“Exiled, remember?” Arrow tried to make her voice light. “And, no, I did not live among the Erith.” Always off to one side. First with Nassaran in the hermit’s hut. Then in the converted store house. Out of sight and attention, except when she was needed. And now, by edict, outside Erith lands.
Except Nassaran had been Serran in disguise, the Erith’s most famous mage living a simple life for at least a few years until she could fend for herself. He had disappeared from time to time. Overnight very occasionally. Still, he had spent time with her. She wondered if he thought she should feel grateful for that. Then she wondered if she should be grateful, and what the alternative might have been.
“Hard to believe the Taellan exiled a shadow-walker,” Willan put in, shaking his head.
Arrow had her hands twisted together on her lap and jumped slightly when Kester’s hand, warm and rough from work, landed on hers. He squeezed her hand for a moment then left her go. She was not sure what she was supposed to understand from that gesture, and turned her attention back to her plate, finding it empty.
A junior warrior came into the room them, and whispered in Miach’s ear before departing, with many backward glances to the six. They would definitely need a bigger statue, Arrow thought.
“Things have changed a great deal,” Iserat said slowly.
“And not for the better,” Ronath agreed.
“At least we no longer have to put up with Noverian,” Onalla commented, lifting her glass to Arrow in a toast. “Pompous-”
“The meeting is over,” Miach’s voice cut through whatever Onalla had been about to say. “Arrow, the Prime has asked for you.”
“Of course.” Arrow got up from her chair, bade a general farewell to the room and headed out, only realising once she was past Miach that she had no idea where to find Zachary.
~
Not knowing where to start, she headed for the ballroom for want of somewhere better. To her surprise, Zachary was there, standing to one side of the room, surveying the destruction. There was a team of humans hard at work clearing away some of the debris. It looked like they had started at one of the sets of doors. Arrow was not sure how long they had been working, but they had cleared a space approximately the size of the dining table she had just left. There were sacks of rubble set in the open doorway ready for removal. Bits of plaster. Glass. Shattered wood. Torn fabric from tablecloths, clothes and the heavy drapes that had framed the windows.
“George is still crying,” Zachary told her by way of greeting. She had to pause to remember that George was the hotel’s manager. “He loves this building. It took them ten years to get the ballroom to the state it was in.”
“Will the human authorities help with the repairs?” Arrow asked, curious.
“Yes.” The quiet satisfaction in her voice made her wonder what else the human authorities had agreed to, faced with the Prime. He tilted his head up to the ceiling for a moment, taking in the chandelier which was one of the few objects in the room not damaged. “Can you disguise our conversation if we walk for a while?”
“Yes.” She drew a piece of chalk from her bag and sketched the rune for confusion on her sleeve, following him as he left the building through the empty space where a window should have been. The windows had been the floor-to-ceiling type much favoured among human architects, shards of glass still littering the paved area outside. “If you remain within ten paces of me, no one will understand us,” she told him, matching his pace as he started walking across the lawn outside the Abbey. She did not think he had a particular destination in mind.
“Good.” He did not speak for a few moments more, taking them all the way across the lawn and under a group of trees showing the first leaves of the year. “We have agreement.” The satisfaction was still there along with a glint in his eye that made Arrow wary. The shifkin Prime was as capable a politician as he was predator. And he had formed a plan for the summit long before he had told her about it.
“The treaty is renewed?”
“Among other things.” He walked for a few paces more, then glanced across and whatever he saw on her face made him laugh softly. “Yes, I will tell you. Matt and Tony are making lists as we speak.”
“There are changes, then?”
“A few.”
More than a few, Arrow suspected, and was proved right a moment later as he outlined the agreements reached. Official liaisons from each of the three races. Formal meetings at least every six months, more often if needed. Greater co-operation and sharing of information. The Erith to assist the Collegia with magical training. The humans to make better use of their existing lands. Mutual co-operation in maintaining the road between Hallveran and Lix. A much more extensive co-operation than had been in place before.
And to start it all, a joint investigation into how the Magister had managed to gather so many followers inside the Collegia and nearly brought the world to ruin.
Arrow’s eyes were wide before he was half-way through the list. It was a huge advance from the original treaty which had primarily required peace between the races, and authority for shifkin and Erith agents to operate in the human world on matters of concern to their people.
She could see why Zachary was so satisfied. She suspected that the Premiere would be relieved. An Wong was no fool, and knew her people were vulnerable after the Magister’s conspiracy had been revealed. She also suspected that Eimille would be furious, but feel that the Erith had no choice, with the capacity of humans to reach the surjusi realm. The Erith frequently underestimated the other races. Not after this.
And she would have a part in it. Zachary was clear that his people did not understand the high magic humans and Erith used, and needed to have someone working for them who could keep an eye on the Collegia. After a short break, he added, drawing a smile to her face. Questioning of the current prisoners would take some time. At least a month. She was free to do as she pleased until that was done.
It was not as long as she had wanted. Yet it was more than she had hoped for. A month. Enough time to travel to a few places she had not been to before. To see some of the beauty the human world had to offer.
