Dark Horse (19 page)

She wondered what message he had for Savaric. It was difficult to read the chief's reactions. Surely the emissary was not offering Savaric the same bribes and threats that Medb had offered her father.

That would be a mistake with a clan this big. Perhaps the Wylfling had been here before.

"The Khulinin is a powerful clan," the man was saying. "And a large one. It is well known your tents lap the edges of the valley and your herds overgraze the meadows before you leave each summer. Soon your young men wil be pressing for tents of their own and there wil be nowhere to go. You need more land, perhaps new val eys, to begin holdings for another encampment before the Khulinin burst apart."

"I was not aware the Wylfling were paying so much attention to our problems. I am honored. I suppose you have a solution?" Savaric asked with barely concealed sarcasm.

"Oh, not I, Lord," the emissary purred. ''But Lord Medb. He feels the lands to the south of Marakor should be relinquished to you and your heirs for a second, even a third holding. He would be wil ing to endorse your petition to the council for the formation of another holding."

"That is most generous of him, but I doubt the tribes of Turic would appreciate my claims to their holy land."

The emissary waved aside the notion. "You would have nothing to fear from that rabble. They will come to heel when they see the combined swords of Wylfling and Khulinin."

"Combined?" Savaric asked, his eyes glittering.

"Of course. After all, our clan holdings border the Turic's land as well. They would be trapped between two enemies. My Lord Medb is so pleased with the idea he is willing to aid you in, your claim on the southern hil s.”

"In return for what?"

The man shrugged eloquently. “A small tribute---once a year, perhaps---to help feed our growing werod. We, too, are pushing the limits of our winter holdings."

"I see." Savaric raised an eyebrow and asked thoughtfully, "Why does Medb concern himself with the welfare of other clans? If he wants use of the Turic lands, he could take them himself.”

"It is no secret that Lord Medb's ambitions exceed the position of chieftain. He needs strong, loyal allies, and he is willing to pay well for them. His generosity can be endless."

"With lands and favors that are not his to give,” Savaric said with deceptive mildness.

The emissary's manner shifted subtly from ingratiating to a self-confident superiority, the arrogance of a man assured of his future position. "The lands wil be his soon. Lord Medb's hand is growing stronger and if you do not accept his proffered friendship. . ,”

"We will end our days in smoking ruins like the Corin," Savaric finished for him.

The man's eyes narrowed. "Possibly."

"May I have time to consider this generous offer?"

Gabria smiled to herself and regretted her father had not taken the same tact. Perhaps if Dathlar had control ed his temper and not thrown the emissary out, they would have had time to escape Medb's wrath.

The emissary was taken aback. He had not expected any cooperation from the obstinate Khulinin; he assumed even the vain hope of gaining the rich grasslands to the south would not sway them to Medb's rank. Perhaps the Corin massacre had affected the clans more than the Wylfling imagined.

The emissary hid his surprise and smiled coolly. "Of course. You may tel Lord Medb in person at the gathering,” The man hoped that would discomfit the chieftain, since it was very difficult to say no to Medb's face.

Savaric only leaned back and nodded. "Fine. I will do that. Was there anything else?"

"Yes, Lord. My master asked that I give you this as a small token of his esteem,” The emissary drew a smal bag out of his belt and dropped something onto his palm. Gabria craned her neck around the door to see what it was as the man handed the object to Savaric. The chief held the thing up to the light, and Gabria gasped when a flash lanced through the hall with brilliant beams of color. It was a gem called a fallen star, a rare and very precious stone once loved by the sorcerers.

"The stone is a flawless blue taken from one of Lord Medb's mines in the hil s. He wants you to have it as a reminder," the man said blandly.

Savaric's brows rose together. "Indeed. This is quite a reminder,” He sat back in his seat and nodded toward the door. "Tell your master I will think about his offer."

The emissary accepted Savaric's abrupt dismissal with ill-concealed irritation. He bowed and left.

The chieftain sat for a moment, juggling the gem in his hand as he stared at the floor.

Gabria wondered what Savaric was thinking. She knew the chief well enough to know that he was not seriously considering Medb's offer, but she did not understand why he had accepted the stone.

