Emergence (Book 2) (29 page)

"Spare me your sarcasm," the
Imperial Mage said as he entered in a flourish of deep amber robes. His dark eyes flicked across the details of the room. "I know well your disdain for my order."

"Come now, Lord Arnok," Donovan chided, "you sound like a petulant child."

"You take a great risk entering the city. I would not have thought you to be so reckless. I, likewise, take an even greater risk entertaining your summons. Were I to be seen in your company, I would be hard pressed to explain myself."

Donovan arched a brow. "So much for pleasantries."

Arnok's narrow face became even more pinched. He folded his arms, his hands disappearing into his sleeves. "What is it you want?"

"
I want you to use your influence and sway the Emperor in my favor."

"You will find the Emperor to be more swayed by the Lord High General than any of us in matters concerning you."

Donovan wrinkled his nose. "Such a pretentious title for a bastard son. Tell me, Lord Arnok, how much mastery does the Lord High General hold over the Imperial Mages?"

"Over myself,
Rienhold, and a few of the younger mages, none whatsoever."

"And Thadeus?"

"Those who are youngest in our order have no personal memories of you to color their loyalty."

"
And Thadeus is far from young. But perhaps his memories have grown as foggy as the veil." Donovan crossed his knees. He rolled the stem of a fine crystal goblet in his fingers, and for a moment studied the light reflecting from the amber liquid it held. "Tell me, have you chosen his successor?"

Arnok's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Come now, certainly some thought has been given to who should succeed the dotard when your blessed Goddess finally takes him to her ample bosom. The man is ancient. He was ancient when the current emperor's grandsire sat the throne." Donovan awarded Arnok a smile. "You mages are gifted with longer lives than most men of power, but even your years must wind down eventually."

"I hope you aren't considering something befalling Lord Thadeus?"

"Would you rather something befall you?"

Arnok paled. His Adam's apple bobbed as he drew his shoulders back, pulling himself up to his full height. "Are you threatening me?"

"You are very observant. I have always appreciated that quality in a man. It makes lengthy explanations unnecessary."

A side door opened, and Teeva entered the room. Arnok's mouth dropped open before he caught himself and schooled his expression into its normal, sour disdain. The priestess padded over to the mage on her bare feet, light as a cat, the scent of musk trailing with her. She stood on her tip-toes to look Arnok in the face. Donovan saw him tremble when she traced a finger along his ornate chain of office. The priestess circled him, trailing one hand across his body
. She stopped behind him, peering around at Donovan.

"A toy for me?" she asked.

Arnok jerked away from her, putting a chair between them. "I didn't believe you were the kind to keep the likes of her."

Teeva grinned. "He's skittish."

She hopped into the chair, sitting on her feet with her legs spread obscenely, one hand on the chair back and one on the arm. Her breasts pushed against the confines of her bodice when she leaned toward Arnok, and a sheen of perspiration glistened across his bald pate. Donovan would have berated such behavior if not for its effect on the Imperial Mage.

"To be clear, no man keeps me," she said, with enough venom to send Arnok back two steps. "But I could keep you."

Arnok turned away from her to face Donovan, his expression a convoluted mess of scorn and anger, with a bit of fear tossed in. "I will not discuss our business in front of her."

"You will do whatever I desire," Donovan said. "Sit down."

When the mage failed to immediately comply, Donovan eliminated his options. Arnok's eyes bulged as a chair skittered behind him, taking out his knees and dropping him unceremoniously into its upholstered embrace. He struggled to stand and could not. His narrow face reddened, and the pulse of his power as he attempted to free himself rippled between them like a breeze.

"How dare you."

Donovan raised a hand. "Save your righteous indignation."

"Do you think this charlatan's trick will go unnoticed? The Emperor himself--"

"Will what?" Donovan asked. "Run to your rescue? I very much doubt that. He is as oblivious to what occurs within this house as everyone else."

The mage's breath caught. "You've warded it from within? How? That's not possible within the city. No
t without the consensus of the Council." He cast a furtive glance at the priestess. "Is that why you keep her?"

Donovan's lip curled. "She has her uses. That is not one of them. Are you aware the crone is dead?"

"We were aware the possibility existed," Arnok said, still straining against Donovan's hold.

"Then you should also be aware that her power did not die with her."