It turned out that Zachary had not been walking aimlessly. They ended their walk at the small farm within the Abbey grounds, an unfamiliar vehicle waiting for them. A rugged, plain navy vehicle, a bit like the trucks that Arrow had seen on Farraway Mountain. A vehicle that would blend in anywhere in the human world.
“This is for you. A gift. For your travels. Think of it as a bonus,” Zachary told her. “The one at the workspace is damaged, but not really suitable for what you want.” Arrow thought back to the sleek black vehicle, very evidently armoured, that she had used. Such vehicles were relatively common around Lix as the members of the government used them, and law enforcement. But outside Lix, in the wider human world, very few people had armoured vehicles.
She protested half-heartedly, delighted with the gift. The vehicle was perfect for her needs.
“And I thought we should take it for one final task,” he added, nodding towards the back of the vehicle. It was not properly warded yet, of course. There was something magical in the back, though. Buried among layers of cloth and covered with heavy drapes.
“The centre piece from Sanctuary,” she identified it without looking, smiling. “Brother Edward will be pleased to have it back.”
“Matt and Tamara will return the others. But I thought you’d like to come with me for this one. And try out your new vehicle.”
“Yes.” Arrow took the vehicle’s keys from his hand. Everything would be alright.
CHAPTER 24
Brother Edward had been moved to tears to have the stone returned. The stone had settled into its place in Sanctuary as though it had never left, the peace of the building amplified.
It was only driving back to the Abbey that Zachary gave her the only bad news of the day. There was to be a drinks reception that evening at the Abbey, to celebrate the new treaty, and he expected her to attend.
Formal wear was not required.
With the resonance of Sanctuary inside her, Arrow found the drinks reception not quite as awful as she expected.
It was in fact something of a miracle. Representatives of the three primary races gathered, drank a variety of drinks, ate the hotel’s fine food, exchanged pleasant conversation, and did not argue. Not even once. There were no raised voices. No bitter undertones. On the surface it was an extremely civilised gathering.
As if the peaceful gathering were not enough, she did not find herself standing alone by the wall. Despite the fact that every Erith in the room wanted to speak with them, the six seemed to have adopted her and kept urging her to try various drinks or bits of food that were being passed around. The group grew and shrunk as various of the six split off to speak with others, and as Gilean, Orlis, Miach and others came and went, Kallish and Kester included as a matter of course, the six remembering Kallish from before they went into the portal.
Serran, oddly absent most of the day, spent much of the time a mostly silent presence amid the Taellan who were there. The Taellan seemed almost as delighted to have Serran back as they were to see the six. The few times Arrow’s gaze crossed the Erith’s most famous mage she found him glaring back at her, amber snapping in his eyes.
It was the only mar on the event, a knot of hurt forming in her stomach. Foolish, she knew. She knew the Erith were capable of warmth, of love, of laughter. She had the evidence of that around her in the six. But she also knew that she was and forever would be an outsider to that. Her early memories of Serran, when she had known him as Nassaran, were not of a genial, gentle mentor but of a caretaker who saw that her needs were met in a distant fashion, only coming alive and showing any warmth when he was teaching her to see magic.
A touch at her elbow distracted her. Kester was beside her. The hurt inside loosened and vanished, a different sensation taking its place. The youngest Taellan had decided she was worth something. There were possibilities to be explored. The adventurer in her, the part that thought safety was boring, was curious to know where this might lead. Perhaps it was that, perhaps it was the wine Onalla had insisted she try, rich and heady. Whatever the cause, Arrow found herself focusing on Kester’s face, specifically his mouth, as he led them away from the bustle of other people.
“I think we should go for a walk,” he suggested. “Where there are no other people.”
Arrow tried to contain her disappointment. If he wanted to walk, that was fine. Really. There were other things she would prefer. But if it was just Kester and her, that was alright. Time enough for other things, now that the demon lord was back where he should be.
He led them through the hotel’s corridors, towards one of the side entrances, but not that far, instead turning into the hotel’s library, clear of any other people and lit only by the moon and star light from outside.
“This seems far enough,” he suggested, closing the door behind him and turning the key. The snick of the lock was loud in the quiet room. He moved away from the door, slowly and steadily. She glanced over his shoulder and saw the key still in the lock, easily within reach if she wanted to leave. She did not. “I did not really want to go for a walk,” he told her, coming closer.
She stood her ground, mouth curving into a smile, disappointment fading.
“Did you have something else in mind?” she asked, wondering what it could be. A few possibilities crossed her mind.
“Many, many things.” He put a hand under her chin and brought his mouth to hers.
Kisses. She loved his kisses. He kissed her until she could not breathe and she kissed him back, knees unsteady so she stumbled up against one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, shelves pressing the sword against her spine. She did not care. Many, many things had so many possibilities and her mind spun on what those might be.
Bolder than she had been before, she slid her hands under his formal coat and around his back, feeling the heat of his skin through the fine fabric of his shirt, lean muscles moving under her fingers, scent filling her lungs. He made a sound low in his throat and speared his fingers through her hair, tilting her head a little to a better angle. She heard a sound in her own throat she had never made before.
