Sword of Jashan (Book 2) (6 page)

The other Healer raised his brows, not looking back at her. “I wondered. Is he so compelling, that he can make a Healer break her vow?”

Kirian did not take offense. Jesel’s words were too similar to her own recent thoughts. “I fled my posting to protect my life, Hon Jesel. As for my vow—I will not break it. I have healed those who needed it on every step of my journey. I even sought out the sick to offer my aid. I think I have kept my vow even beyond what the College intended, when they post Healers for the comfort of only a
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patron or two.”

“I suppose that shows me.” Jesel grinned at her.

“Well, I was not thinking of you.” Kirian flushed.

“It is all right. You are one of our rebels, it seems. I cannot fault you for it. The College means well, but its healing is often diverted to those who can afford it, it is true. Or those who can bring support to the King. But Hon Kirian, then why are you not out healing the peasants in the fields, instead of with Lord Callo? He does not look to me as if he is without resources.” Jesel’s eyes were gleaming, teasing her.

“I suppose you have me there. Like everyone else I have more than one motivation.” Kirian resumed packing her pile of supplies into the leather pouch. There was a rustling noise, and Werli came scurrying into the Healer’s room.

“Healer, a man is here,” she said.

“You would make an excellent sentry,” Jesel said. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He went to the door and reappeared a moment later, followed by a familiar figure. Jesel was talking as they entered. “Need another headache remedy, Hon Chiss?”

Chiss paused in the doorway as he saw Kirian. His face was always hard to read, but Kirian did not think he was pleased to see her there. “The same as last time, please, Hon Jesel.”

Jesel waved at Kirian. “Could you do the honors, Hon Kirian? My hands, you know. Look, the remedy is there, in dried form, but needs mixed with three parts of wine for each part of the remedy.”

Kirian found the remedy in a jar on the top shelf. As she opened the seal, the aroma of dry rueberry wafted out, and she remembered picking rueberries on the cliff path at Seagard on a clear winter day with the surf beating on the rocks far below. For just an instant, the memory was so strong she had to pause and close her eyes. That was the day she had been forced to leave Seagard Village.

“All right, Hon Kirian?” Chiss asked.

“Yes.” She measured out some of the remedy, found the wine, and diluted the powder with care, mixing it well. Jesel watched her, as any good Healer would. She held the cup out to Chiss, who shook his head.

“I need to take it with me,” he said. “Last time, Hon Jesel gave me a jar to carry.”

She looked at him. “All right, a jar. Have you brought back the old one? No? Please do next time, for Jesel’s sake. Here you are, Chiss. It must be used within the day, or it will weaken.”

Chiss took the remedy and bowed. He held out a coin to Jesel.

“There is no need,” Jesel said. “Lord Zelan handles my wages and supplies.”

“Please,” Chiss said.

Jesel grinned and took the coin. It glinted, flashing silver in the light—a whole kel. “If it makes you feel better, I have no objection to a little extra cash on the side. My father says an allowance is not necessary for a grown man, and my wages don’t cover any luxuries. Thank you, Hon Chiss. If those headaches continue, see me.”

When Chiss was gone, Kirian finished packing her supplies in silence. Something seemed wrong about Chiss’ visit. She thanked Jesel and said her goodbyes to Werli, who still crouched on the ground outside the cottage. As she walked back up to the manse, something nagged at the edges of her thoughts, but she could not identify what was bothering her.

Lord Callo was not present at dinner. Lord Zelan was also absent, presumably on the Hunt.

“They are on patrol,” Ander told her over wine and dessert. “Looking for anyone who should not be in these parts, rebels or King’s men.”

She spent a pleasant evening with Lord Ander and his tutor Shan-il, playing a game of three-sided cards, until she heard the others return. It was dark by that time, and she waited a good while, sipping wine by the card-strewn table as Ander and Shan-il went off to their rooms, until enough time had passed for tired men to disarm, eat and drink, and clean up. Then she made her way to Lord Callo’s room and knocked.

Chiss answered, carrying a bundle of dirty clothes in his arms. He looked disapproving. He announced her, and Callo called her in as Chiss left the room. Callo stood as she entered, this gesture a
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habit which made her smile. His hair was unbound, lit by the firelight to a river of gold. His smile was warm as he held out his arms to her, and she walked into his embrace, feeling a weight of tension drop from her as he enfolded her.

