by DL O'Neal
Cheyna stirred. "Only a human male with strong psi talent can handle the Sheathe, while the Krees requires a female telepath trained in the Raipierian way. To access their powers, the man and woman must be in complete accord, their minds compatible. A safeguard the Raipier built into the Crystal Sheathe and Krees." She hopped down from the table and crossed to the crystal console Krthe had been examining. She held her hand out to the High Lord.
Puzzled, he stared.
"The Sheathe."
Krthe hesitated, and then withdrew the Sheathe from his black traveling cape, placing it in Cheyna's outstretched palm.
Without the slightest hesitation, she fit the Sheathe in a slot on the console. The Krees slid snugly into the Sheathe. One quarter turn to the right and a faint humming sound emanated from the console. Back absolutely straight, her stride steady, Cheyna started toward Drakthe.
"Hold it, NaturPath," Krthe commanded.
She turned, an inquiring expression on her face.
"Where do you think you are going?"
She pointed to the crystal helmet beneath Drakthe's table. "To fit an amplifier on my lord," she said expressionlessly and waited until the High Lord indicated she should continue.
Her palms were sweating. Cheyna wiped them surreptitiously on the legs of her trousers. She drew even with Lcrier's body and stopped.
"Would you help me move Lord Lcrier?"
"Why?"
"You will need the seat," she explained.
Krthe made a brushing motion. "Just roll him off the stool."
A wave of nausea cramped Cheyna's stomach at the High Lord's cold, utterly dispassionate tone. Krthe had worked closely with Lcrier for years, yet he treated the man with less respect than a household article past its usefulness.
"Hurry up," Krthe pointed the airbow at Drakthe.
Hiding her distaste, Cheyna did as instructed. She managed to slip her hand, unnoticed, into Lord Lcrier's mantle as he tumbled out of the crystal chair. Cheyna resumed her course toward Drakthe, hoping her trembling knees didn't show.
Careful to stand with her back to the High Lord, Cheyna met Drakthe's gaze as her hand found his. She slid his krees into his hand.
The krees settled in Drakthe's palm like it had missed his grip. The instant his hand curled around the haft, a soft glow emanated from the blade.
The High Lord started in their direction.
Drakthe's gold eyes gleamed with a savagely controlled fire from between slitted lids as he watched his former employer draw nearer. The fine hairs on the back of Cheyna's neck lifted. Drakthe's eyes were eerily similar to his krees.
She had the helmet on Drakthe's head and was adjusting the fit by the time Krthe stopped at her side. He regarded them with suspicion. Finally satisfied that they weren't plotting against him, Krthe gestured with the airbow for Cheyna to precede him. Back at the other crystal table, Krthe waved for her to get on it.
"Not yet, High Lord. I have information you need to know before we continue." Cheyna paused to gather her thoughts, wanting to strike a balance between telling High Lord Krthe enough to convince him to follow the plan she had formulated and telling him too much.
"Once I am wearing the helmet, turn the Sheathe and Krees another quarter turn to the right. That," she pointed to an abbreviated version of the helmet on the console, "will enhance and transmit our psi energy to you."
"How is it you are familiar with the workings of the augmenter?" Krthe asked, distrustful of her willingness to help.
"We have been here several days." Cheyna let Krthe infer she had gained knowledge from a thorough study of the mechanism, rather than the quick glimpse into the reassembled Krees she'd stolen.
"You realize," he asked casually, "if you attempt to harm me, the Merchant Master will pay the price?"
Cheyna met the cruel gaze steadily. "I will not harm my bondmate."
"You sound as if you mean that, NaturPath." A deep throb of curiosity laced the observation.
"I do. My duty is to keep my bondmate safe."
Krthe turned slightly so he could see the Merchant Master. His thin mouth twisted in amusement. "Fire Krees, are you now in need of a woman's protection?"
"So she seems to think." The volcanic ice cuffs clinked as Drakthe moved his hands.
"How quaint. A woman with both passion and honor. Perhaps I erred in not keeping her for myself," Krthe mused, watching Drakthe much too closely for Cheyna's peace of mind. She knew he was trying to get a rise out of Drakthe.
