Crystal Shadows Page 33

  * * * * *

  The neat column of numbers refused to tally.

  Beltha leaned back and rubbed her eyes. Ever since Ariek had loaned her the coin to start a life free of the slavers, she’d focused all her energy on providing a haven for girls who were worse off than she had once been. She selected her clientele with care and shared the profits.

  Until a year ago, Ariek had been a frequent visitor, but he never bedded the younger girls, preferring to spend his nights in Beltha’s chamber. She hadn’t hoped for more—aristocrats didn’t fall in love with women they had once paid for. Or so she had thought.

  She picked up the quill, nearly crushing the shaft in her grip. The Bride of Lotark had stirred sympathy and jealousy in tandem, emotions Beltha wasn’t used to mixing.

  The door slammed against the wall. “Where is she?”

  Beltha looked up from the ledger, quill poised above the parchment as if she’d been concentrating on her accounts.

  “Ariek. So good to see you.”

  “Don’t joke with me, Beltha. Where’s Danat? I can’t find her anywhere.”

  Beltha placed the pen in the inkwell and leaned back in her chair, her hands light on the armrests. She met Ariek’s gaze. “Gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean—gone?”

  “She left you.”

  Ariek’s blue eyes registered his disbelief. He gave a short laugh. “She couldn’t have left me. Where would she go?”

  “Loetahl.”

  He stared. Then he closed the door and advanced to the edge of her desk. Placing his palms on the polished wood, he leaned forward until she could smell the musk of his sweat. “What in Tarol’s name is going on?”

  She rose and crossed her arms. “Danat said she wanted to go home. Then she left.”

  “You let her?”

  “I won’t keep a girl in my house against her will.”

  He pushed off the desk and muttered an oath. “You should have kept her here until I got back.”

  “How was I to know when that would be?” She came around the desk and put a hand on his arm. “I asked her to wait, but she refused. She couldn’t leave fast enough.”

  “She’s afraid she’ll be found.”

  “No. She wanted to get away from you. Damn it, Ariek, she wanted to kill your child!”

  Ariek started, then caught Beltha’s shoulders in a painful grasp. “My what?”

  For the first time in her life, Beltha looked into Ariek’s eyes and was afraid. “Let go of me,” she said quietly.

  His grip loosened. “Tell me everything. Now.”

  “I knew she was carrying. She denied it at first, then begged me for a draught to get rid of it. I refused.”

  Ariek paled. “Go on.”

  “She said the child could be Solk’s, and she wouldn’t have it—even though she admitted the father could just as easily be you.” Beltha spread her hands. “She would have gone no matter what I did, Ariek. I gave her clothing and money. She left three days ago.”

  Love and anger warred in Ariek’s eyes. Beltha tensed, wondering which emotion would claim victory.

  “I’ll find her.”

  She let out a long breath and watched the door slam.

  * * * * *

  Danat pulled the woolen cap low over the Mark of Lotark. One short, frizzy curl escaped. She poked it back in, hoping the black dye she had bought at the market would hold.

  She shrank into the shadow of a large crate. So far she hadn’t attracted too much notice in her rough boy’s clothing, but she didn’t want to force her luck until the ship set sail. Her hand touched a small pouch hanging from a cord around her neck. Beltha had given her gold and jewels, all the while grumbling about how Danat was the most stubborn woman she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Danat almost smiled. It felt good to be stubborn again.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on the image of Loetahl she’d painstakingly assembled in her mind. Sunlight flooded the white sand. Green waters sparkled with tiny jewels of light. She ran along the shore under the palms, arms flung wide, her colorful silk tara whipping in the warm breeze.

  Horses galloped alongside, unfettered. She splashed into the surf, watching tiny fish dart out of her way, the waves embracing her like a mother. She emerged from the water and dropped onto the beach. Warm sand dusted her skin…

  “You there! Boy!”

  Danat jumped. “Sir!”

