Lady of Light and Shadows (34 page)

Lauriana drew back in genuine surprise. "No!" Her brows lowered to a scowl. "Though I probably should have, come to think of it.”

Though Ellysetta was far from accomplished with her Fey gifts, she couldn't detect any hint of a lie. Her mother was very nervous and tense-which made perfect sense, considering her intense dislike and suspicion of the Fey-but she hadn't been behind Gaelen's arrest.

Ellysetta exhaled a relieved breath. "Thank you for coming, Mama," she said. "I know it wasn't an easy decision for you, and I love you for caring enough to be here, despite your reservations." She wished she could weave time like the Fey wove the elements and erase the harsh words she and her mother had exchanged this morning. "You've always been my beacon. It wouldn't have felt right to receive the Bride's Blessing without you by my side.”

Tears filled her mother's eyes, but when Ellysetta stepped forward, intending to embrace her, Lauriana turned away and choked out, "Please, Greatfather, let's get started.”

Ellysetta's arms fell to her sides. The rejection hurt almost as badly as Rain's abandonment last night. But Mama was here, she reminded herself. Despite her doubts and obvious fears, Mama had come to stand at Ellysetta's side. Rain, wherever he was, hadn't even offered that much.

Rain woke to the astonishing sensation of velvety horse lips moving over his face, and the loud sound of equine teeth munching in his ear. He peeled open one eye and stared into a horse's large, thickly lashed brown eye.

Above him, a dazzling bright blue sky stretched out. Below him was the soft, musty prickle of-he pulled a handful of the stuff up and stared at it-hay. He was lying in a haystack. In the middle of some farmer's field. With a big, heavyset shire-horse nibbling haystraw from his face and hair and munching loudly in his ear.

He shoved himself off the haystack, away from the horse's hungry, grazing mouth, and staggered to his feet. Gods, he hurt. Every muscle, joint, and sinew ached from the bitter, arduous bells he'd spent battering himself against last night's fierce, unnatural winds.

Sybharukai, bless her for the wicked tairen she was, had known exactly how to punish him for his stupidity while leading him roaring and fighting from rage back to reason. She'd beaten the fury out of him, shoved bilious truth down his throat until he gagged on it, then left him exhausted and filled with the bitter taste of humiliation, to make the final choice on his own.

Now, in the bright light of day, as he stood in the quiet peace of a farmer's field with Eld behind him and hope beckoning from Celieria City far to the south, he knew, with a certainty of purpose he'd long been lacking, that his choice was the right one.

For every great gift the gods demand a great price. Rain should have known the gods wouldn't grant him the stunning, unexpected miracle of a truemate without demanding something in return. Even Marissya had warned him of it on that very first night after he'd claimed Ellysetta. You cannot shirk your duty, not to the tairen, not to the Fey, and definitely not to your truemate. Because, Rain, one other thing seems certain ... whatever task the gods have set before Ellysetta Baristani, it is fearfully dangerous. Else she'd not need a tairen to protect her soul.

What could be more dangerous to her than bearing the taint of the High Mage himself? Yet just as Ellysetta had flinched from her first encounter with the tairen, Rain had flinched from his first true test of courage as well. Worse, he'd fled and left her thinking she repulsed him.

She was not to blame for who her father might be, nor for any cursed Mage Mark set upon her in infancy. And Rain's first duty was not to the world, or the Fey, or even the tairen. His first duty was to her.

Gathering his strength, he spun a swift query on a weave of Spirit and sent it arrowing south towards Celieria. The answer that returned several chimes later came from a young Spirit master Rain did not know well.

«The Feyreisa is at the cathedral. The twenty-five-fold weaves have gone up. Marissya and Dax are with the mortals in the Council. Those weaves have gone up as well. Marissya said if you contacted us, we should tell you to hurry.”

“I come,” Rain returned with grim curtness. The weave dissolved as soon as the last crisp word was sent. His hands clenched into fists.

Ellysetta was safe, secured behind a powerful weave and protected by more than one hundred of the Fading Lands' strongest warriors. The Council, however, was another matter.

He'd promised her he would not let Celieria fall to the Eld. After his terrible betrayal last night, he was determined not to fail her again.

He had to get back to Celieria City. Now. Without delay.