Arnok's brow furrowed as he worked through the meaning of Donovan's words. His jaw dropped, and his skin took on a sickly, ashen color. He gave up struggling. Donovan thought for a moment the Imperial Mage had given up breathing as well.

"That's not possible."

"Apparently it is." Donovan stood and strolled to the window, his back to Arnok. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes against the stabbing pulse of that supposed impossibility. The wards protecting Nisair and the Emperor were a blend of the power of the land itself, the Order of Mages, and the Imperial family. They had been created to forbid all but benign magic from being used within its walls unless approved by the Imperial Council.

Admittedly, attempting to circumvent those wards were part of the reason Donovan had come to Nisair in the first place. A true test of the power he now wielded. Or that he attempted to
wield. The repercussions of such displays were becoming increasingly difficult to manage.

"What is it you want?" Arnok said.

Donovan blinked his eyes open. "The Lord High General's head on a platter, for one." The amount of rancor in his voice surprised him. He turned back to face the mage, hands clasped behind his back, his face a mask of serenity. "The girl he escorts is my daughter. Did the illustrious Lord General share that bit of information with you?"

Arnok's brows rose. "I was not aware of that connection
, no. Whether he has shared that tidbit with the Emperor, I cannot say. We were simply told you had something to do with the power we sought. That you were seeking the same and, as such, should be considered a threat to the Empire."

"Ah. It never ceases to amaze me how a man such as the General, held in high esteem by the Emperor, a supposed man of honor, can twist facts to benefit himself and find no remorse in doing so. More, that his words are believed without question."

"Not by all."

"I find that encouraging." Donovan reclaimed his seat and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, steepling his fingers. "So, I can count on your support?"

"Support? Against the Lord General?" Arnok shook his head, and put a hand up to wipe the beads of sweat that skittered across his brow. "It is well known we do not share similar views, but to openly go against him would be political suicide."

"And to go against me would be certain death."

Arnok's face once again shaded to white. Teeva edged over in her chair, eyes bright and eager like a hungry predator. "Let me have him."

The mage flinched. "Keep her away from me."

"Aww." The priestess slithered from her seat and scooted to Arnok's side, resting her head on his lap. A tremor ran through him as she stroked his leg. "I would be gentle. I promise."

"Enough," Donovan said.

Her head whipped up, a snarl on her face. She shoved to her feet, chin held high, the ever-present defiance pulling her upright.

"Leave us."

Her lips pulled back over her teeth, and she tendered a curtsy. "As you will, my lord."

Arnok watched her sashay from the room.

"Payment, then, for your aid?" Donovan said.

"That?" Arnok said, with a tip of his head toward the door and a sour look on his face.

"If you like," Donovan said. "Or the throne. Perhaps both."

Arnok's expression gave nothing away. "Besides General Bolin's head, you haven't told me what it is you want here."

"Exactly what he has claimed: My daughter, and the power she wields."

"To do ..."

"Whatever I please."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Splintered Oak Inn sprawled across the ground like a huge, disjointed beast. The main structure had been built around an immense, dead
, oak tree, the bole of which had been hollowed out and now served as the central fireplace. What they had used to coat the inside with to keep it from burning Ciara couldn't guess. Single story additions jutted out haphazardly from the central hub of the inn. They reminded Ciara of the soldier's barracks back at Broadhead, just as plain, but not as ordered. Some were shingled with slats of wood, other sections were thatch. Shuttered windows were spaced irregularly beneath the eaves as though an afterthought.

Bolin had sent Sully ahead to arrange for room and board, so by the time the rest of them arrived a private back room had been prepared and a meal ordered. Several young boys ran out to greet them and take their horses, assuring them they'd see their packs to their quarters as well. The private room they were led to for their meal had a comfortable, homey feel to it. Its low, beamed ceiling and huge stone fireplace reminded Ciara of her aunt Meriol's cottage, and she fought down a pang of homesickness. She sat beside Nialyne near the end of a long table that dominated the center of the floor. The rest of the men, including the four soldiers Captain Rothel had sent along, ranged themselves along either side, a somber group in its entirety even though they'd passed a blessedly uneventful day. One more day on the road and they would be at Nisair

Chairs scraped, the men starting to their feet when Bolin and Garek joined them. Garek waved them down.

"At ease, lads." He took the seat across from Ciara, leaving Bolin the head of the table.