  A huge, unshaven man glowered down at her. “All hands on deck. She’s putting out with the tide. Don’t let me catch you in the hold again.”

  Danat nodded and rushed past him. She’d hoped to remain hidden until the ship was well out to sea, but it seemed now she had no choice but to join the rest of the crew topside. She swung herself up the ladder onto the deck. A shout came from above, where sailors ran the rigging.

  Longshoremen were heaving cargo across the gangplank. In the harbor, a tugboat waited, its ropes taut. Danat fell in with a line of boys who were passing sacks of grain into the hold. She kept her head down and set to work, answering the greeting of her nearest companion with an unintelligible grunt.

  The captain stood with his hands folded across his chest, watching his crew with one eye while he conversed with a man dressed in black. Danat’s gaze lingered on the stranger’s broad shoulders and short, sandy hair. He shifted slightly.

  Ariek.

  A sack of grain fell with a thud at her feet.

  “Clumsy oaf,” the next boy in line muttered.

  “Sorry.” Danat grabbed the sack and heaved it, then turned in time to catch the next one. She stole another glance at Ariek.

  He leaned toward the captain, speaking earnestly. The captain gestured to one of the mates, and the sailor joined the two men. She strained, but couldn’t make out their words. A sack fell on her foot. She cried out and dropped to one knee.

  Ariek turned and looked straight at her, his gaze narrow. The next instant he was beside her, hauling her to her feet. He dragged her from the cargo line and deposited her unceremoniously on the deck.

  She sprawled on her rear, her arms thrown behind her to stop her fall. Ariek crouched over her, blue eyes glittering. He plucked the cap from her head and stared.

  “Tarol’s blood! What have you done to your hair?”

  She swallowed. “What are you doing here?”

  He leaned closer, his anger hitting her in waves of heat. “I’m asking myself the same thing.”

  Abruptly, he straightened and paced away, running one hand over his head. A gust of wind blew across the deck, sending a shiver up her spine.

  He swung around and faced her. “I thought you loved me.”

  “I…I do, Ariek.”

  “What manner of idiot do you think I am? A woman in love doesn’t risk her life running away from her lover.”

  “I am not running away.”

  “No? What do you call it?”

  Danat scrambled to her feet. She’d never before been the focus of Ariek’s anger. She barely recognized her gentle lover in the sarcastic stranger standing before her. Fear coiled in her stomach, but she raised her chin and resisted the urge to back away.

  “I am not running away,” she repeated. “I’m going home.”

  “Home.” He spat out the word as if it were poison. “What about me, Danat? Do I mean so little to you?”

  Danat looked away, toward the open sea. It wavered, dissolving in a sheen of tears. She blinked them back. “You mean so much, Ariek, but I’ve always known our love would end. I thought it would be when you got tired of sneaking past the priests.”

  He swore.

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Now, suddenly, I’m free. The Bride of Lotark is dead. You don’t know the woman I am now.”

  “I know enough.”

  “How can you? I don’t know myself. A few days ago, I had no choices. Now there are so many my head is spinning. I am sure of only one thing. I have to go home.”

  Ariek’s eyes flashed with pain, then took o
n a more distant expression. “You could have asked me to take you there.”

  She looked away. “You are a wizard. You must stay in Katrinth. I cannot.”

  He moved closer, too close. “What of our child, Danat? Will you kill him?”

  A rush of nausea surged. Hot tears spilled on her cheeks. “I don’t know that it’s yours.”

  “I don’t care. I want him—or her—anyway.”

  “How can you, Ariek? How can you love him, knowing Solk could be his father?”

  “How can you kill him, knowing he might be mine?”

  Her knees buckled. A moment later, she found herself on the rough wood of the deck, with Ariek’s arms around her.

  “His father doesn’t matter,” he said. “Only his mother.”

  She shuddered. “I want him to be yours. More than anything, but when I think of Solk…”

  He eased away and gripped her shoulders, searching her eyes. “Then don’t think of him. Think of us. As a family.”

