Fires of the Desert (Children of the Desert Book 4)

by Leona Wisoker

  The outer door of the suite opened. He relaxed muscles he hadn’t realized were tense.

  “Where did you go?” he said without opening his eyes. “I told you to stay here.”

  “No,” a familiar-strange voice said, “you didn’t.”

  He sat up fast, the mug slipping from his hand and crashing to the floor. The edge hit the carpet first, and water splashed in a wide arc across the floor, turning rich reds and golds into a muddy dark mingling. He glanced at that for only a moment, then returned his attention to the tiny old woman standing in front of him.

  Multiple thin braids of icy-white hair draped across her shoulders, reaching nearly to her stomach. Her skin was wrinkled like a sun-dried fruit, and age spots—Eredion had grown up hearing them referred to as “god-freckles”—scattered in random constellations across her bare arms. She wore a dark grey and blue dress; the thin material draped against her skinny body and made her look even more ethereal. Her feet were minimally protected by thick sandals that showed the wear of years; her toes were straight, the nails neatly trimmed.

  At last he made himself look at her face, confronting the familiar hazy eyes that saw more than he’d ever understand about the world. Her amused expression told him that she’d noticed and understood his quick survey of everything about her except her face. A moment later it faded into a more chillingly sober stare.

  “It’s worse than you think,” she said. “He’s not in the city any longer.”

  “Good to see you again too, ha’inn,” he said, standing; using sarcasm as a shield while he gathered his scattered thoughts. There was only one person—being—Teilo could possibly be concerned about, given the current situation. She must have encountered Tanavin on the street—and of course he would have told her everything, willingly or not. Teilo wasn’t stupid; she would have made sure, during her time training him, that the boy had no shields or defenses against her.

  If Eredion had known she was wandering around, he never would have let the boy go off on his own.

  He hoped Tanavin was still alive.

  He kept his thoughts to himself and said, “I assume you mean Deiq?”

  She stared at him, her sparse white eyebrows drawing down in an faintly impatient grimace, as though she’d followed his thoughts in spite of his effort to shield—not at all unlikely—and found them juvenile.

  “You’re wasting time with your human-style searching,” she said. “Someone’s taken him through the hidden way.”

  Eredion’s legs went out from under him. He folded back into the chair with a thump that almost tipped it over, and stared at her dumbly. “There’s a—?” Here? In Bright Bay? I’ve never heard a whisper of that! Where the hells is it?

  Her expression stopped him from saying it all aloud. She wouldn’t tell him.

  “To where?”

  Her tone bit now: “If I knew that, I would have said.”

  “Yes....” He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to think the changed situation through. “Gods. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.”

  For some reason, that made the ha’rai’nin smile. “Well, on the good hand, you can tell the king he probably needn’t worry about a mad ha’ra’ha rampaging through his city.”

  “Yes,” Eredion said sourly, hauling himself to his feet, “but now I need to tell the entire southlands that they have a problem headed their way. I preferred it when I only had Bright Bay to worry about.”

  “I should think the southlands would be better prepared to handle something like this.”

  “You would think right—five hundred years ago. Now....” Eredion shook his head, remembering a blur of motion and a screaming agony that had come out of nowhere.

  Eredion seethed as he strode through the fortress corridors towards the gardens. He was a desert lord now! Surely that new status should put him beyond petty dictates from that most-gracious slut. Go dismiss her latest lover, indeed! She could have sent a servant for that.

  How Lord Arit Sessin could possibly put up with that woman’s nonsense mystified Eredion. Then again, Arit was getting old. Perhaps he couldn’t satisfy her any longer, and she had to turn to younger men.

  Eredion checked his step. Perhaps sending him on this errand showed that she was beginning to favor him. Maybe she was interested in a young desert lord keeping her up all night. She must know the truth behind the tales, by now: that desert lords made the best lovers, and a new one the best of all.

  Perhaps he’d been too hasty in calling her a slut. Or in thinking that was an entirely bad thing. Lady Sessin was very attractive, after all....

