Lady of Light and Shadows (11 page)

Gaelen had used Azrahn to call Palwyn's soul from the dead, questioned him, then cremated his body so no other could do the same. Though the Fey had eradicated Palwyn's memories, his soul still remembered his subsequent brutal questioning at the hands of the Eld, and Gaelen had drawn those intact memories from him.

The High Mage of Eld had a daughter.

A red-haired, green-eyed daughter like the Celierian girl who'd called Rain Tairen Soul from the sky, lost in the woods of Norban more than two decades earlier.

When he'd first learned of the Tairen Soul's truemate, Gaelen had envied Rainier vel'En Daris the gods' apparent forgiveness, but now he realized the gods had forgiven vel'En Daris nothing. They'd only devised a new, more grievous torture for him-and a new, more deadly threat for the Fey.

Gaelen touched the two
sorreisu kiyr
that had belonged to the Fey warriors Sian vel Sendaris and Torel vel Carlian. He drew the names from the crystals, then traced a sign in the air over them, an ancient warrior's symbol to wish the dead Fey's souls speedy passage into a peaceful next life.

He had not known the two Fey, but he would have saved them if he
could. He'd
been too late, though. Again.
He'd seen
the last one fall, bravely and with honor as a Fey warrior should. Gaelen had slain the remaining handful of their attackers, including the apprentice Mage, but he'd taken numerous barbed
sel'dor
arrows in the process and three of the Eld had laid his flesh open with their swords before he'd managed to strike them down.

Despite the pain it caused him to call Fire with
sel'dor
piercing his flesh, he'd cremated the Fey warriors' bodies. He hadn't attempted to call their souls from the dead to learn what they'd reported to the Fey, though he could have woven Azrahn with minimal pain despite being
sel'dor
pierced. It would have surprised most Fey, including all but a handful of
dahl'reisen,
to witness his restraint. Even now there were still a few crimes the Dark Lord would not commit. Calling a Fey soul back from the dead was one of those.

The Eld he'd burned without soul-summoning as well, because their souls were already bound to their master and calling them would have alerted the High Mage to Gaelen's presence. Not a wise course of action when he was
sel'dor
pierced and bleeding his remaining strength into the dust at a fairly alarming rate.

He'd stumbled his way deeper into the forest until he found the
rultshart's
den. He'd burned out the den's inhabitants and dragged himself into the small, dank shelter before losing consciousness.

So here he was, wounded, weak, and lying in the foul stench of a
rultshart's
lair as he tried to summon the energy necessary to save himself. Part of him wanted to just close his eyes and bleed his life out. But another, stronger part of him fought the urge with a tairen's fierceness, all fang and claw and wild instinct to survive. That was the part that had kept him alive even after a thousand years as a
dahl'reisen,
banished forever from the beauty of the Fading Lands and the warmth of the Fey.

Why he'd been driven to cling to his miserable life so long, he did not know, but now, at last, he had again a clear and driving purpose.

The High Mage had a daughter.

Soon she would wed Rain Tairen Soul and the Fey would escort her back to the Fading Lands. Like the ancient legend of the great, cursed treasure that bore pestilence within its golden chalices, by bringing the High Mage's daughter safely through the Mists, the Fey would escort their own destruction into the Fading Lands. She would doom them all, including Gaelen's only remaining sister, Marissya. He couldn't allow that to happen.

The High Mage's daughter must die.

Slowly, in a process made awkward by the slipperiness of his blood and his own lack of strength, he worked his way free of his weapons and his black leather tunic. The wounds filled with
sel'dor
shrapnel weren't bleeding-the cursed Eld metal drank blood like parched ground drank water-but the long, bone-deep gash on his thigh and the two wounds where Eld blades had skewered him had soaked the bandages he'd applied last night and were once more bleeding quite profusely. He didn't have the strength to remove the
sel'dor,
but he couldn't let himself continue to bleed.

Gaelen pulled a black-handled Fey'cha from his belt and called a trickle of Fire to heat the blade until it glowed.
Sel'dor
twisted even that weak weave into agony. Gritting his teeth, he pressed the fiery blade against the worst of his wounds and fought back a wave of nausea as the smell of his own burning flesh reached his nostrils. He managed to reheat the blade and cauterize two other wounds before losing consciousness yet again.