Medb's gifts were always double-edged.

The girl was about to return to her work when Lady Tungoli called to Savaric from their private chambers. The chief tucked the jewel under his cloak, which was lying on the dais, and went to talk to his wife, drawing the tapestry closed behind him. The hal was empty. Gabria knew she should not pry into the chieftain's business, but her curiosity got the better of her.

She waited a ful minute, listening for voices or footsteps, then she slipped to the dais and pul ed aside the gold fabric. The gem was set in a cloak brooch of finely woven gold, and it glittered on the dark fur of the seat like its namesake, the star. It was an unusual gift to give a chief such as Savaric. The offer of land was a fat better bribe to the lord of the Khulinin. Why had Medb sent it? He had offered no gifts like this to her father, and Gabria could not believe that Medb was giving a fallen stat to Savaric out of the generosity of his heart.

Gabria picked up the gem. A strange tingling touched her fingers. Surprised, she dropped the brooch and the tingling stopped. What's this, she thought. She gently touched the gem and the sensation happened again, like the distant vibration of a faint pulse of power. Gabria was inexplicably reminded of Piers's healing stone. She had not touched the red stone, but she sensed intuitively that this gem and Piers's stone would have the same feeling of power.

Gingerly, Gabria picked up the gem again and held it up to the light from the hall's entrance. The jewel tingled between her fingers. She looked into the gem's brilliant, scintillating interior and wondered if this strange pulse was caused by magic. The gem had come from Medb, so it was possible he had put a spel on it.

The thought of Medb's magic frightened her. She was about to drop the jewel back on the fur when suddenly an image began to form in the center of the stone. She watched horrified as the image wavered, then coalesced into an eye.

Not a simple human eye, but a dark orb of piercing intensity that stared into the distance with malicious intelligence. Gabria shuddered. The eye's pupil was dilated. Looking into its center felt like falling into a bottomless hole.

"Gabran! What are you doing?"

Gabria leaped back, startled out of her wits. The image vanished. The gem fel out of her hands, bounced off the stone step, and rol ed to Savaric's feet. He leaned over to pick it up.

"No," she cried abruptly. "Don't touch it."

Savaric's hand halted in midair, and he glared at her, his black eyes menacing. "Why not, boy?"

Gabria stumbled over her words and her face flushed with guilt. She backed away from the dais, stil shaken by the memory of the eye in the stone.

Savaric straightened, and the gem sparkled by his foot. "Why not?" he repeated harshly.

"It came from Medb. It's dangerous," she mumbled.

"How do you know where it came from?" the chief demanded.

She glanced back at the storeroom, then down at the floor. "I overheard the Wylfling emissary."

"I see. And why do you think this gift is dangerous?"

Gabria swallowed. Her throat was very dry. What could she say? That she had felt the power embedded in the stone and saw the image of an eye in its center? She could hardly believe that herself.

But she was certain of the danger the gem posed and the damage it could do if Savaric was not warned.

"I, uh . . . it is not exactly dangerous," Gabria replied, stumbling over her words. "But it is . . . I have heard Medb is learning sorcery. I thought he may have tampered with the gem. It feels strange when you touch it."

"I noticed nothing strange about the gem." Savaric crossed his arms and stared at the girl. His face was dark with anger. "But you felt free to see for yourself."

"I am sorry, Lord. I should not have touched your gift, but. . ." She paused and from somewhere in her memory, she remembered an old story her father liked to tell about a jealous sorcerer and a seeing stone. "Father told me a tale sometimes," she said, looking up at Savaric, "about a sorcerer who kept watch on his wife through a jewel with a spell on it. It was a spell of surveillance, and it enabled the man to see and hear everything the lady was doing."

The anger on Savaric's face cleared a little. "I have heard that tale, too," he said thoughtfully. "What made you think Medb may have done something similar to this brooch?" Gabria clasped her hands behind her back to hide their shaking. "The Khulinin are dangerous. Medb needs to keep close watch on you and a spy would be too obvious. This gift just seemed overly generous."