  Resuming his stride with much more enthusiasm, he marched into the moonlit gardens, thinking on how best to hint back to the woman that he was entirely willing—

  As he passed Lady Sessin’s favorite white feather-leaf bush, a chill like a line of cold water dribbling down his spine struck him. A moment later, an entire bucketful of icy premonition doused him head to foot.

  Danger!

  As he opened his mouth to scream for help, knowing with intuitive certainty he wouldn’t make a step if he tried to bolt, something came at him. Moving too fast to see features or even shape, the collision brought him to the ground hard, gravel digging into neck and shoulder and sliding raspily under hip and foot.

  Even in the night-shadows, the eyes that stared into his only vaguely resembled anything human. Oh gods I’m going to — was all Eredion had time to think before the air around him twisted in a way he’d never experienced.

  He never was entirely sure, afterwards, exactly what happened next. It blurred into a screaming agony and a howling lust and a bottomless terror, all woven together; then the first two stopped as though cut off dead.

  Fear shivering through his whole body, he lay still, eyes shut, and waited to die.

  “Stop that,” someone said nearby, sounding infinitely weary. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  It took all of Eredion’s shredded courage to crack one eye open and swivel a fast glance around for the source of that voice. Not seeing anything with that limited vision, he dared to open the other eye and turn his head in search of his assailant.

  A dark-haired man sat not far away, one knee drawn up, arm resting on that knee and a just-visible expression of exhausted disgust on his face. He regarded Eredion without speaking; the desert lord, too baffled and shaken to form coherent words, sat up and returned the stare.

  At last, the silence dragging on his nerves, Eredion turned his attention to his surroundings. Moonlight streamed in great swaths through wide windows. A vagrant night breeze brought in the scent of jasmine, rosemary, and basil; the air held moisture and a tinge of salt. The floor looked to be wood, heavily scattered with fine thick rugs and pillows. A tremendously wide and heavily padded bed-mat took up most of the room. A light blanket, pushed into crumpled lines, draped across one corner of the mat. Eredion himself, like the stranger, was naked; their clothes lay in a sloppy heap to one side.

  Eredion looked away, feeling a hard flush coloring his face, and tried not to think about the faint, familiar physical ache and exhaustion racking through him. He’d rarely found other men interesting, except in the immediate aftermath of the blood trials; but there was no arguing his response in this instance.

  From what he could remember, there hadn’t been any question as to who was in charge, though...and it hadn’t been Eredion, which was more than slightly embarrassing in retrospect.

  He swallowed and looked around the room again to make himself stop thinking about that. He was sitting just off-center on the mat, the stranger off to one corner. On the other side of the room was a doorway, covered only by a light curtain shimmying in the breeze. Eredion considered trying to bolt. He discarded the notion at the memory of how fast the stranger had moved.

  As if hearing the thought, the stranger chuckled. “You’re too exhausted to make two steps right now,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back home as soon as you’ve rested.”


  Eredion looked back at the stranger, wishing for better light so that he could see the man more clearly.

  “There’s a lantern on the table over there, and strikers,” the man said, pointing. He sounded amused. “If you can make it that far, go ahead and light it.”

  So he could hear thoughts; either that or he was a smart guesser. Eredion felt far too flayed emotionally just at the moment to risk opening himself up to find out for sure.

  Eredion pushed to his feet, took a step, and folded rapidly to the floor again, his knees watery. “Uhmph.”

  The stranger laughed and stood. “Stay there, then. I’ll do it.” He crossed to the low table. Moments later the lantern flared to life. He lifted it onto a heavy wall-hook and turned.

  The new light caught the line of an unmistakable desert-hawk visage. Eredion felt his stomach drop through the floor. “Deiq of Stass?”

  Deiq’s shrug held more than a tinge of embarrassment.

  “You’re a merchant!” As soon as he said it, Eredion felt infinitely foolish. Obviously the man was far more than just a merchant.

  “You have no idea,” Deiq said, “how much I’d like that to be true.”