Vadim Maur stared hard at his apprentice. A small tic worked at the lower corner of his right eye, the only visible sign of his anger.
Well, that,
Kolis thought,
and the thirty-degree drop in temperature in his office chamber.
He wasn't about to ask about the angry red burn marks scoring the left side of the High Mage's pallid, cadaverous face. No doubt one of his many experiments had gone badly, but Kolis wasn't fool enough to remark upon it.

"She is a master of Spirit?" Vadim asked, his voice a chilling hiss.

"Without a doubt, master. Last night, she spun a Spirit weave that completely controlled over two hundred minds-Fey included-for over
seven
bells. None of them was aware of what she was doing until it was too late. She wasn't even consciously weaving. I've never seen the like. I was there in the body of my
umagi
Jiarine Montevero, and she has enough hearth witch in her that I could see the flows. They came from Ellysetta Baristani.”

"And
your
mind, Kolis? As you were close enough to see this
weave,
did it control your mind too?”

Kolis flushed and dropped his gaze. "I am ashamed to admit it did, High One. Even knowing it was a weave, I could not deny its dictates.”

Silence fell. The room temperature plunged again, and frost crackled on every surface. "So, she's a master of Spirit as well as Fire...”

Kolis's eyes widened as Vadim Maur's hand twitched towards the scorch marks on his face. Ellysetta Baristani had done that? Dark Lord's Scythe! How was it possible?

The High Mage's silver eyes began to darken with spinning clouds of black and red. "Not at all the ungifted wretch my pets have long tried to convince me she was.”

Even knowing that his master's anger was not directed at him, Kolis felt the chill of it ice his veins. The captives would regret their duplicity. The walls of Boura Fell would soon echo with their screams. Despite himself, the Sulimage could almost feel pity for them.

"You will bring Ellysetta Baristani to me.” The wintry command snapped Kolis back to attention.

"I anticipated your request, master." In a quick rush of words, he explained about the gift he had prepared for Ellysetta Baristani. "I've already arranged for its delivery, and ensured there will be no way to trace the gift back to either my
umagi
or myself.”

The High Mage tapped a contemplative finger against his lips, and the room began to warm as the worst of his anger passed. "The idea has merit, but you lose much control once the package leaves your possession. What is your alternate plan in case this one fails?”

Kolis swallowed and cautiously admitted, "I haven't fully prepared it yet.”

"The key to success, Kolis, is planning for failure.”

"I know, master, and I have arranged for my newest
umagi
to serve as the Baristani girl's Honoria, in the hope that she could be of greater service to me. I thought perhaps an abduction at the wedding, should the gift not work as intended.”

The High Mage shook his head. "The Tairen Soul will be there. It is too great a risk.”

"Yes, Great One, but it seemed the best option. I considered having my
umagi
open a portal during the Bride's Blessing, when they are sequestered in the cathedral's Solarus for the purification, but she would be outnumbered and unlikely to succeed." The only people permitted to accompany a bride into the Solarus during the Bride's Blessing were the priest, the bride's mother, and the Honoria-and neither Lauriana Baristani nor Greatfather Tivrest were Mage-claimed. For all his posturing and arrogance, the archbishop was a man of deep faith, and he had staunchly resisted every one of Kolis's attempts to turn him.

"I'm pleased you considered an attack during the Bride's Blessing; it was my first thought as well. The isolation makes for a perfect opportunity." Master Maur smoothed the silk-lined velvet cuff of his purple Mage robes. "And though you would be correct about the unlikelihood of your
umagi's
success, assuming she was our only agent in the Solarus, I've already considered that problem and devised what I believe is a very workable solution." One silvery brow lifted. "Did you know that Ellysetta Baristani was once under the care of the Church exorcists?”

"No, master, I didn't know that.”

"Mmm, well, she was. I received word just a few chimes ago from Primage Keldo. His
umagi
in Hartslea discovered it." The High Mage sat back in his chair and steepled his hands beneath his chin. "Apparently, young Ellysetta suffered regularly from violent `seizures' in her childhood. The Church determined she was demon possessed and convinced her parents to approve an exorcism. According to Keldo's
umagi,
the girl's father had a change of heart before the exorcism could be completed, and the family fled Hartslea rather than give her up to the priests.”

"That's very interesting, master." Kolis tried to infuse a tone of appreciation in his voice, even though he didn't see how the information helped them. "The mother is still quite devout and openly hostile to the Fey. I've been playing on her fears, hoping to use her to separate the girl from her guards, but so far she has steadfastly refused my bait.”

"Your man in the north, the priest, he is an exorcist, is he not?”