Several servants followed them in carrying trays of food. Simple fare, but more mouthwatering than anything they'd had on the road, or at Broadhead for that matter. No one talked much, and Captain Rothel's men ate with far more gusto than any of the rest of them. Salek barely had anything, and Berk made a good show of shoving food around on his plate before excusing himself. Garek watched him go, then gave Sully a look. The Lieutenant shook his head in response and went on with his meal.

When the rest of the men finished and started to take their leave Sully stood, nudging Salek to his feet. He turned to Garek before he left. "I'll see to it everyone finds their beds."

Surprisingly, Garek pushed his chair back and made to leave with the men. He bowed his head to Ciara and Nialyne. "Sleep well, ladies." He slid a frown Bolin's way. "With the dawn, General."

Bolin opened his mouth to say something, but Garek had already turned away, leaving him to scowl at the door as the Commander closed it behind them.

Nialyne gave Bolin a long, thoughtful look. "Is everything all right?"

"Aye," he said, but the tone of his voice spoke otherwise. He leaned his arms on the table and stared into the contents of his mug, the scowl not leaving his face. The silence dragged on, punctuated by the snap and hiss of logs in the fireplace, and the muted sounds of laughter drifting in from the common room.

"Ciara, do you know where Donovan is?" Bolin didn't look up, and asked the question so quietly it took a moment for Ciara to realize he'd spoken to her.

"Do you?" she asked.

That drew his gaze from under his brows, a glint of anger in his eyes. "Were you thinking of telling me, then? Or do you have a reason for keeping that bit of information to yourself?"

"No."

"To which question?"

Ciara lifted her chin. "No, I wasn't going to tell you."

She expected an outburst of wrath, but got only the quiet drumming of his fingertips on the tabletop as he studied her. "Why not?"

"I don't want you going after him."

"And what do you intend to do?" he asked, and the anger reached his voice.

Ciara rolled her lips together and averted her eyes. She honestly didn't know what she intended to do.

"May I make a suggestion?" Nialyne said.

Bolin cocked his head. "The voice of reason?"

Nialyne's brows rose and she answered him in Galysian, her voice sharp and her eyes hard. Bolin looked away, his fingers drumming with more intensity.

"Neither of you
--" and Ciara received the same glare "--is going to sacrifice yourself to Donovan on some misguided notion that it will save the other. I swear, I have never met such a well-matched pair of stubborn, single-minded, individuals as the two of you. I am glad you have found each other because very few others would survive you."

Ciara's jaw dropped, and Bolin
's fingers stilled in mid motion.

"Has it never occurred to either of you, that there are more ways to solve a problem other than running headlong into it?" She turned and pinned Bolin with a look. "Regardless of what you think, it is not a sign of weakness to ask for help."

"I've never claimed it was."

"No? When is the last time you asked anyone for help in any matter?"

Ciara snorted. "Never."

Both pairs of eyes landed on her, and she looked hastily away.

Nialyne took a deep breath and splayed her hands on the table. "I will not allow another rash act by either of you. I hold you both too dear. We will trust in the Emperor's judgment and will seek his counsel upon arriving at Nisair. There will be no argument or compromise on that point. This discussion is over. Good night."

The Galysian e
lder stood, holding herself stiffly. Bolin rose with her but she ignored him. Without another look at either of them she strode from the room. A log snapped in the fireplace as if to punctuate her leaving, and the noise of the common room rushed in through the open door to fill the silence left in the wake of her departure. Ciara risked a glance up. Bolin stared fixedly at nothing, rubbing his chin with the tip of his thumb.

"I really wasn't thinking of doing anything," she said, her voice quiet, half hoping he didn't hear.

"And I'm to believe you?" He didn't look at her.

"No, I don't suppose so. I guess I've never given you much reason to, have I?"

Raucous laughter spilled across the room, and Ciara turned to watch the people drinking and having a good time. She wanted to be one of them; some simple farmer or traveler without a care beyond the normal challenges of day to day life, enjoying time with friends and family. But she had precious few of either of those, and no one seemed to feel much like laughing these days.

"I'm afraid of what's going to happen," Ciara said. She turned her attention to a knot in the wood of the table.
The smooth lines of the grain flowed around it like water around a rock in the middle of a stream. She sat stranded on that rock, watching the world rush around her, powerless to stop it. "Actually, I'm terrified. And really, I just want to go home. I want to sleep in my own bed, help Findley with the horses, make sure the miller's son hasn't gotten into any more scrapes...but I don't have a home to go back to, do I? Even if I could." She sighed. Words made things so much more real. "You know, I never thought of a future without Meriol. I never thought I'd leave her farm, or be anything other than a simple country healer. Though I'm not nearly as good as she was. And now...everything has happened so quickly. My head spins when I try to make sense of it." She closed her eyes. "I don't know what's going to happen, or what I'm supposed to do."