She was lost for long moments, thoughts scattered and fractured, senses full of the texture of his shirt, warmth of his skin, scent drawn in with every breath, the foreign taste of him, mouth tingling as he lifted his head so they could both breathe for a moment.
“I have missed you,” he told her, voice low and full of something that made her toes curl.
“We-”
She had no idea what she was going to say. He kissed her again and she stopped thinking for another long while.
Her heart was loud in her ears, a steady pounding, growing louder and more irritating.
She broke away, turning her head. That was not her heart, but someone pounding on the locked door. Someone who wanted inside.
“Let me in.” The voice was not immediately familiar.
Kester cursed under his breath and stroked his fingers out of her hair. It was loose around her head, the band for her ponytail having vanished somewhere.
“Serran,” he told her.
Arrow’s mind came back to focus with an almost audible snap. Serran. Grandfather. She did not wish to speak with him. Not right now. But he was still knocking at the door. Hammering it with a fist more like. Much more and the wood might break.
“We should let him in,” she said, sighing.
“I suppose.” He stroked her cheek, her skin sensitive to his touch. “I will not leave you unless you want me to.”
“Thank you.”
Arrow stepped away from the bookshelf into the centre of the room as Kester went to the door. Serran came into the room like a storm front, eyes snapping with amber, movements too quick, shoulders square. Kester shut the door behind the mage but did not lock it.
“I will speak with my granddaughter alone,” he told Kester. “Get out.”
“No.” Kester and Arrow said at the same time. That word was coming more easily every time she said it, and it was still a novelty to be able to say no to the Erith.
Serran glared at them each in turn. He was clearly furious about something. Kester moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Arrow. And he would not leave unless she wanted him to, Arrow remembered, warmth curling through her.
“This is unacceptable. Young ladies of the Erith do not sneak off into darkened rooms,” Serran hissed.
Arrow could not help it. She laughed. Serran’s colour rose, visible even in the poor light, and he stared at her, apparently astonished by her reaction. Which only made her laugh more.
“I am your grandfather. Head of the House. You will listen to me.”
Arrow choked on another laugh, sobering as she realised he was quite serious.
“You have no claim on me. Nor do any of the Erith,” she told him, voice shading to frost.
“Ridiculous.”
“Well, consider that barely a day ago you were suggesting that the warriors cut off my leg,” she pointed out, “and you would have been happy to see me thrown back into the portal if it meant Saul was trapped in his realm.”
“Not the same thing at all. How was I to know-”
“Serran,” Kester spoke, silencing the mage through shock more than anything else, Arrow thought. “What do you want?”
“You have the effrontery to demand answers from me, when you sneak off like the commonest cadet. Outrageous.”
“And you fathered at least two sons whose names you claim not to remember,” Arrow snapped, her own temper flaring for a moment. “If we are going to debate what is outrageous, shall we start there?”
“I will not debate this with you. I am returning to the heartland tomorrow. You will come with me. It is time you were properly educated. Ladies of the Erith do not wear leather, or whatever that outfit is.”
“I will not,” Arrow said, voice steady. Her heart was racing, fury replacing any amusement
she had felt. There had been enough demands placed on her by the Erith.
“You will come of your own free will, or I will instruct the White Guard to bring you.”
“I should like to see you try,” Arrow told him, amusement shading her voice again, almost wishing Kallish was present to hear that demand. She was confident that none of the cadre leaders present would accept such a command. “I am not yours to control. House Liathius has been empty for decades. Perhaps you should return to your duties there?”
“Do not speak to me of duty, child. You have no idea what I have done. What I have sacrificed.”
“That is true. But it does not matter. I am not coming with you. I am not going to House Liathius as your pet project. Find something else to occupy your time.”
“Serran,” Kester interrupted again, cutting off whatever the furious mage would have said. “You have been gone a long time. Most Erith believed you dead. Perhaps you should enjoy the fact you are alive.”
He seemed to have silenced the mage, at least for a few minutes, Serran glaring at the warrior with his mouth half-open.
Into the silence came the sound of a door opening. They all turned to find Thomshairaen in the doorway.
“I did not mean to interrupt,” he began, sounding uncertain. The shadows on his face were strong, eyes dark hollows in the uncertain light.
“Come in, please,” Arrow said, taking a few steps forward. She did not offer to draw him in by touch. It had not taken her long to realised that the warrior was wary of contact. Whatever demons he carried were troubling him just now.
“I was trying to talk some sense into my granddaughter. You can help,” Serran suggested.
“Unlikely.” Thomas’ mouth kicked up in a tiny smile.
Returning to Kester’s side, Arrow felt rather than heard him take a sharp breath in and glanced up at him. He was staring at his uncle, expression tight. Perhaps he had not seen the full extent of Thomas’ darkness before now, when the warrior was stripped down in the moonlight.
“You are all alike. I suppose you will encourage your nephew in his unacceptable pursuit of my granddaughter?”
Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set Page 114