Rain bent his knees and sprang into the sky. A frenetic cloud of gray mist and magic swirled around him. The familiar exultation of the Change shattered his senses, unmaking Rain, the Fey, scattering him to the clouds, then gathering him back up again as Rain, the Tairen Soul. Below him, the startled farmer in whose field he'd slept looked up from his plow, and in a small fenced pasture near his fields, a herd of cattle scattered in instinctive fear of the predator overhead.

Rain circled the farm and the penned cattle. The Great Sun was already nearing its zenith, and he was still hundreds of miles away from Celieria City. He would need to fly as fast as he could to get there in time.

He swooped down on the cattle pen once, twice, three times, thinning the small herd until his tairen belly was full, and then he swooped a fourth and final time over the haystack where he'd slept. Earth magic spun out, reaching deep into the rock below the field, finding what he needed and spinning it into his gift.

«The Tairen Soul thanks you, Goodman,»
he called out to the farmer.
«I offer payment for your cattle and Fey blessings on your house.
»

Ropes of Air spun out behind him, generating a powerful tailwind that sent him racing across the Celierian skies at three times his normal speed. He swept through misty clouds like a gale, leaving them swirling madly in his wake.

Behind, in the field he'd just left, the farmer and his family laughed and danced around a haystack with exuberant delight and threw fistfuls of haystraw into the air. Haystraw Rain had just transformed into purest, gleaming gold.

Following opening remarks given by Lords Sebourne and Teleos and half a bell of ineffectual salvos fired by half a dozen lesser lords, Lord Morvel, one of Celieria's twenty Great Lords, took the floor to address the Council. He began by reminding his peers of his initial, magnanimous gesture of goodwill and acceptance towards the Fey-and the reason for his subsequent change of heart. Then he proceeded to expound upon the many economic benefits of demilitarizing the northern borders and expanding Celierian trade.

From her silver throne, Annoura listened to Morvel's bombastic posturing with half an ear and kept a surreptitious eye on the door to the chamber, watching for any sign that Gaelen vel Serranis's capture had been accomplished.

"The borders have been all but silent for the last hundred years," Lord Morvel concluded, his voice carrying easily across the length of the marbled chamber. "The Eld have extended the hand of friendship. Celieria must not cling to the narrow-minded exclusionism fostered by the fear mongering of the Fey and a few misguided Celierian lords.”

A murmur of agreement rose up from several quarters of the room. "Really, Morvel?" Lord Barrial stood up in dissent. "The borders have been silent for a hundred years? Life must be quite idyllic over there in the east. Remind me to visit you when next I go on holiday." Several lords laughed. Lord Barrial waited for them to quiet, then continued in a more serious vein. "Unlike my very fortunate friend Lord Morvel, in my lands we still see regular raids from the north. The Eld I know are not kindly guardians of Light, but fierce and deadly enemies. Even with constant patrols and the help of the
dahl'reisen, I
lost more than thirty villagers last year along the Heras River-men, women, even children.”

"Grim news indeed, Lord Barrial," Queen Annoura interrupted. "But how can you be certain the raiders are Eld? Witnesses from other estates say
dahl'reisen
are to blame.”

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I doubt
dahl'reisen
are behind the raids on my lands," he replied. "Gaelen vel Serranis himself made it very clear not two months past that he could have walked past my safeguards and murdered me or any member of my family at any time of his choosing. And he has not done so.”

"Ah, yes," she murmured. "Gaelen vel Serranis, the Dark Lord. The same Fey who once thrust this country into a cataclysmic war that nearly destroyed the world. You would have this Council believe he is some tragic, noble guardian of the north, when all evidence speaks to the contrary. I have to wonder, Lord Barrial, if your blind faith in this Fey-who by all accounts is a murderous war criminal-has anything to do with the fact that you're his kinsman?”

The news brought the lords of the Council to their feet, voices raised in outrage.

King Dorian lifted the Bell of Order from its velvet cushion and rang it forcefully. Lord Corrias snapped to attention beside the king's throne. "Silence!" he called. "By the king's command, there will be silence in the chamber.”

"Lord Barrial," Dorian commanded when the lords quieted, "please explain to the Council, as you have already explained to me, the exact nature of your kinship to Gaelen vel Serranis-a man who, I might add, is also my kinsman." He shot a look at Annoura, who arched a brow without remorse.

Lord Barrial bowed. "Thank you, sire." Turning back to address the Council at large, he said, "Her Majesty is correct. It appears Gaelen vel Serranis is indeed my kinsman. Though like our king, I am not his direct descendant. I recently discovered that a man the family archives record as Jerion Dural-whose grandson Pollis became the diBarrial from which my line descended six hundred fifty years ago-was in fact Dural vel Serranis, cousin to Lady Marissya and Gaelen vel Serranis.”