Bolin wrapped his hand around hers and drew her to her feet, into the circle of his arms. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. "All you need to do is trust me."

Ciara leaned back to look up at him. "No. Because when you say that it just means you're going to put yourself in danger. I don't know what my future is, but I know I don't want one without you in it."

Bolin studied her face. Ciara noticed for the first time the deep lines around his eyes, and the shadows that lingered there. "I can't give you back what you lost, Ciara, and I can't promise what you want me to. Not because I don't want it as well, but because, as much as you don't want to hear it, I have a duty
."

She stiffened and started to pull away but he held her fast, his gaze intense.

"Listen to me," he said when she tried again to distance herself. He held her by the upper arms now, firmly but not ungentle. "I can't change who or what I am, or the implications of that, though Goddess knows there are times I want nothing more. I honestly can't think of one thing I've ever done to garner your affection, and I'm not sure I even deserve it, but you need to see me for who I am and not some image you hold in your head. If I have to give my life to insure your well-being I will do so, without thought, a thousand times over."

"I never asked you to." Ciara didn't want to hear it. His words twisted around her heart, squeezing the life from it.

"You didn't need to. I would do so whether you wanted it or no because I can't bear the thought of you hurt or in danger."

She pulled against him. "Let go of me."

He surprised her by doing it. Ciara stood there, confusion running through her as Bolin crossed the room and closed the door. He kept one hand braced against it, his back to her, and for a long time said nothing. For Ciara's sake he could keep it that way. She should have left with Nialyne because now the only way out was past , and his mood frightened her. He'd once again managed to send her emotions swinging from one extreme to the other. Damn him. Damn this whole situation. Ever since Meriol's death, Ciara's life had been in turmoil. Probably all some elaborate joke of the Goddess to see how much she could take.

"I'd like to go to my room, if you don't mind," she said,
forcing the words out as though they weren't the ones she really wanted to say. And they weren't, but she didn't have any others.

Bolin's shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath. He gave a short laugh as he shook his head. "It seems I've developed a bit of a problem thinking clearly where you're concerned." He turned to
face her, leaning back against the door. "In case you believe otherwise, that's not a good thing. It has caused me to second-guess my own decisions as well as everyone's around me. I've been an insufferable ass to Nialyne. I even questioned Garek's loyalty this morning. Garek of all people. It would have been kinder of me to drive my dagger through his heart. I only hope he'll see his way clear to forgiving me for it, and not kill me instead."

Ciara opened her mouth, but Bolin stop
ped her. "Let me finish."

"No, you've said enough," Ciara said. Her emotions had stilled, landing on hurt with a healthy sprinkling of anger. "It's obvious I've made your life a misery. But don't worry, once we get to Nisair you can hand me over to the Emperor and be done with me. You won't need to be bothered with me ever again."

"Love of the Goddess." It came out in a growl as Bolin pushed off the door and came toward her.

Ciara retreated until a chair against her backside stopped her. She reached back to steady herself, and flinched when Bolin lifted a hand as though to touch her cheek. His jaw tightened, and he lowered his arm, curling his fingers into a fist. He paced to the fireplace, and Ciara had just made up her mind to head for the door when he turned to
look at her again.

"The thought of losing you terrifies me," he said. "I have a hard time thinking past that, and, quite frankly, it's not an emotion I'm familiar with. You have no idea what you've done to me." Bolin took a shaky breath. "I would rather turn around and take you back to Galys Auld, but I have no choice. I don't know what Donovan's game is any more than I know what you're liable to do. All I know for certain is he's running out of time to make a move. But he will. Likely betw
een here and Nisair. How, where..."

"I could find out."

"No. You'll do nothing. You'll stay with Nialyne until we reach the city, and not use your power for any reason. Is that clear?"

Ciara nodded. She wanted to be angry but seeing Bolin so unsettled had pushed her to the brink of panic.
It must have shown on her face because Bolin's brow furrowed, and he swiped his fingers through his hair, dragging them over his scalp to rub the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"