Knight of a Trillion Stars (26 page)

Lorgin shrugged, grinning faintly. Traed knew him all too well.

“It will not do you much good, Lorgin, for I tell you I will not set foot on Aviara again.”

“There are things you do not know.” Lorgin glanced at Traed, reflected in the firelight, realizing that there were probably things
he
did not know as well. But such things did not concern him now; he had a particular task to accomplish. It was not a time to let his thinking be sidetracked.

Traed cupped the horn between his hands. “What if I tell you I do not wish to know of these things? Will it make a difference?”

Lorgin ignored his words, plowing on. “Yaniff told me your mother was of the Tan-Shi.”

“A Tan-Shi?” Traed looked perplexed. “How does he know that?”

“How does Yaniff know anything? Believe me, if he said it, it is so.”

Traed shook his head. “It is impossible. Tan-Shi take an oath of chastity. They devote themselves to the Rites of Passage. When they take this oath, they divest themselves…” Traed sucked in his breath.

Lorgin finished the thought for him. “They divest themselves of the right of the Transference. All power which flows into them will flow out, taking with it their very lifeforce.”

Traed was clearly stunned. “But…how? My father—”

“Your father
knew
she was Tan-Shi.”

“I do not understand any of this.” He took a large swallow of his
keeran.

“Your father met your mother when he was but a young man. Even though she was a young girl at the time, I am told he loved her even then. While he waited for her to come into her maturity, she had discovered that she had a different calling. She loved Theardar, but only as a friend.” Lorgin paused.

“Continue.”

“While Theardar was on a mission for the Alliance, she took the oath. When he returned, he was enraged, refusing to let the matter go. Even though they were the best of friends, my father could not reach Theardar or make him see reason. His behavior…his behavior concerned Krue who sought out Yaniff’s counsel.

“When Yaniff and Krue returned to find Theardar, it was too late. He had already kidnapped your mother from the Holy Sanctuary. He took her against her will.”

Traed paled.
“By Aiyah!”

Lorgin sipped his drink, giving Traed a moment to digest the terrible story. “The Transference was completed.”

Traed leaned forward in his seat, dropping the horn to the floor. It bounced off the stone with a heavy clang.

“Are you certain my father knew she had already taken the oath?”

“Yes. He knew, but he took her anyway. Do you understand? Your father knew this but could not face the fact that it was he who killed her, killed that which he loved above all else. So, when her lifeforce left her at the moment of your birth, he blamed you. It was for this the Guild excommunicated him.”

“Because he killed her.” Traed’s voice was a mere whisper.

“No.
Because he blamed you.
”

Traed’s head snapped up. “What are you saying?”

“The Guild would have punished Theardar for the terrible thing he had done, but not excommunicated him. It was a crime of passion, and very possibly unbalanced behavior. They would have tried to heal him. He is, after all, a sixth-level mystic. Such power demands a certain respect. But when he blamed you, they could not allow this dishonor to continue. I understand Yaniff was opposed to their decision but was overruled. He believed your father needed a healing, not a breaching. Krue begged Theardar to leave you with us permanently, but, as you know, he refused. Although he did let you stay with us from time to time.”

Traed stared into the flames again. “Did you know there were days when he would forget I was there? Then suddenly he would look at me as if he were just realizing he had a young boy who needed to be cared for. I lived for those moments. It was as if he would briefly come to his senses and leave me on your doorstep. I am ashamed to say I used to pray he would never return to take me away. My own father…But he always did.”

There was nothing Lorgin could say.

“In a sense, Lorgin, you have just confirmed what my father has always blamed me for. My mother did die because of my birth.” When Lorgin made to protest, Traed cut him off. “Anyway, it does not matter now. The fact remains
that Theardar was mad. When did this come upon him? Before or after he decided to take her? Or did he always have the seeds of madness within him, festering, waiting to grow?”

Traed’s hands covered his eyes as if he could not stand these tortured thoughts another moment. His voice became a raw, painful sound. “
Waiting to grow in me?
”

“No!” Lorgin knelt in front of Traed, pulling his hands away from his face. “Yaniff told me this will not happen to you.”

