Cethe (50 page)

evil was measured. Even so, were they al not modern men, dedicated to the pursuit of reason? It was a sign of superstition’s hold,

thought Severyn, that even they would hesitate.

“Don’t listen to him! He’s a blasphemer! A heretic!” shouted Remy, struggling with his bonds.

“The Orders closest to the Church grow more powerful with each passing decade,” Severyn said with a cool look at the

Hunter captain. “Loth’s Dragons, the Sword of the Holy Warrior, they jealously guard secret Holy spel s as dangerous as those the

naragi once commanded. Those are the enemies we must ultimately face, the despots with the most to lose if Tanyrin’s kings grow

strong again.

“I believe there was a reason St. Aramis made the Covenant! I believe that in his wisdom, he foresaw the day when the

Church would seek to assume the king’s power for itself. He knew what it would take to stop them! Tel me, Jeremy, how would you

deal with the knightmages of Zelenov?”

Jeremy had no answer to that, of course.

“And do you honestly believe Mick… MICK! Would ever turn against me?”

Jeremy’s frown changed subtly.

“The Church knows damn wel what it wil mean to have a Lothlain king and a loyal naragi working together once more.

Apparently, it has always known.” Severyn scowled down at Remy. “Isn’t that true?”

Remy’s lips thinned into a stubborn white line and he didn’t answer.

“Naragi only bed other men,” said Auron slowly. “Is it possible they cannot bed women without losing their power?”

Severyn shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. There are male and female witches among the h’nara. We had a witch at

Messerling, a man with a wife and six children!”

“Witches,” snarled Remy, “are not naragi!”

“We’l not be able to hide it forever,” Auron warned. “If you’re right, Michael’s rather dramatic escape wil tel Locke his forced

wedding failed. He’s going to know Mick’s a naragi. Then what?”

Severyn’s spirits lifted. “I hadn’t thought that far,” he confessed. “But I know between us, we’l think of something.”

Auron’s jaw dropped. Jerry said something profane, a look of awe on his square face. Auron burst out laughing. “Damn it,” he

chortled. “Why not? We’ve come this far! What’s a little heresy between friends?”

“Jeremy?” Severyn fixed his gaze on the big knight.

“I don’t like it,” Jeremy admitted, “but I trust you and I trust Mick. I wish there was another way, though. What if other h’nara

decide to fol ow suit?”

“Unlikely,” replied Severyn. “It would have happened before now, don’t you think?”

Jeremy had to admit, however reluctantly, that Severyn had a point. He scowled at Remy whose face advertised his bitter

disappointment. “What about him?”

“I’m curious,” said Severyn. “What else does the church know about the naragi that we don’t?”

“I’l tel you nothing!” spat Remy, nearly beside himself. “Release me at once!”

“Jeremy?”

Auron elbowed their big friend. His face was screwed up, a sure sign he was deep in thought.

“What is it?” Severyn asked. “If you stil have reservations, Iarhlaith, say so. I value your opinion.”

Jerry lifted his head, brow furrowed. He scratched his chin thoughtful y. “I was just wondering,” he mused, “what it’s like to bed

another man.”

In YLD 1318, Aramis Lothlain took as his queen the Lady Elizabeth Moravia, second daughter of Wilder Darling, Baron of

Fenely. Queen Elizabeth gave him four sons and a daughter, all of whom distinguished themselves in service to the people of

Tanyrin.

from:
The Chronicles of Tanyrin: Volume II
,

Year of Loth’s Dominion 1349

The rain continued through the week, relentless, and the flooding grew worse. With the help of Captain Lake and the

guardsmen, the people of Embry abandoned their vil age, streaming uphil to the abbey with what belongings and livestock they

could salvage. They took over the big, empty barns and set up camp al around them, trampling the lush grasses into muck.

According to the reports Stefn received, priests were scarcely seen.

“Sulking inside the abbey compound,” said the informants.

Stefn doubted, however, that Abbot Drummond had meekly accepted the sudden change in his station. For too long, the

Church had wielded great influence in Shia. Even provincial despots clung tightly to power. It was comforting to know Captain Lake

shared his wariness and had set watchers around the abbey, making note of who came and went.

After eight days, the rain final y ended and, right behind the sunshine came Marin, Auron Chal ory and a company of Auron’s

guard. Stefn’s relief made him giddy. He sat with Auron late at the dinner table, recounting the past weeks and disasters.

“Thank god Shia is built on high ground,” he said. “It’s muddy, but nothing is under water. The troops have been invaluable in

assisting the refugees. So has the Church.”

“The Church?” Auron shook his head. “You astonish me!”

“They had little choice, fortunately.” Stefn grinned, remembering the abbot’s choleric reaction to the appearance of soldiers on

his doorstep.

“You’ve grown uncommonly bold,” Marin noted. “Lake gave me a ful report earlier. Don’t cause any trouble. The Church could

make things damned uncomfortable, if they chose.”

“It’s Mick’s influence,” retorted Auron. His eyes gleamed with mischief. “He would never keep his head down, either.”

“Do Prince Severyn and Lord Arranz plan to come to Shia soon?” Stefn asked, trying to make his voice light and unconcerned.

His question brought a quick exchange of glances from Auron and Marin. Stefn felt a quiver of unease.

“I can’t speak for Sev, but Mick should be here soon,” said Auron final y. “There was a bit of a dust-up in Lothmont. Why? Do

you miss him?”

Marin said something under his breath. Stefn’s face burned. “No,” he said too quickly. “Of course not.” Hastily, he changed

the subject, tel ing them what he’d learned of the abbot’s plans.