  She stiffened and tried to push him away. “No. I will not belong to any man again, Ariek, not even one I love. Forget me. I cannot stay in Galena, and you cannot leave the Hierarchy.”

  “I can do whatever I damn well please.” He rose abruptly, leaving her suddenly cold on the deck. “Wait here.”

  She squinted up at him. “Where are you going?”

  He strode across the deck and hailed the captain. After a few minutes of conversation the seaman nodded and shook Ariek’s hand.

  “It’s all set,” he said when he rejoined her. He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. “We’ll have the captain’s cabin for the voyage. There are several crates of clothing with the cargo, something should fit us.” The deck lurched. Danat grabbed his arm.

  “We’re underway,” he said. Her eyes widened when she looked to the dock and saw it was true. Ariek brushed her cheek with his thumb, then eyed her shorn head dubiously. “I’ve ordered hot water to be brought to our cabin.”

  “You’re not going ashore?”

  He drew a deep breath. “You’ll not be rid of me so easily, Danat. You don’t have to be my wife if you don’t wish it. I just want to be by your side.”

  Danat’s heart leapt into her throat. “You would go to Loetahl? For me?”

  His eyes spit sparks. “Tarol’s blood, Danat. I would go to the swiving Inferno for you! Surely Loetahl will be a more pleasant destination.”

  Her tears began anew. Though his countenance had darkened, she couldn’t mistake the glint of desperation in his eyes. He loved her. She had been a fool to doubt it. And despite the storm of emotions her freedom had unleashed, her love for Ariek was a reality she did not doubt.

  “I’d be honored to show you my homeland, Ariek,” she said, then frowned. “But why would the captain offer us his cabin for the voyage?”

  Ariek gifted her with a smile, the first she’d seen since he found her.

  “Didn’t you know? This ship belongs to my father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Water rippled over the red-gold rocks, carrying the first crimson leaves of autumn. Gina stared into the stream, dry-eyed, wondering if she would ever feel anything again. She had come to the Water Clan hoping to feel Derrin’s spirit before letting it go forever, but the task eluded her.

  Zahta touched her arm, offering strength. Gina met the old woman’s gaze. She hadn’t noticed before, but Zahta’s eyes were so very much like Derrin’s, not in color, but in shape and expression. A dull ache squeezed Gina’s chest.

  She shouldn’t have come.

  “I often found Derrin in this place as a boy,” Zahta said, her voice soft. “When sorrow or anger weighed upon his spirit, he would skip pebbles over the water until his arm ached.”

  A painful lump in Gina’s throat blocked her answer.

  “Derrin’s life has never been his own, Gina. The Goddess chose him to do her will even before he entered his mother’s womb.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Seventh talisman’s disappearance set into motion the means for its discovery. My daughter encountered Derrin’s father during the same moon that saw the destruction of the Seventh Clan and the loss of its talisman. After the Galenan was found dead, a clansman followed his backtrail to make certain he had traveled alone. He found the tracks of a man who had come from the village of the Seventh Clan.”

  “Are you saying the same man who killed my grandmother led Derrin’s father to the Baha’Na so that Derrin could be born and bring the talisman back to the clan?”

  The old woman nodded.

  “That was just a coincidence.”

  “No. After the man who killed your grandmother and father took leave of the Galenan, he was taken by a direwolf on the hunt.”

  “But Derrin said the wolves don’t hunt people.”

  Zahta nodded. “Even so.” She placed her hand on Gina’s shoulder. “The Goddess chose Derrin’s path even before he entered his mother’s womb. Do not judge him harshly, Gina. He followed his duty at every turn, even when he would have preferred to cut his own trail. Now his task is completed. Perhaps he does not know how to choose his own desire.”

  The old woman faded into the forest like a breeze. Gina picked up a rock and threw it into the stream. It landed with a satisfying plunk, so she picked up another one and threw it harder. She and Derrin had made love thinking they had no future. Did he regret their love now that she didn’t have to leave his world?