“Ah, Kirian. I am glad to see you.”

“You saw me this morning, foolish one,” she said tenderly, reveling in the feel of his arms around her.

“Ah, but only at breakfast, in a group,” he said. “Not like this. I thought you would be asleep.”

“I waited for you.”

“I am glad you did.” He released her as he resumed his seat, but then drew her down onto his lap, where she curled against him.

“Do you know,” she said, “this is the first time we have ever nestled like this?”

“That is certainly a revolting word,” he said. “But it does feel good.” He reached over her, poured some wine into a glass, and handed it to her. She examined the thick green glass, darkened by the blood-red wine, throwing back reflections of the firelight.

“This is real glass,” she said. Real glass was rare and expensive. She had not thought little Northgard stretched to such luxury.

“Dria Mar,” he explained.

“Oh.” She could indeed see the lady spending coin on expensive things. She felt Callo’s throat move as he swallowed his own wine. “Where were you earlier?”

“Patrolling. Looking for King’s men.”

“Of course, you found nothing.”

“You say ‘of course’?”

“Well, do you think he will try the same way twice? Now that the manse is on guard?”

“I have no idea what Sharpeyes will think of. You could be right. Let us forget all the royal schemes and just relax tonight.” He drank again, and through her shoulder resting on him she felt his muscles ease. “What have you been doing?”

“Me?” She shrugged. “Looking around. Meeting with the Healer here, who by the way was kind enough to replenish some of my supplies. I have met a few people.”

His hand was stroking her hair, long slow movements that made her close her eyes for a moment. Then she felt his lips on hers, just a soft touch.

“I want to stay with you tonight,” she said.

“Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled, nuzzling her neck.

“All night, in your bed.”

“Lady Dria Mar will know about it before breakfast even,” he warned her.

“I don’t mind. She has a certain opinion of me anyway, does she not? I want to fall asleep next to you.”

“Jashan, that sounds good,” he said. “Stop your talking, woman, and come here.” She fell into another kiss with him, this one deep, filling all her senses. His hands slid under the neck of her tunic, setting off sensations in her skin. She sighed and pulled away a little despite his murmur of protest, just far enough to begin unlacing his tunic. He pulled her close again, unheeding, and she laughed as she felt her tunic being loosened from her shoulders. Cool air licked at her skin. She shivered as she felt his hands caress her breast.

His breath grew ragged. His arms went tight about her and he stood, carrying her to the bed. In a moment she lay across the wide coverlet while his hands stripped her, stopping to caress her along the way.

It seemed to Kirian that a door opened in her mind, and she lost track of her surroundings. All of a sudden they were together, and the fire in her body was reflected by a roar of fierce desire in her mind that she had never felt before. She made love to Callo’s body but at the same time was exquisitely aware of every inch of her own body. Warmth followed his every touch on her skin, and she was enveloped in fire, inside and out. When she looked into Callo’s amber eyes, they were blind with desire.

She had never felt such a transformation. The rest of the world grew dim and she thought she could feel Callo’s mind as well as his body, loving her. She and Callo moved together until a tide washed over her, filling her with light. Callo, above her, was frightening and beautiful, his body illuminated by firelight and magery.

“Gods, you are beautiful,” Callo said afterward. His voice was husky. He lay next to her, pulled her closer. “Like a white bird in a green wood.”

She had never heard such lyrical words from him before. She flushed and held him tight.

He smiled. She rejoiced to see it, that slow sleepy smile that she had never seen him give to anyone else. She wanted to say she loved him, but she remembered she had told him that long ago, and would not worry him with it now. After a few minutes of lazy words and lengthening pauses, she heard his breathing even out into sleep.

Pulling herself out of her warm nest, she turned on her side to watch him. His hair was tangled on the pillow, his face turned slightly away. One hand lay on his broad chest. She admired his beauty as he slept, remembered the intensity of their passion which she had never experienced before, and then sighed as the enchantment of the night slipped away and she knew what had happened.

The desire she had experienced was not all her own.