"Nivane? He is. It was how I first Marked him." Like many of his northern-bred brothers, the young priest had been born with a remnant gift for weaving Azrahn, and when he'd unwittingly woven it while attempting to exorcise one of Kolis's
umagi,
he'd granted Kolis a foothold in his soul.

"Parts of the Grand Cathedral are extremely ancient," Vadim Maur continued, "built in an age when Demon Princes were a considerable threat. The initial purpose of the Solarus was purification-but not for brides. It was a chamber used almost exclusively for exorcism.”

"I've never heard that before." Now the appreciation in his tone was genuine as Kolis's mind began to race with possibilities.

"The knowledge was lost long ago. I only discovered mention of it in an ancient Merellian text. As part of its initial purpose, the Solarus was built to withstand even five-fold weaves." The High Mage pressed his steepled fingers against his lips and smiled. "The entire room is a cage built to hold demon-possessed magical creatures. There is no better place in all the world to steal a Tairen Soul's mate."

"Greetings, My Lord Feyreisen, Lady Marissya, Lord Dax." Welcome shining in his green Fey-bright eyes, Great Lord Devron Teleos held out an arm and exchanged a warrior's handclasp with Rain and Dax as the Fey entered the spacious entry hall of his city residence shortly after sunset. The Celierian was paler than his pure mortal countrymen and darker than his Fey kin, his skin a golden ivory that glowed with Fey luminescence, his shoulder-length hair black as a raven's wing.

Rain murmured a greeting as he took quick stock of his surroundings. In a few swift glances, he noted the location of every entrance and exit, and the vast array of Fey, Elvish, Celierian, and Daneal weaponry on the walls. His gaze caught on one particular display: a full complement of Fey steel, gleaming with a mirror-bright polish no passage of time would ever dim.

"Ah, I thought you might find those of interest," Teleos said, nodding at the weapons. "They were Shanis's blades.”

"I recognized them." Rain had spent many a year fighting beside his old friend, watching him wield those blades with deadly efficiency. Etched with the symbols of the mighty v'En Celay line, the legendary Fey Lord Shanisorran v'En Celay himself had commissioned the steel as a warrior's gift to his namesake, Shanis Teleos, a descendant of his brother's line. "I am surprised to find them hanging on a wall in Celieria City. Fey steel was meant for war, not decoration.”

Teleos smiled, unoffended. "My father always considered Shanis's steel too valuable a family treasure to risk. He never used them, and a hundred years ago, when the Eld raids along the borders were getting worse, he had them moved here, to keep them safe.”

Conscious of the eyes and ears around them, Rain met Teleos's gaze and said on a thread of Spirit, «
When you come to train at the Warrior's Academy in Dharsa, bring them. Shanis's blades deserve the honor of battle.
»

Teleos bowed slightly and swept out an arm. "Please, come, all of you. Most of the others are already here." The Great Lord led the way into a large adjoining parlor where some two dozen of the nobles Rain had met the night before were waiting. "My Lord Feyreisen, these are some of my oldest friends and most trusted colleagues in the Council, families with whom the House Teleos shares a long history." Teleos gave a faint smile, green eyes bright with some secret satisfaction. "It is my pleasure to introduce you again to Great Lord Verakis and his wife, Lady Ceiliana. Great Lord Nin and his lovely new bride, Lady Aleen. Great Lord Darramon and his wife, Lady Basha, Lord and Lady Farm, Lord and Lady Barba.”

As Teleos led Rain around the room, introducing him to each of his guests, Rain began to understand the reason for that satisfaction in Teleos's gaze, and his appreciation for his new friend grew exponentially. He'd underestimated the man, thinking his Fey appearance would make the other nobles less likely to trust him. Instead, it was plain the Teleos family had carefully built and maintained a powerful network of allies within their homeland.

This small gathering of lords represented some of the most strategic estates in Celieria as well as half a dozen industries of key military importance: Great Lord Darramon, the fifth most powerful lord guarding the Eld border; Lord Fann, famous for his Swan's Bay shipyards; Lord Nin, a celebrated naval hero, whose mighty Queen's Point fortress guarded the mouth of Great Bay; Lord Clovis, a captain of industry, whose coal-andiron-rich lands supplied more than half of all Celieria's steel and iron; Great Lord Ash, a southern border lord whose handcrafted bows and superior bowmen rivaled even Elvish perfection. Teleos and his wise ancestors had established long-standing ties with all the powers necessary to build and equip an army for the defense of Celieria.

