Knight of a Trillion Stars (33 page)

“Where did you find Theardar?” Lorgin wasted no time on preliminaries.

“On a small barren planet, far into the Rim. It is a bleak, strange place—perfect for such dire experiments.”

“Is there an appropriate tunnel point?”

“Of course.”

“When do I leave?”

“As soon as possible. His tamperings are bordering on the cataclysmic. Already some outlying regions are experiencing ripple effect from his irresponsibility.”

“I will say good-bye to Adeeann and be ready to leave.”

Yaniff sighed. “You know by now she must accompany you, Lorgin.”

“I do not wish it. I expect a dangerous mission. I knew as much when I agreed to take it on both for you and the Alliance. However, surely you cannot expect me to expose my wife to this danger?”

“Let me explain something to you. Adeeann is your wife, in a sense, because of this danger. By now, I know you realize that your quest and the prophecy are interrelated. As much as you desire it,
she cannot remain behind.
Her presence is essential.”

Lorgin’s hand went unconsciously to his Cearix. “Why? Why is her presence so essential?”

Yaniff shrugged. “This I cannot say. I only know it is so.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Cannot say or will not say?”

Yaniff would not respond.

They walked in silence then. For the first time in his life, Lorgin contemplated going against his old master.

Yaniff abruptly stopped, placing his hand on Lorgin’s arm. “You must not falter now, Lorgin.” His ancient eyes pierced the younger man. “I tell you it is imperative she be there. I would have your oath on it. Now.”

Lorgin felt as if his heart were stopping. Yaniff was demanding he prove his loyalty by swearing an oath. Every principle he had lived by came down to this moment. Should he obey his teacher and friend, or keep his woman safe, away from any danger? His expression reflected his indecision.

“Speak now—do not waste my time any longer!”

Lorgin knew Yaniff would not force his hand like this unless he believed it to be absolutely necessary. The ancient wizard was the most revered seer on the planet. A lifetime of Charl mystic training came to the fore. He would have to protect Adeeann while he faced Theardar.

“She will be there.”

Yaniff relaxed instantly. “Good.”

They walked on for a time, each with his own thoughts.

“Your wife came to see me yesterday,” Yaniff casually said.

“Did she?”

Yaniff was silent.

Lorgin’s curiosity overrode his sense of propriety. “Did she have a particular reason or was it a social visit?”

“She thought she had a reason. In reality, she did not.”

Lorgin’s glance skittered Yaniff’s way. “I see.”

They continued a few paces in silence.

“She carries your child.”

Lorgin missed a step.

For a moment his face reflected boundless joy, then quickly darkened. “Has the woman no sense? Why did she not wait until the danger is past? I vow I will—”

“She does not know.”

Lorgin’s jaw dropped. “How could she not?”

Yaniff smiled slightly. “Things are…different in her world, Lorgin. She is not aware the Transference gave her the power to choose.”

Yaniff gave Lorgin a few moments to digest this and all it implied.

Lorgin rubbed the back of his neck as he gazed off into the woods. When he looked back at Yaniff, his eyes were alight with knowledge.

“You understand now.”

“Yes.” Even though his Adeeann had been ignorant of the ways of the Transference, she now carried his babe. Which could only mean
she had desired it.

“Will you tell her?”

Lorgin thought a moment. “No. She will find out for herself soon enough.

Yaniff nodded. Lorgin ta’al Krue was wise for his years. Yes, a good student. Soon to be a good father.

Deana gathered her bundle of purchases, sitting in a comfortable chair which faced a window to the garden.

Earlier she had visited a delighted Suleila, who insisted they go shopping together. Dragging the younger girl with her, the impetuous Familiar female took her to some of the shops in the hamlet Deana had seen several days ago.

It had been a rather fun day.

Deana had discovered a lot to like in the mischievous woman who so reminded her of Rejar. Suleila, it seemed, was always up for a good time. Like a whirlwind, she had ushered her into shop after shop, examining items with many a humorous comment.

Suleila purchased loads of items. Dresses, scarves, handcrafted items, shawls—you name it, she bought it. After a couple of frenetic hours, Suleila realized that Deana wasn’t purchasing anything.