Savaric picked up the gem and turned it over in his hands. He slowly relaxed and, when he final y spoke, his voice was no longer caustic. "I thought there was a hook in this gift, but I never imagined something like a seeing spel ." The chief gestured toward the door. "Did you know the Wylfling?"

Gabria sighed with relief, for it seemed Savaric had accepted her explanation. She considered the lord's question and her lip curled. "He delivered several messages to Father. Has he been here before?"

Savaric was about to answer when something occurred to him. With a deft motion he folded his cloak and wrapped the jewel in the thick material. "If you are right about this," he said, tucking the bundle under his arm, “we don't need to announce your presence to Medb."

Gabria drew a long breath. She had not even thought of that. "What wil you do with the jewel?"

she asked.

"Since I have chosen to trust you, I would like to see if your suspicion is right. The gods knew where you got this idea, but if it is true, perhaps we can use the gem to our advantage. I might try a little test. It would brighten Medb's day if he thought the Khulinin would accept his offer."

"He would be most pleased," Gabria said with a small smile.

"For a while. He will have a rude awakening at the gathering." He stopped and studied her intently.

"Do you seriously intend to claim weir-geld by challenging Medb to a duel?"

"Yes. It must be a Corin who takes the payment."

"It may not be possible."

Gabria stiffened and her eyes met Savaric's stern gaze. The chief was not going to dissuade her from chal enging Medb. She had trained her body and prepared her mind for battle against her clan's killer and no man, no matter how close in kinship or strict in lordship, was going to divert her. She would fight the Wylfling lord against her chief’s direct order if need be. "I will make it so," she stated flatly.

Savaric walked to Gabria's side and put his hands on her shoulders. His dark eyes glittered like jet, but beneath the cold glints was a warmth of sympathy. "I know you have your wil set to fight Medb alone, and I will honor that as best I may. But there are other factors you do not know about that may influence your decision. When the council is held, remember who is your chief."

Gabria nodded. She was relieved that Savaric seemed to accept her resolution and her obsession for vengeance. What bothered her, though, was his reference to "other factors." There could be nothing that would stand between Gabria and her vengeance on Medb.

Savaric's hand dropped and amusement eased the hardness in his face. "The emissary will be here for another day or two, presumably to rest before he returns to Wylfling Treld. I will see if Athlone is fit enough to argue with his father over the rule of the clan. Medb would be fascinated to think a rift was developing in the Khulinin."

Gabria smiled. "And will you wear your new cloak brooch, my lord?"

Savaric chuckled. "Of course. You had better stay out of sight." He shifted the folded cloak to a more casual position and walked purposefully out of the hall.

Gabria watched him go and noted with a pang of familiarity the way his Stride lengthened and his body tensed as he prepared for some important activity. Her brother, Gabran, used to radiate that kind of energy, a concentration of thought and power that boded il for anyone who tried to thwart him. It was a calculating, tightly control ed strength that had helped him defeat many opponents in chess or swordplay. She had seen the same energy in Savaric before.

Gabria knew now that Savaric was concentrating on the jewel and his plan to test her warning about the seeing spell. If all went well, Medb would fall for Savaric's ruse and reveal his hand. Gabria knew the gem had been tampered with, and she was certain of the purpose of the spel . But how had she known? Savaric had not noticed anything "strange about the gem. Only she had felt the power in the stone and saw the image of the eye. After the incident with Athlone the day before and her second dream, this encounter with sorcery was too coincidental to be ignored.

Something was happening to her, and she did not like it.

Medb was a sorcerer, not she. Yet she was the one who was accused of striking two men with an ancient arcane power. She was the one who recognized the spel on the brooch. If what Piers said were true, then she was the same as Medb: a profaning heretic.

Footsteps sounded lightly behind the girl, breaking her distraction, and she whirled in alarm to come face to face with Tungoli. The lady's arms were full of rugs. "Gabran, I am sorry to startle you.

Jorlan is looking for you." Gabria's eyes flew to the doors where the evening sun was setting beyond the rim of the plain. "Oh! I didn't know it was so late." She dashed to the entrance, thankfully leaving her thoughts behind. "Thank you, Lady," she cal ed and was gone.