  She flung the third rock with all her strength. It hit a boulder and ricocheted back at her, missing her head by inches. She spun around and watched it land at the edge of the stream.

  And froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

  Derrin stood in the shadows. She blinked, sure she had imagined him, but he refused to disappear. How long had he been watching her?

  He was leaner, hungrier than she remembered. Weariness haunted the angles of his face and settled in the hollows of his cheeks. He wore the uniform of the Hierarchy, with the addition of a scarlet sash at his waist. His eyes were gray ice, warning her to stay away.

  Yet he was here. What did it mean?

  She took a step toward him. His shoulders tensed, as if braced for a blow.

  She took a second step, and a third. He watched her, holding himself so still he might have been a statue. She stopped an arm’s length away, close enough to hear his sharp intake of breath, and wondered if he would leave without speaking if she didn’t break the silence.

  She eyed the red sash, a vivid stripe against his black tunic. Balek had worn one. She guessed at its significance. “Have you been admitted to the Upper House?”

  “Yes.”

  The silence stretched between them. Gina waited for what seemed an eternity. She stole a glance at his face, but his gaze was fixed on something in the distance.

  “Why are you here?” she asked at last.

  “I’ll not be coming again.”

  “Oh.”

  “You are of the Baha’Na. You are Na’lara of the Seventh Clan, the Center of the Circle.” A tremor of awe tinged his voice, but pain of the lost boy he’d once been flickered in his eyes. Gina watched him master it with a skill born of long practice. “I’m an Outsider, Gina.”

  “That’s not true, Gray Wolf.”

  He started, then looked away. “A name can’t change the past.”

  “Forget your father. You don’t have to take the blame for what he did.”

  He sighed. “I’m not speaking of my father, but of myself. I’ve lived too long among the Galenans to go back to a life with the Baha’Na. The People have an innocence I can never regain. You know that as well as anyone.” His hand closed in a fist. “I murdered Balek rather than bring him before the High Council for trial, and I can’t pretend I wasn’t happy to do it. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “Is Galena your home, then?”

  “No. Not truly. But the Hierarchy has elected me to the Upper House, and I’ve accepted. There have been other changes as
well. A more progressive leadership has come forward.”

  “I suppose you had nothing to do with that.”

  He met her gaze and she couldn’t mistake the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders loosened imperceptibly.

  “I may have made some suggestions to the right people,” he said. “The restriction requiring wizards to dwell in Katrinth has been lifted and the apprentice fees have been substantially lowered. In the future, admittance to the Hierarchy will be based on talent, not family.”

  “Will you join the High Council, then?”

  He shook his head. “There is another path I wish to pursue. The webstone is gone, but the ruin it spewed remains. There is much need of healing in Galena. I’m going to live near Sirth, where I can explore the power of natural stones like the ice crystal that sparked your vision. I suspect the true cure for the Blight lies within the wilderness. I’ve already accepted two apprentices.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do well.”

  “Thank you.”

  Again, the silence lengthened and Derrin made no move to touch her. A hot rush of anger flooded Gina’s veins, displacing her grief. While she’d been grieving, Derrin had been picking up the threads of his life and planning a future that didn’t include her.

  “What of our joining, Derrin?” The words escaped before she could pull them back, unsaid.

  His gray eyes hardened. “If I had known who you were, I would never have touched you.”

  “But you did touch me.” The words sounded like an accusation.

  “It was wrong. You must join with a man of the Baha’Na, not an Outsider.”

  “Don’t tell me who I should join with!”

  “You are Na’lara! You must choose a partner.”

  “I am not Na’lara! In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not wearing the talisman.”

  He stilled. “Where is it?”

  “I gave it to Pasha. She’s my cousin and has as much right to it as I do.” She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself tight. “How could I lead the Seventh Clan? I never ran in the forest as a girl. I didn’t grow up learning the duties of a Na’lara.” She tasted the salt of a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.