  “What are you? And what just happened?”

  Deiq stared as though that was the most idiotic thing he’d ever been asked, and blurted, “You mean you don’t know?”

  Teilo sucked in a sharp breath, obviously catching that memory. “You weren’t told?” she demanded, much as Deiq had done.

  “I thought he was just a merchant,” Eredion said, avoiding her milky glare. “As I recall, he had a hearty fight with Lord Arit about it.” And almost as soon as Deiq had left, Arit had summoned Eredion and berated him for allowing this to happen; as though Eredion had been given a choice...but Arit hadn’t wanted to hear that. And not long afterwards, Eredion had been sent to Bright Bay as Sessin Family Representative...at a time all the other Families were rapidly withdrawing all their business and political interests from the Northern Kingdom.

  He’d never been innocent enough, at least, to see that as coincidental timing.

  The old ha’rai’nin nodded slowly, apparently following his thoughts. “Your Family is very lucky,” she said softly. “And Deiq is more insane than I ever suspected. He should have told the Jungles immediately.”

  Eredion’s stomach lurched as he made a connection he should have seen years ago. “He was protecting us?”

  “If the Jungles had known that Lord Arit Sessin tried to keep even one desert lord in ignorance of his rightful duties,” Teilo said evenly, “Sessin lands would now be as empty as Scratha’s.”

  “Oh, gods,” Eredion whispered, sitting back down. He stared at her. “And now he’s been taken....”

  “I suspect Deiq has secrets in his head that would level the entire world if the wrong people got hold of them,” Teilo said. “I’m beginning to think someone should have killed him a long time ago.”

  Eredion, to his own astonishment, found himself opening his mouth to protest: But you can’t do that! He doesn’t deserve to die for trying to help! He shook his head instead, well aware that he’d been ready to kill Deiq himself—and rebuke Alyea for voicing similar sentiments—just hours ago.

  Apparently my pragmatism has limits after all. If Deiq has directly kept Sessin Family from being smashed like a bug, I owe him more than I thought. I wonder if that’s why he never fully explained this to me?

  “Quite possibly,” Teilo said, squinting as though following that thought had been difficult for her. “I honestly don’t understand his reasoning. He’s quite literally insane from a ha’reye point of view, and seriously bizarre from a human perspective.”

  Eredion sighed deeply and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands, elbows on knees, for a few moments. At last he straightened and stood, all exhaustion pushed aside and replaced by a fizzing tension that might carry him through what needed to be done now.

  “I have to go see the king again, to update him on Deiq’s whereabouts,” he said. “He’s going to hate seeing me this many times in one day, even though this is good news—for him. Will you come along?”

  He knew what she’d say even as he asked; she shook her head firmly.

  “No. It’s better this king never sees my face.”

  “But here you are at the palace,” he noted.

  “Am I?” she asked, and suddenly wasn’t—quite—there; a moment later he couldn’t see her at all. He startled to his feet just as she emerged from the curtains, literally flowing out of the fabric as though she’d taken refuge in the folds themselves. “Your Hidden can’t see me either,” she noted, smiling at his astonished expression. “They’re asleep. And they’ll wake, when I leave, with no notion of my presence.”

  “Good gods,” Eredion said, badly shaken. “I don’t think even Deiq could do that!”

  Teilo lifted a thin, pale eyebrow and said nothing, but her mocking expression answered the question loudly.

  “Why would he keep abilities like that hidden—No, you said you don’t understand his reasoning. Never mind.” Eredion drew a deep breath, held it, let it out in a loud huoff. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Alyea while I’m gone? I just gave her estiqi—”

  Teilo turned quickly, her eyes widening. “She’s here?”

  “Couldn’t you sense her?”

  Teilo stood still, her expression taut, then shook her head. “No. Go see the king.”

  “You couldn’t—”

  “Go see the king,” she snapped.

  He stumbled for the door and through before he drew another breath.

  Standing in the hallway outside his suite, panting a little, he turned and stared at the door. “Godsdamnit,” he muttered, “that wasn’t very nice.”