She sat upright in bed and put her head in her hands. Beside her, Callo slept on. How could he have been unaware of what he had done? She remembered his eyes, almost unseeing as he was possessed by his intense desire. She remembered the overwhelming emotion, the intoxication of a lust so strong it must have been imposed upon her. No, she had never felt such before—not that her experience was wide, but it did exist. She would know if tonight’s rage of lust and pleasure was usual.

She rolled out of the bed. Her foot caught on the blanket and she stumbled, awkward in her shock. She gathered up her clothes with shaking hands. She took one deep breath, then another, then pulled her tunic over her and sat in the chair by the wall. The first shock of her discovery began to fade, and Kirian began to feel calmer.

In spite of her sense of violation, she knew the intrusion had been unintentional. What Callo had done tonight—all unawares, she trusted—bore no resemblance to the manner in which King Ar’ok had forced lust into Eyelinn’s emotions, turning her into his willing plaything. Kirian had come to Callo’s bed of her free will. No force, no psychic influence brought her to him—just love. If in the midst of passion Callo lost control over his ku’an talent, thus magnifying her experience—well, some might call that a good thing, even an advantage, adding to her pleasure in their lovemaking.

She was not one of those people. She wanted her permission asked before anyone—even her loved one—influenced her mind. She shivered, still feeling shocked.

This could not happen again.

Kirian rose and finished dressing in the yellow glow of the single lamp they had left burning. Callo slept on, undisturbed. She lit a candle from the lamp, then blew the lamp out, leaving the room in a heavy darkness broken only by the slow rhythm of Callo’s breathing. Slipping out of the room with her candle to light her way, she pulled the door closed behind her and returned to her own room. There, unable to sleep, she lit her own lamp and sat in a chair by the tiny window, staring out at the night.
 

Chapter Four

Callo came downstairs in the morning, his head foggy from sleeping too late. Chiss had not come to awaken him, and the tea on the tray at his bedside table was as cold as well water. As he descended the last step and turned towards the breakfast room, he saw three people standing as if frozen in the center of the hall, staring at him.

It struck him as funny. “Yes?” he said. “What’s wrong? Have you eaten all the breakfast?”

No one smiled at that. He realized that Kirian and Chiss looked pale and sick, while the boy Ander stood beside them, his eyes huge with apprehension.

“There was an early messenger, trying to reach Lady Dria Mar before she arrived home,” Chiss said. “It is some kind of bad news out of Seagard Castle.”

“My lady mother and father have been locked in the breakfast parlor with the messenger and one of her guards. No one else has been allowed in,” Ander said.

He could feel his shoulders tense. Foreboding seized him. “What news?”

A door closed in the hallway. Balan ran Gesset, chief of Dria Mar’s guardsmen, stormed out of the breakfast room. His face was set in grim lines. He saw the group clustered in the center of the main hall and stopped short, staring at Lord Callo.

“I’ve been sent to bring you to Lady Dria Mar,” he said. He glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door to the breakfast parlor.

“What is the news?” asked Callo.

“Bad news,” Balan said. His voice was strained. “A messenger has come from Sugetre. Lord Arias Alkiran was beheaded for treason the day after you escaped Seagard. The King slew him by his own hand before his family and his men. He stayed to perform the unbinding ritual and attend the burning, then left for Sugetre.”

Callo’s mind went blank. The room seemed to sway around him. Arias, dead? Slain by the King’s hand, with brutal swiftness to punish what Sharpeyes had seen as betrayal. The fire of the color magery began to rise within him with his emotion; he could see the aura at the corner of his eyes.

Arias, his half-brother and best friend in this world, was dead. Arias who had laughed with him, defended him from the crude taunts of other boys when they were young, dragged him into his own tangled dealings with women and politics. Arias—so young, so alive just a sennight ago.

Dead, at the hands of a royal brute.

“Why did you leave him there, my lord?” Balan demanded. He reached out and grabbed Callo’s arm. When Callo turned to look at him he saw the warrior’s face was wet with tears. “Why did you not take him away with you?”

Callo pulled his arm away and went back up the stairs while stunned grief and anger began to coalesce in his mind. His sword leaned in the corner of his room; he grabbed it and a cloak, checked that his knife and purse were at his belt. Then he went back down the stairs into the white faces of the four who stood there. They stood aside as he swept past and out the door. Before it closed, he heard Chiss call, “My lord! Stop!”