«An impressive network of friends.»
Rain commented.
«Shanis would be proud.»

Teleos smiled.
It was his idea. When the Faering Mists went up, he said one day Rain Tairen Soul would return and that when he did, House Teleos should be prepared to aid him.”

«Shanis arranged this?»
Rain's gaze swept the room again at the network of Teleos's allies, and he realized he was looking at a gift from a long-dead friend.

Teleos met Rain's gaze, his Fey eyes steady.
«Tairen defend the pride.»

The familiar Fey maxim had been Shanis's favorite. Sudden emotion surged, and a muscle worked in Rain's jaw. «
They do indeed, my brother.»
He took a deep breath and donned the familiar mask of stoic Fey calm as he turned to meet the guarded, suspicious gaze of the nobleman standing nearby. "Lord Darramon, a pleasure to meet you again”

The Great Lord arched a dark brow "Is it?" The man's gray eyes grew flinty. "I'm here purely as a favor to Teleos. If not for our long-standing friendship, I wouldn't have come. The Lords of Celieria are not toys for your amusement, My Lord Feyreisen. Either you honor our right to free will, or the Eld won't be your only enemies on this continent.”

Rain bowed. "I apologize for what happened last night, Lord Darramon. I can assure you it was a complete accident." He kept his gaze focused on Darramon, though he could feel the scrutiny of the other lords and ladies and knew they were listening intently to the exchange. "When a Fey discovers his truemate, as I have done, his emotions-and his magic-are not as settled as they usually are. It is a hard thing for a Fey to admit his discipline is not as strong as it should be, but there you have it.”

Darramon gave a short laugh. "So you apologize and expect all to be forgiven?”

"Not at all," Rain replied soberly. "I accept full responsibility for what happened, and I will accept any consequences of that responsibility. But do not, my lord, accuse me of intentionally spinning that weave to control Celierian minds. Using magic to usurp another being's free will is an Eld tactic, not a Fey one, and that's exactly the sort of abuse of power I'm here to caution you all against.”

Darrarnon's wife, a frail beauty with brilliant blue eyes and dark russet hair, put a hand on her husband's arm.

The Great Lord's eyes flickered towards her for a moment, and then he gave a curt nod. "I will hear what you have to say, My Lord Feyreisen. But what was done was done to my wife as well as me, and that trespass I find much harder to forgive. She has not been in the best of health.”

Instantly solicitous, Rain turned to Lady Darramon with sincere concern. "My lady, if you will permit, Lady Marissya would be honored to be of service to you. There are no better healers among the Fey.
Teska,
please. It is the least we can offer.”

Marissya stepped forward, scarlet silks rustling. "Indeed, my lady. If Lord Teleos would offer us a private chamber, I will attend you immediately.”

"Of course," Teleos said. He gestured to a nearby manservant. "Marton, please show the ladies to my mother's suite."

"Kasha-" Lord Darramon began.

"No. It's all right," Lady Darramon told him. "I have never doubted the Lady Marissya's goodwill, and I won't start now." The Great Lord's wife gave Marissya a wan smile. "I would appreciate whatever aid you can provide, my lady.”

Darrarnon watched his wife go with a troubled frown, but his expression hardened when he looked back at Rain. "Don't think this will make me listen with a more favorable ear.”

"My lord, I would not dream of it." Rain gave a final, precise bow. "An open mind is all I ask for”

Lord Darramon wasn't the only guest who responded coolly to Rain's overtures, but to his surprise, numerous couples welcomed him with warmth. That baffled him at first, but as the evening progressed and Rain watched those same couples exchanging long glances and subtle touches and smiles before dinner, he began to understand.

He glanced at Dax and saw the same amused realization in the Fey lord's eyes.
«Perhaps we're going about this the wrong way,»
Rain suggested. Despite the earlier tension with Lord Darramon, a thread of laughter tinged his weave.
«Maybe Rowan was right and we should be approaching all the elderly lords who might swap a vote in exchange for a bit more ... rejuvenation.»

Dax choked on his pinalle.

Swallowing a grin, Rain plucked a bite-sized morsel of roast quail in pastry from a passing tray and popped it in his mouth. If nothing else came of tonight's dinner, at least he could give Ellysetta the relief of knowing that not all Celieria's lords had found her weave an unwelcome enchantment.

Marissya and Basha Darramon returned before the guests were called to dinner. Darramon's wife, while still frail, had much better color, and she walked with a surer step.