“A few dozen Penitents working the abbey’s fields would be the perfect excuse to return Hunters to the parish,” Auron said

thoughtful y. “How many slaves did Drummond expect to receive?”

“He didn’t say, but he’d set aside three good-sized barns to house them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Auron said lightly. “After al , you forbade him to bring any Penitents into Shia. They wouldn’t dare go

against your orders, would they?”

The question hung in the room, making Stefn squirm inwardly. “They might. It was why I hoped the prince would be coming.

Drummond wouldn’t dare go against his wishes!”

“I’m sure Sev wil support you in any confrontation with the Church,” Auron said. “It’s just that things are a little, er, busy right

now in Lothmont.”

Another exchange of looks. Stefn felt a flare of irritation. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” He remembered suddenly the

moment of vertigo and panic on the rainy road to Embry. “A week ago or so?”

Marin looked amazed. “How the hel did you know that, m’lord?”

“By God!” Auron leaned forward across the table, eyes going wide with realization. “He’s Mick’s sathra, of course!”

Auron knew?

“Er, wel …” Marin gave Stefn a helpless look. Stefn wanted simultaneously to hit Auron in the nose and sink into the earth.

“I’ve wondered at such a close friendship!” Auron hooted triumphantly. “I remember our catechisms! What did al naragi have in

common, wel , aside from being able to work the Dark Stream?”

Auron knew Michael was a naragi?

Furious, Stefn pushed back his chair and got up. Auron, laughing, reached out and caught his sleeve. “No! Don’t go! Sorry,

old man! Truly. We’l tel you everything.”

Reluctantly, Stefn sat back down and listened in growing astonishment to their tale. Michael had been abducted? Expected to

perform in his marriage bed in front of witnesses? The poetic irony of it al made Stefn choke with bitter laughter.

“Yes, I was amused, too,” Auron said. “Our haughty Lord Arranz, his virtue threatened by a wisp of a girl and another sathra. I

thought you might appreciate it.”

“A-another cethe?”

“Ah, yes. I forgot to mention that, didn’t I? Locke’s right-hand man has the Blood, or so Michael claims. He was Mick’s way out

of the situation, as it happened.” Auron clearly enjoyed tel ing the tale. Marin, alternately blushing and snorting, listened in silence,

avoiding Stefn’s eyes.

Stefn should have found the tale gratifying. If anyone deserved a taste of his own treatment, it was Michael Arranz. But

instead, the story disturbed him. He found himself wanting badly to see Michael. That night, his dreams were even sharper and

more erotic than usual.

Auron spent the next few days with Captain Lake, seeing to the training and preparation of the troops already in place.

Although his absence saved Stefn from the embarrassment of facing Auron’s wicked sense of humor every day, it left him with little

to do. He’d read al the new books Prince Severyn had added to the library. The rain made riding more chore than pleasure. He

would have liked to oversee the management of the refugees, but his reputation as a sin-catcher made him obviously unwelcome

among them.

“Do you think I could order more books?” he asked Marin one night after dinner. “If I can’t travel, I’d at least like to read.”

“I don’t see why not? Can you use some of your household money?”

Household money?

Marin smiled indulgently. “See Hanson about it.”

Hanson was surprised to be queried, but readily revealed there was plenty in the household accounts to add to the library. Did

His Lordship wish for the staff to send for reputable booksel ers? Stefn had never even considered the idea, but as the earl,

natural y they would come to him! Feeling cheerier than he had for months, Stefn hurried off to compose a list of preferred titles.

The afternoon was fair and mild, a light breeze stirring the lush green grass. Michael’s coach pul ed up the winding drive and

through Shia’s open gates. Hooves echoing against the castle’s inner wal s, he approached the main house. Several smal carriages

and covered wagons were drawn up before it. He eyed them curiously as he descended from his own vehicle.

Hanson greeted him with a bow and the murmured news that His Lordship was in the formal parlor with the tradesmen.

“Tradesmen?”

“Booksel ers, my lord.”

Michael nodded, grinning. “I’l announce myself,” he said.

The main parlor was a large, long room. Usual y it featured a dignified arrangement of formal seating circles, with objects d’art

displayed tasteful y here and there. No longer. The couches and armchairs had been pushed to one wal , while every table,

regardless of shape, height or size, had been pressed into duty supporting piles of books.

Michael walked into the fray. The merchants hovered in the midst of their stock, eagerly observing the progress of a slight,

familiar figure at one end of the room. Several noticed Michael and gaped. He walked on to Stefn, ignoring the silence spreading in

his wake.

The earl turned and froze at the sight of him. Michael’s heart sank. Then Stefn recovered. Color ran swiftly to his cheeks.

“Lord Arranz!”

“Good afternoon. Keeping busy, I see.”

“Marin said it was al right.”

Michael heard the defensive edge. He shrugged. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“History.” Stefn held a large book, quite old from the looks of it. “Preferably books written before the war.”

“How interesting.” Michael paused to pick up one of the volumes lying nearby. The yel owed frontispiece declared its print

date to be shortly after that time. “Any luck?”

“Some.” Stefn’s gaze lingered on him. Michael lifted an eyebrow and Stefn’s already deep color deepened. He looked away,

opening a book and fidgeting with its pages. Michael devoured the clean, chiseled outline of Stefn’s profile, the way the soft, dark

hair looked against his skin.

“How long are you planning to stay in Shia, my lord?” asked Stefn final y.

“I don’t know,” replied Michael honestly. “How do things go on here?”

It was surreal talking like this, surrounded by books and booksel ers, when al Michael wanted to do was to strip Stefn naked

and have him. He heard himself make light, witty conversation and, without quite realizing how or why, soon found himself fol owing