Drakthe's mouth curved. "Trust me, Trade Baron, you would not have found Cheyna a comfortable mate."
Krthe slid a quick, speculative glance toward Cheyna. Something in her serene expression seemed to make him ill-at-ease. He gestured abruptly for Cheyna to get on the table. Krthe fastened her in the same manner in which he'd restrained Drakthe. At once, the tension left his long, elegant body.
Krthe crossed to the console. He studied the joined Sheathe and Krees a long moment. He stretched out a hand with a decisive motion and turned the pair. The faint humming increased. Satisfied, he stepped over the body of his accomplice and settled on the stool, the third point of a triangle.
High Lord Krthe, last of the ignoble line of Hagar, placed the abbreviated amplifier on his head. He took a deep breath.
His plans, his dreams, were about to come true.
Tremendous power and resonance shafted into Cheyna's mind. For a few minutes all she could concentrate on was controlling the explosion of raw psi energy before it raced through and destroyed every protective barrier she had built.
One writhing streamer at a time, Cheyna tamed and contained the energy until, with infinite patience, she could sort and direct it as she wished. Once she learned to use the Krees instead of her own mind, the process became easier, smoothed into a familiar routine.
Cheyna wondered how Drakthe was managing.
"My lord?"
A welter of fury, fear and sheer determination bombarded her mind.
"How, in the name of all the Saints, did I allow you to talk me into this?" Drakthe gritted directly into her mind. "Once we are both free, if you ever attempt to link with me you will regret it." One of the blasted ribbons escaped Drakthe's control. A pithy curse escaped as he rushed to recapture it. "I mean it, Cheyna. Never again." The pendant grew warm as it rested in the hollow of Drakthe's throat.
Cheyna ignored the miniature tirade.
"Do not fight the energy yourself, my lord. Utilize the strength of the Sheathe. Allow the Sheathe to both focus and contain the energy."
Cheyna remained alert for the first sign of Krthe's psi signature. She did not trust the High Lord to keep his word. His ego would demand that he try to usurp the power of the link. Cheyna felt her strength waver and start to wane as the strain of maintaining parallel links drained her energy.
"Easy, House-daughter. I'm here." Drakthe joined his resources with hers. "How much of our link is Krthe getting?" he asked.
"At the moment very little. We are going to have to feed him more or he will become suspicious."
"Since you can recognize his touch, you continue to watch for him."
"Then you, too, do not trust him to keep his word and let us go when we transfer psi talent to him?"
"He'll suck us dry and spit out the husks first chance he gets."
Cheyna shivered at the image Drakthe's words conjured up. All she could think about was Tanni's father and the missing Shhiv NaturPath.
Drakthe voice came to her, crisp and commanding. "You seem to understand the way this thing works. What is our next move?"
"We have to neutralize the Sheathe and Krees without alerting High Lord Krthe."
"Nothing is ever easy with you, bondwife, is it?"
Certainty and trust flowed through the link, bathing Cheyna in a rush of gentle warmth.
"Okay, you lead and I'll follow, House-daughter."
"That, my lord, will truly be a first."
She let her laughter spill into the link. Despite their des
perate circumstances, an answering amusement twined with hers.
Cheyna grew serious.
"We need to merge the forces of the Sheathe and Krees until one is indistinguishable from the other. Each resonance matrix has to become entangled with its opposite. Only when they are irretrievably joined will they lose the power to focus and exchange psi energy."
Drakthe felt the first tentative probe of Cheyna's energy teasing and dancing around his. The pendant around his neck grew red hot, but oddly enough, didn't burn him. Instead, he felt his psi energy grow and strengthen.
Almost without his will, tendrils of his own energy sought out mates from the ribbons that comprised Cheyna's. Dancing, swirling, incandescent ribbons of color and light, of sounds and smells, merged and became one. Drakthe knew what Cheyna was thinking, what she was feeling.
Just like when he made love with her.
For one moment, he was Cheyna, and she him.
Together, they surged forward.