She turned to her with a puzzled frown. “Why do you not buy anything, daughter? Do you not see at least one thing that you like? After all, we must keep our shop owners in business. We have a responsibility. I tell Krue this often.”

Deana grinned. “I bet you do. What does he have to say about that bit of reasoning?”

Suleila smiled coquettishly, revealing an astonishing beauty not dimmed by her years. “Oh, he agrees. Especially when I point out to him how much he benefits by my purchases.” She held up a filmy-looking night robe.

Deana laughed. “You know, Rejar is very much your son.”

“He wears sheer night robes?” Suleila joked.

“No, I think he’s more apt to take them off.”

“His father’s son, then.” She winked. “But seriously, Adeeann, why do you not buy anything?”

Deana shrugged. “I don’t have any money.”

Suleila giggled behind a hand-painted screen, sticking her head out. “You are very funny, Adeeann. These merchants recognize Lorgin’s ribbons in your hair. Lorgin will be pleased to pay for anything you wish.”

Yes, he probably would. Lorgin was an extremely generous man. However, she was not about to start charging up bills to him as if he were her—Well, she was not going to get into any explanations with his vivacious nextmother. She rapidly thought up an excuse.

“Ummm, I haven’t seen anything yet that catches my eye.”

“Oh, well, perhaps the next shop.” It appeared that Suleila was a shopping force to be reckoned with.

Deana did see something she liked in the next shop.

It was a weaver’s shop where her eye had been caught by several skeins of the most gorgeous yarn she had ever seen. Silky, yet thick, the brilliantly colored yarns captured her imagination.

Suleila noticed her attention. “You like these?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed.

“Then you must purchase some of the fabric. I know a talented seamstress—”

“No, you don’t understand. I want the yarn itself.”

Suleila’s brow furrowed. “Whatever for?”

Deana turned an impassioned eye on the older woman. “Crocheting.” Here was something to occupy her free time. Not that she had had much of it here on Aviara. And since she was to be here only a short time, she didn’t want to get too involved in anything.

“Crocheting? What is this?”

Deana put her arm around the Familiar’s shoulders. “Let me tell you all about the frustrating hobby of crocheting…”

Suleila had been enthused. They bought the yarn, rushing
back to Suleila’s house, where they talked Krue into fashioning a hook. When Deana demonstrated a few rows of double crochet, Suleila seemed disappointed.

“It is ugly,” she said with blunt honesty.

“True, but for some unknown reason it soon takes over your life. Before you know it, your home is filled with items—little useless blankets, horrendous chair pads, uncomfortable slippers, even small covers for teapots.”

Suleila laughed.

Bidding Krue and Suleila a fond farewell (for they had no idea she was truly saying good-bye), she hastened back to Lorgin’s tree.

This was not like the clay incident! Here was a hobby worthy of the name. By this evening she would be consumed in the addiction.

She began to crochet, the needle flying in her dexterous fingers.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she looked up Lorgin was standing in the doorway watching her with oblique intensity.

“What is this you do with the threads?”

She smiled at him. “It’s called crocheting. I couldn’t help but try it when I saw this beautiful yarn. I hope it wasn’t too expensive,” she said absently. “Krue helped me fashion a hook. Suleila was fascinated…sort of.”

He looked at her work dubiously. “What do you do with it?”

“This is called a granny square. You make zillions of these, then sew them all together to make an afghan. I hate the sewing part. Once, I made one giant granny square so I wouldn’t have to sew anything together. All my friends laughed at it, but I thought…What?” He was looking at her strangely.

“Know you not how much I love you?”

Deana sucked in her breath, dropping needle and crochet onto the floor. “I…
Lorgin.
”

He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “I vow I would willingly give my life for yours. Know that if there were any way to leave you safe in our home and not take you with me on this quest, I would. Your presence is essential, so Yaniff tells me, although he will not elaborate. I fear for your safety, Adeeann, but we must see this through to the end—together.

She had never seen Lorgin so upset. She absently stroked his hair, her mind focusing on his admission.
He said he loved her.