«A malignancy,»
Marissya informed Rain and Dax as the guests followed Teleos into the dining room.
«She will require far more than a few brief chimes of healing. I soothed her fatigue and did what I could to help her body fight the advance of her disease, but unless she comes to the Fading Lands or half a dozen of our strongest healers go to her, she will be dead this time next year.»

«Well,»
Dax said.
«Cruel as it sounds, if we want his vote, that seems one sure way to get it.»

The
shei'dalin's
spine stiffened.
«Shei'tan, I know you cannot be suggesting we bribe him with his wife's life.
»

«Marissya, you accepted long ago that you can't heal every dying mortal. We're in a fight for our lives. If the promise of healing Lady Darramon helps secure Lord Darramon's vote, we would be fools not to consider it. Besides, if the Eld gain free access to Celieria, she's dead already-or worse, used as a tool to force her husband to comply with the Mages.

Rain gazed across the table at the tender concern and open love stamped on Lord Darramon's hard face as he bent his head to murmur something to his wife. What if Rain were in Lord Darramon's place and Ellysetta were the one dying? What wouldn't Rain do to secure her health? What wouldn't he give?

Tension coiled in his gut at the mere thought of it, and the tairen growled a fierce warning. Dax was right. The promise of healing Lady Basha would secure Lord Darramon's vote in an instant. A man who loved his wife as deeply as Darramon clearly loved Basha would never let something so trifling as the cast of a ballot stand in the way of her health.

A wily king would use that leverage to his own advantage.

After dinner, the guests retired to Teleos's conservatory. Servants bustled around offering tea, keflee, and a selection of flavorful liqueurs, and the discussion turned in earnest to the Eld Trade Agreement.

Great Lord Verakis, holder of a very large and strategic West Midlands estate, was a sober man, thoughtful, educated, and deliberate in his thinking. His lands lay directly in the path of the Garreval. If war came, the Eld would march through Verakis on their way to the Fading Lands, and luckily for Rain, the lord knew it. The calm, well-reasoned discussion provided the impetus Rain needed to draw even the more reticent lords into discourse.

"My lands are nowhere near the Garreval and of little strategic importance," objected Lord Dunn, a small central Celierian landholder.

"Perhaps not strategic by location, Lord Dunn," Rain corrected as he recalled the information Master Fellows had imparted to Ellysetta this afternoon about the House Dunn, "but even Eld armies need food. The quality and abundance of your crops make Dunn a ripe prize.”

"My lord, really," Lord Nevis Barlo objected. The man was another small landholder with estates located south of Celieria City. "You're talking as if Mage conquest is a certainty-when in fact no proof exists to support your claim.”

"I know the Mages, Lord Bade," Rain replied. "I am intimately familiar with what they will do for power. If the Mage Council has been reconstituted, have no doubt about it, conquest
is
a certainty. Perhaps not this year, perhaps not the next, but it will come. Mages are patient adversaries. They will wait until you grow complacent, and then they will strike.”

"My Lord Feyreisen." Lord Callumas Nin, the Great Lord and naval hero who held Queen's Point, cleared his throat. "All of us are here because we are willing to listen to what you say. But let us talk facts, not conjecture-no matter how well-founded you believe that conjecture might be. You want our votes to keep the Eld out of Celieria. The Eld want our votes to let them in. We know what the Eld are offering: gold, trade, an unlimited supply of
keio
to cure any future outbreaks of plague. What is it the Fey are offering?”

Rain nodded, pleased by the glimmer of progress-even though what mortals called diplomacy was just a polite term for bribery. "A good question, my lord. As your ancestors learned long ago, the Fey have much to offer, and our gifts come with none of the strings the Eld attach." He accepted a small goblet of pinalle from a passing servant and leaned forward. "We have warriors of a skill no mortal will ever match, my lord, swordsmasters to train your men and fight alongside them should the need arise. Healers to tend your sick." He met Lord Darramon's eyes. "Magic to help ward your holdings. Sails that amplify the wind to make ships move faster." He took a sip of his drink. "Does any of that interest you, my lord?”

Lord Fann, the shipbuilder, sat up a bit straighter. "Magic-enhanced sails?”

Lord Nin's response was more reserved but no less interested. "Tell us more.”

Rain signaled to Dax. The Fey lord launched into a detailed discussion of what the Fey and their magic could provide. As he spoke, Rain caught Lord Darramon's gaze and wove a private thread of Spirit between them.
«Your wife is dying. Without healing, Marissya says she will be gone this time next year.
»