Drakthe barely noticed the inky darkness of the ribbon they submerged beneath their combined power. It wasn't until Krthe's soundless scream echoed in his mind that he realized the Trade Baron had attempted to seize control of both his and Cheyna's minds.
The High Lord's arrogance and greed had killed him.
Anguish rushed over Drakthe. Cheyna's. He wanted to stop and comfort her. He couldn't. The combined force of their energy was too powerful. The power grew, swelled, until Drakthe had no choice but to go along with it.
Fear clogged his throat. If he lost control now, he would die and take Cheyna with him. He searched for her, blindly groping the miasmatic swirl of sight, sound and color for a glimpse of her. A gentle warmth wrapped around his fear, enriched his confidence with hers.
Cheyna.
Drakthe gave himself into the hands of his bondwife, trusting her instinct and understanding of the Sheathe and Krees.
Coils of energy radiated out, expanding and growing until the entire cavern pulsed with its force. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, the pulse muted until the cavern was again simply black crystal.
Drakthe's eyes opened.
"Cheyna!"
Her name burst from his lips. Pure panic set in when he didn't receive a response. The krees he had slipped up his sleeve and hidden from Krthe dropped into his hand.
The blade glowed white hot.
Drakthe sliced through the volcanic ice manacles around his wrists as if they were water, then went to work on the cuffs about his ankles.
The moment his legs were free, Drakthe tore the helmet off and charged across the room to his bondwife. His hand trembled as he felt for her pulse.
"Cheyna?"
Her lashes fluttered.
Drakthe's eyes closed. Sheer relief made his knees weak. He sank down beside her. "Jkael, don't ever do that to me again, bondwife. I thought I had lost you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick and clotted.
"No, never, my lord. I am afraid you are stuck with me." She gave him a reassuring smile, but he could plainly see the effort it required.
Drakthe removed the helmet and cut through her shackles. He helped her to sit up.
Fine tremors ran down her slender body. Cheyna hugged herself. "I kept my word, my lord, I did not hesitate."
"Hesitate about what?" he asked softly, rubbing the palms of his hands up and down her arms. The tremors didn't abate. He leaned back so he could see her face better.
"To harm another."
Pain sliced through him at the abject horror that filled her eyes. Drakthe enfolded her close, wanting to take her right inside his body and absorb her pain.
"Cheyna, you did what was necessary," he tried to soothe her. Jkael, how he wished he had been the one to kill Krthe.
"I know." She paused before her voice came in a hesitant whisper. "That is not what bothers me the most."
He waited.
"What bothers me the most is that I would do it again," she admitted starkly.
"You have the heart of a warrior. You did what had to be done." Drakthe's throat tightened. "You put me before your beliefs." Jkael, what would he do if she regretted the choice? He didn't know how he would survive because she was the heart of the warrior.
She was his heart.
Cheyna's hand sought and found his cheek. Her fingers wiped away the streak of drying blood from the cut over his eye and lingered to caress the line of his brow. "I love you." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss just under the line of his jaw.
Drakthe's throat work strongly as he swallowed. "No one has ever told me they loved me," he managed around the strangling pressure threatening to cut off his voice.
"Not even your mother?"
He lifted a shoulder. "If she did, I don't remember." His arms tightened around her and Drakthe lowered his head and inhaled the spicy, exotic scent of her hair.
Tears brought a brilliant sheen to her eyes. "I love you. I am afraid you will grow weary of hearing it, my lord, I plan on saying it so much."
Drakthe rested his face against the top of her head. He squeezed his eyes shut. His throat was so tight it was agony to merely draw a breath. He searched for words. "Not a chance. I'll drag it out of you every chance I get." He cleared his throat. "Cheyna?"
Cheyna rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, a warm glow slowly burning away the lingering horror of taking another's life. "Yes, my lord?"
"I love you."
A sunburst of joy filled her to overflowing. She snuggled closer to his hard strength, content to stay in his arms, not talking, just taking comfort from knowing he was alive.