“I—I didn’t know.” Whether she was referring to his declaration of love or the importance of her presence to his quest was unclear even to her.

“When—when do we leave?”

“On the morrow—early.” He gathered her around the waist, resting his head on her lap.
Against his child.
“I pray I have done the right thing.”

“What do you mean?”

When he lifted his head his eyes were damp. Instead of directly answering her, he said, “I could not bear it if anything happened to you.”

She looked down at him as if focusing from out of a fog. My God, how could she have not known how deeply he cared about her? The answer was there on his face.
He loved her.

“When we get to the Rim, you must promise me to do exactly as I say,
zira.
Without hesitation. Promise me now.” The hands at her waist squeezed, ensuring her cooperation.

“I—yes, I promise.”

His head fell back to her lap, his hands clasping her tightly around her middle. “Then we stand a chance.”

Why was he so concerned about facing Theardar? From what she had seen, Lorgin was a fearsome warrior, brave, intelligent, capable. The fencing exhibition on Zarrain displayed
a brilliant skill. Rejar had told her he had been invincible in the past, their strongest warrior.

She teased him, trying desperately to lighten his mood. “Of course we do. After all, you’re not just any old warrior. If I were Theardar I’d be running already.”

“You do not understand. Theardar is a sixth-level mystic; I am but a four. It will be impossible for me to fight him on an equal ground. His powers far outweigh mine. This is not what concerns me, though. There is always a chink in an opponent’s armor, if you but seek it. Our other skills may be equally matched. Know I do not hesitate to face him, regardless of the outcome. I am concerned about you.”

“Me? Whatever for? I don’t even know Theardar—why would he seek to harm me?”

Lorgin did not answer right away. He thought it best she not know of the Shimalee connection for fear it would influence her actions in some unforeseen negative way. So instead he replied, “He would seek to hurt me through you.” That much was true, he lamented.

Suddenly she was frightened. So far all of this had been one great lark to her. Oh sure, she felt for these people, was concerned about Lorgin’s quest, Traed’s problems, and Rejar’s worries,
but as an observer.
Since she never intended to stay, she never felt totally involved. After all, these weren’t her worlds; this wasn’t her fight. The whole episode took on the trappings of an adventure to her. One she would remember over the years as an amazing portion of her life. Now Lorgin was telling her she could be hurt, perhaps killed. She was involved in the deepest sense.

“I’m scared, Lorgin.”

One hand cupped her face. “No. No, you must not be. I
will
protect you.”

“At the cost of your own life?” she asked, horrified.

“If I must.” He smiled poignantly then. “I once told you,
long ago, when we first met, that I was Chi’in tse Leau. Nothing has changed to alter that. I will always walk beside you, protect you…
love you.
”

Deana started crying. She couldn’t help it.

Lorgin gently scooped her up in his arms, carrying her upstairs. He tenderly undressed her, laying her down on their bed as if she were the most precious thing in the universe to him.

And indeed she was.

That night he whispered wonderful things to her, pretty things—things to make her tears stop, things to make her clutch him to her, things to alleviate her fear.

But the most amazing revelation to him that night, the most incredible discovery he made, was that she had not known he loved her, loved her from almost the moment he had met her—the moment he had looked down into that sweetly engaging face of hers, which in turn looked up at him alight with mischievous wonder. She never said anything out loud to him about her shock at his declaration, but he had seen her face well when he had spoken the words.

An Aviaran man did not speak often of his love, did not think it necessary. His actions, he believed, spoke for him. When he took the Right and entered into the Oath, he was, in effect saying:
I forsake all others for you.
What could be plainer? Yet this woman knew not their ways. Knew not his heart.

So he told her of his love over and over, reenforcing his declaration with hushed kisses and tender caresses. He made love to her knowing it was very possibly the last time, for he did not expect to survive the upcoming confrontation.

And he was eternally grateful that on this eve, possibly their last, he had seen the need to put into words what was so obvious to him.

This time, when they reached the culmination of their tender, bittersweet lovemaking, Lorgin felt compelled to reaffirm his vows. His hushed words echoed in the silent room, a counterpart to his being.