Traed flung Lorgin aside, pacing the room as if he were trapped. “Yaniff! Yaniff! What does that old man know!”

Lorgin stood. “More than either of us care to speculate.”

Traed slumped back down into the chair. Lorgin stood over him. “Yaniff wants you to leave this wretched place and come back with me to Aviara.”

Traed sighed. “For what reason?”

“He wishes to speak with you. He will not come here.”

“In case my
loving
father decides to pay his favorite and only son a visit? So, Yaniff fears to confront the Beast.”

“Yaniff fears nothing. It is you he thinks of. He would not battle your father on your own doorstep.”

“Does it matter?” Traed scoffed.

“It matters to him.”

“You said he opposed the Guild’s decision. Why would he wish to fight my father?”

Lorgin looked away. “For what he did to you. He robbed the Charl of you, and by his actions, interfered in your destiny.”

Traed was surprised. “Yaniff still speaks of me?”

Lorgin smiled softly. “Often and with great fondness. Traed, you must come with me.”

Traed bowed his head, hating having to deal with these strange emotions. Yaniff and the family of Krue were the only kindness he had known in his young life. They had
taken him in, making him one of their family. Krue had almost called him son. Suleila had been like a mother to him. And Yaniff…In truth, he would not mind gazing upon the withered face of his old teacher again.
Yaniff wanted to see him.

As if one could refuse the venerable mystic’s summons. It was over. Lorgin was right; there had never been a choice, now or before.

He looked up at Lorgin, eyes bright. A man caught between honor and self-preservation. The mettle of the man spoke volumes in just three small words.

“I will come.”

Lorgin said nothing, but placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

It was late when Lorgin entered the bedchamber. He had stayed with Traed for some time. It did not seem right to leave the man alone after revealing such truths to him, so they drank
keeran
, sitting side by side in front of the fire, mostly silent. Lorgin knew that ofttimes more was said with silence than with words. He believed this was such a time.

They agreed it would be best to leave at daybreak. Traed told Lorgin of a little-known tunnel point his father had told him of, a day’s journey to the west, high in the mountains. Although more difficult to access, its proximity to the keep, and Lorgin’s need for haste, made it the better choice.

At least their trek through the desert would be lessened considerably.

Lorgin gazed down at Deana fast asleep under the cover, curled into a tight ball in the middle of the bed. The nights of Zarrain were, indeed, chilly. Quickly he shed his clothes, getting under the warm blanket.

He was not surprised when she rolled right over into his arms.

Smiling to himself, he waited for her to push her knee between his thighs. It was her favorite sleeping position with him, since their very first night together in the sanfrancisco; and he did not think she was even aware of it.

Ah…yes.
He felt her leg slide between his.

His palm ran down her back, enjoying the feel of her soft skin as he idly stroked her saucy curls, trailing them with the tips of his fingers down her back. She made a little sound and cuddled her face deeper into his chest as she slept.

Lorgin gazed down at Adeeann lying peacefully in his arms, his thoughts wandering back over his conversation with Traed.

For the first time, he thought about Theardar, not only the suffering the man had caused, but how he must have suffered as well. Having to watch his child grow within his woman, knowing that with its life came her death. Did a man pray for the death of his child or his wife? How could he choose? Combine that with the knowledge that he was the executioner of that which he loved above all else…It was enough to drive a man mad…if he was not already mad.

His hold on Deana tightened as he tried to place himself in the mind of Theardar. It was a technique Yaniff had taught him as a means of gaining understanding and perspective. The mystic believed that only in such a way could one truly understand the intricacy of a situation. The large picture, Yaniff would tell him, shows much, but tells little. Look for the small pictures, the details within—there lies the pathway to the truth.

He tried, but it was impossible to have a full sense of Theardar, for Lorgin was not of a like mind and would never have committed the deeds that Theardar had. Nonetheless, on one level he could feel significant compassion for the man. Lorgin did not think he could bear to lose this Little Fire in his arms and wish to live. Only on that level could he empathize with Theardar.