Locked in the link with Drakthe, she had realized she more than trusted him, she loved him. But she had learned something else, too. All this time, she'd been so sure she was right to sever her bonds with Drakthe because of her vision of leaving Rpiere behind. She'd interpreted it as a sure sign that she now belonged to Scimtar and must cut ties with all that was familiar.
She had been only partly right.
Scimtar was her home because it was Drakthe's home.
She belonged to Drakthe.
And he belonged to her.
Drakthe brought her out of her reverie. "You told Krthe the augmenter required two minds working in cooperation to fully harness and absorb psi power. When we linked with the Sheathe and Krees, I saw images of psi energy being wrenched from unwilling telepaths. Mind explaining that to me?"
"I lied," she replied succinctly.
Drakthe looked stunned for a moment. Then a great shout of laughter worked its way up from his chest and filled the cavern, echoing and magnifying until it consumed the darkness of the crystal.
"You lied," he gasped, when he finally caught his breath. "I don't believe it. You lied," he repeated, as if unable to comprehend the concept of her not telling the truth. "This from the woman who squirmed and practically dug a hole to hide in when she lied to me on the Plains? You are the worse liar on the planet, Cheyna. I can't believe you confessed with such insouciance."
"You," she said with mock reproach, "have an unfortunate effect on my principles."
"Does that mean you no longer object to my mining the crystal city?" he asked, his golden gaze warming.
Cheyna shot him a glance full of reprimand. "Do not push your luck, Merchant Master." She leaned back and scanned the cavern, chewing on her bottom lip. "I might, however, be willing to negotiate."
"Negotiate?" Drakthe asked, wariness leaping to life. He didn't like that speculative gleam in her eyes. "What sort of negotiation are we talking about here?" Vivid recollections of the last negotiation he had undertaken with his bondwife danced in front of his eyes. She'd taken half his profit.
"Since the crystal no longer resonates to psi energy, I might be willing to see this cavern, and only this cavern, mined." Cheyna rubbed her arms as if she were cold.
The chill didn't come from the cave, Drakthe knew. In this cavern, she'd been forced to take a man's life. The knowledge could not be comfortable. He had a sneaking suspicion his bondwife would not mi
nd seeing the cavern and all it stood for erased.
"Just what do I have to give up to get this cooperation?"
"Not much." She smiled.
Drakthe groaned. He wasn't going to like this. Not one little bit. He raised a brow and waited.
"I want you to contract out a historical dig. The historical value must not be lost."
"That's it? You want the historical value preserved?"
Cheyna ducked her head.
Drakthe's wariness grew.
"Not quite."
"I knew it was too easy," he grumbled. "Spit it out, House-daughter. What else? Do you want me to give away half the profit to the NaturPaths of Agora?" Drakthe could have bitten his tongue off. Putting such ideas in Cheyna's head wasn't the smartest move he could make. She was just liable to take him up on them.
"I want you to give the routes to Alia, Jney and Bthany."
"To tradewives!" he shouted, very nearly strangling on the words. "Forget it, bondwife. No way am I letting you get tangled up with them again." His hand sliced the air in a gesture of finality.
"Forget it."
"So, tell me. How did you persuade the Merchant Master to give us the route?" Alia leaned one shoulder in the doorway of Cheyna's workroom.
Cheyna stifled the laughter threatening to bubble free. "Why do you believe Drakthe needed persuading?"
Alia made a face. "Yeah, right. I bet we were the first ones to come to the Merchant Master's mind when he decided to contract out the route." Alia straightened and came further into the room. "Come clean, Cheyna. How did you convince him?"
Cheyna continued grinding herbs in the smooth stone bowl. She gestured with her chin for Alia to take a seat. "You sound as if you do not believe Drakthe can be reasonable. I assure you he can be imminently reasonable."
"If you say so." Alia agreed, sounding doubtful. "But I've got to tell you, Cheyna, you're the first person I've heard to say that. He has," she paused, obviously searching for a diplomatic way to enlighten Cheyna about the Fire Krees' reputation for ruthlessness, "been known to drive a hard bargain."
"So have I," Cheyna admitted modestly.
Alia leveled a shrewd glance from beneath lowered lashes at her. "You're not going to tell me."