  He rested a hand on the knob and twisted. It was like trying to turn the roots of a mountain. Clearly, Teilo had no intentions of letting him come back in right away. Arguing would be futile and a waste of valuable time.

  There were more important issues at the moment than what Teilo was going to do with Alyea; but he really hoped the girl would still be alive when he returned.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hazed, dream-caught, Deiq rolled through time and memory with no anchor in the now; back into a recently recalled, newly familiar memory:

  Lord Arit Sessin stood at the far end of a severely plain room. Deiq stopped just inside the door, let it close behind him, and took a long, amused look around.

  “Any Aerthraim would love this room,” he commented. He took a few casual steps forward, his attention on the furnishings, and ran a finger along the edge of a dark-stained oak table. “This style looks familiar. Did Jorin of Stass make this?”

  “You’re not here to talk about wood-workers,” Lord Arit said thinly. “Quit wasting my time.”

  Deiq hummed lightly and moved on to examine a thickly padded chair with a yellow leather covering. “Because humans have so little time to waste? But you have so much more than most humans.” He sat down in the chair and looked up at Lord Sessin. “All desert lords do. It’s part of the Agreement. You do remember the Agreement?”

  “Of course I do,” Lord Sessin snapped. “What’s this about?”

  “Eredion didn’t know what I am,” Deiq said bluntly.

  “You took—” Lord Sessin whirled away from Deiq, his hands clenching spasmodically. “Damnit,” he said at last, turning around again. “You’ve ruined him.”

  “What?” Deiq came up out of the chair and had Lord Sessin crowded up against the far wall before the man had a chance to even draw a shocked breath. “Ruined?”

  Lord Sessin, eyes wide, seemed locked into immobility. He scarcely breathed as he stared into Deiq’s eyes from a hand-span away. “I...I...I....”

  Disgusted by the fear steaming off the man, Deiq backed up a step, loosening his hold. “Ruined,” he repeated. “Explain.”

  “I’d forgotten...how fast you can move,” Lord Sessin said after a few increasingly deep breaths. “May I...have a moment?”


  Deiq raised an eyebrow and stepped back another pace, releasing his grip completely. “At least you didn’t piss yourself this time.”

  Lord Sessin closed his eyes briefly. “I had hoped to forget that part of our last encounter,” he murmured.

  “Ruined, Arit,” Deiq prompted without remorse. “Get to it already.”

  “You’re so impatient for a creature who’s lived hundreds of years.”

  “Yes, I am. Stop stalling. Why did you leave Eredion ignorant?”

  Lord Arit Sessin drew another deep breath and straightened a little, as though seeking after his shredded dignity. “Desert lords change after the trials,” he said. “But it’s well known that right after the last trial we’re strongest. As time goes on we weaken. Perceptions dim, strength fails somewhat. I wondered,” his tone turned careful, “if the energy taken...when your kind feeds...takes away, bit by bit, what the trials gave us.”

  Deiq stood very still, staring at the Sessin lord.

  “I decided to try limiting Eredion’s instruction, and to keep him away from...your kind after the trials, to see...what would happen.” Lord Sessin swallowed hard. “It wasn’t a breach of the Agreement! It was only one attempt. I sent Jonnui and Eredion through the training together, and Jonnui...my own son, my heir...is fully instructed.” A faint twitch passed across the Sessin lord’s thin face. “Eredion’s lack of knowledge was simply an experiment. And now that’s ruined.”

  “You’re very, very lucky that it is,” Deiq said bleakly. “The Jungles would consider even the experiment to be a breach of the Agreement. You could have had your entire fortress down in ruins around you, Lord Sessin.”

  “But Sessin protector agreed to leave Eredion alone completely! If it didn’t protest—”

  Deiq stopped himself from saying Sessin protector is a lazy, immature, and ignorant fool just in time; reworded that into: “Sessin protector was mistaken. The Jungles will not see this as acceptable, and they set the rules, not your protector.”