Annoura listened with only half an ear. A young clerk serving as a runner to the Council was hurrying along the perimeter of the chamber, clutching a small sealed envelope. She watched his progress from the corner of her eye. The note passed from the clerk's hands to her Master of Affairs.

"When did you learn that your ancestor was Dural vel Serranis?" Dorian prompted.

"Just a few days ago, sire.”

Lord Sebourne leapt to his feet. "Was that before or after the Fey tried to steal my son's wife, Barrial? What have you agreed to?”

"Leave my daughter out of this," Cann shot back, "and don't you dare impugn my honor or my loyalty”

"You've done that yourself! From the beginning, you've supported Fey interests over those of Celieria. What have they bribed you with? Eternal life?”

"Must a border lord of Celieria now be bribed to defend the march? I do my duty, Sebourne! What of you and your cronies? Or has the glint of Eld gold erased all hope of reason?”

Sebourne's supporters
once
more leapt into the fray, pointing fingers and hurling accusations. Teleos and half a dozen others jumped up to rally round Cann.

Annoura's Master of Affairs handed her the clerk's note. She cracked the seal and glanced at the three simple words scrawled on the parchment:
We have him.

She glanced back at Vale, whom she'd invited to serve in place of one of her regular attendants, who'd fallen ill. He was watching her, his vivid eyes intense. He gave a faint nod.

The bell rang again. "Silence and be ordered!" This time Dorian barked the command himself. "Lords, take your seats and be silent!" When the nobles subsided into grumbling compliance, Dorian turned back to Cann. "Lord Barrial, where does your allegiance lie?”

Cann stiffened his spine. "Where it always has. With you, sire, and with Celieria.”

"Have you now or ever accepted any form of payment or reciprocity from either
dahl'reisen
or Fey in return for political favors?”

"Absolutely not.”

"Have you now or ever put Fey or
dahl'reisen
interests above those of Celieria?”

"Never, my liege. I am, first and foremost, a Lord of Celieria.”

"Lord Sebourne, since you leveled the accusation, I will ask you directly: Do you have any evidence to prove Lord Barrial is in the service of the
dahl'reisen
or the Fey?”

Scowling, Sebourne muttered, "No, sire.”

"Then the only thing the revelation of Lord Barrial's ancestry proves is that he and I are distant cousins. I will hear no further accusations against him without evidence. Not even by intimation." Dorian's gaze came to rest on Annoura.

She arched a brow. "Then perhaps we would be best served directing our questions to Gaelen vel Serranis, himself." She turned cold eyes on Marissya v'En Solande. "Since my guard just arrested him here in the city, in the company of Ellysetta Baristani and the Fey”

The Council Chamber erupted.

A trio of white-robed acolytes emerged from the cleric-hall as Ellysetta rose from the cushioned bench before the altar of Adelis. The young boys filed up a small, spiraling stone staircase to a tulip-shaped balcony overlooking the luminary and began to sing.

Their voices rose up like silvery beams, carrying freely through the cathedral's vaulted nave, enhanced and amplified by its carefully engineered acoustics.

"Stand, Ellysetta Baristani," Greatfather Tivrest said, "and follow me to the luminary to offer Adelis your final devotions before the Bright Bell.”

Gathering the folds of her linen skirts, she rose and circled round the altar rail to join the archbishop. As her fingers slid into his, she opened her senses and deliberately allowed his thoughts to flood into her. She even, gods forgive her, dared to skim his mind.

A barrage of focused, determined thoughts greeted her probing.
Shine your radiance upon her, oh, Lord. Banish the darkness from her soul. Guide her in the Bright Path and help her stand fast against the shadows. Shine your radiance upon her, oh, Lord.
Over and over the thoughts were repeated, and the only image in the archbishop's mind was of a bright, blinding light.

What she'd been expecting, Ellysetta really couldn't say, but she couldn't find anything dangerous or threatening in his dedication to saving her soul.

He led the way to the round, raised platform of the luminary and escorted her up the thirteen steps to stand on the large engraved golden medallion at the luminary's center, directly below the cathedral's great golden dome and the spire that housed the statue of Adelis. "Look up, daughter," he said, "and let the glory of the Bright Lord illuminate your path.”