Yes, he fully understood the consuming passion a man could have for a woman.

A passion that became life itself.

The rest, like Yaniff, he could not forgive.

Lorgin awakened Deana before daybreak with a soft kiss on her lips.

“We must arise now, Adeeann. We leave this day for Aviara.”

Deana sleepily opened her eyes, noting the dark shadows in the room, as well as the dark shadows under Lorgin’s eyes. “It’s still night.” She burrowed back under the covers against his warmth. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

“We cannot, much as I would like to. Come, wake up.” He squeezed her derriere. She rubbed against him in protest.

“I can’t wake up—see, my eyes won’t open.” She raised her face to him, eyes tightly shut.

His low chuckle vibrated against her forehead. “I think I know how to open your eyes.”

“How?”

He adjusted her leg with his thigh and slipped inside her.

“
Lorgin.
” Her eyes popped open.

“You see? If you have a problem, you need but ask me.” His hands pressed against her bottom, bringing her closer to him.

She placed her hands around his neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Kiss me,” he breathed.

She did.

Later, after they had dressed, Lorgin removed something from his cape, asking Deana to join him on the bed. When she did, she noticed he held three black strands embroidered with gold. She thought she recognized a few of the symbols as the same ones on his cape. He sat behind her, motioning for her to turn around.

“What are you doing?” His fingers threaded through her hair, smoothing it down.

“You will see.” His capable hands began sectioning out her long hair.

She tried turning around. “Are you braiding my hair?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her back. “I am weaving your hair. Be still.” She felt her hair being very intricately styled. Every now and then, he interwove one of the black and gold ribbons. His touch was very gentle as he silently worked, seemingly enjoying whatever he was doing.

“Why are you doing this?”

“There.” He leaned forward, lightly kissing the side of her neck. “Look in the mirror—tell me if you like what I have done.”

Deana gave him a strange look as she got up to walk to the mirror. Just when she thought she was beginning to understand him, he always did something weird. She cautiously looked in the mirror.

“It’s beautiful! How did you do it?” Her red hair was pulled back in a weave design, the ribbons laced all through the intricate pattern. The black and gold shot through her hair with each cross section.

Lorgin walked over to stand behind her. “Aviaran boys learn this at a young age. I am honored I have pleased you.”

“Wait a minute—is this one of those weird customs of yours?”

He smiled slightly. “Aviaran men weave their wives’ hair. It is a sign of pride and respect. The ribbons mark my house, my line, and that you are the mate of a Charl.”

“I don’t know that I like being marked like some—Hey, wait a minute! You mean you have to do this for me every day?” She grinned flippantly at him. “That’s different. I think I rather like the idea of you playing lady’s maid.”

“As usual, I think you twist the meaning to your liking. But there is another reason the men do this,
zira.
”

“Why is that?” She patted her hair in the mirror.

“So that we can
undo
it in the evenings,” he whispered.

She threw him a look over her shoulder. “So, why did you do it now? It will be days before we reach the tunnel point.”

“No, by this evening we will be in Aviara. Traed knows of a tunnel point within a day’s journey from here.”

“I’m glad to hear of it. Is he coming with us?” She had hesitated to ask, but since Lorgin had mentioned Traed, she had to know.

“Yes, he will come.” Deana beamed at him. “And why are you smiling so?”

“I never doubted it.”

His expression was incredulous. “How could you not?”

“Because I know
you.
”

Lorgin’s arms came around her. “Do you?

Before they left, Rejar sincerely told Deana he thought her hair looked very pretty. Even Traed had stopped for a moment on seeing it. He had told her it had been a long time since he had seen a woman whose hair was woven. He had forgotten the beauty of it. Deana graciously accepted the compliments, realizing that what she had assumed to be a simple custom obviously held deep meaning for Aviaran men.

A contingency of Traed’s men escorted them through the desert, up into the mountains. Deana was not surprised that Traed had brought his
phfiztger
with him. Tumbles rested comfortably behind Traed in a little basket on the back of a
prautau.