Zandru's Forge (48 page)

In moments of refuge behind the telepathic damper at his door, he both grieved and exulted in Carolin’s exile. With Rakhal firmly upon the throne and growing more ruthless every day, Carolin’s chances of survival diminished. Eventually, Lyondri’s assassins, the cruel weather of the Kadarin bad-lands, or some fool desperate for the bounty would put an end to him.

Sometimes when Eduin thought of Carolin lying in a pool of his own blood or starved and frozen, battered by the elements, a shiver of almost physical pain would pass through him. Then his stomach would clench around a knot of ice. In its spreading chill, all anguished thoughts, all memories of friendship would fall away. Was this the price of the Deslucido Gift, or something deeper and more sinister?

In the name of Aldones and all the gods, what had been done to him?

On Midwinter Festival Night, Eduin allowed Dyannis to lure him into her bed once more. At first, he had every intention of maintaining his distance from her. She knew entirely too many people, and never gave a thought to what she said. He could not afford to raise any suspicions. He told himself it was over between them, and at the time, he meant it. His life was not his own, nor had it ever been. He’d been a fool to hope otherwise.

He stood at the threshold of her chamber and felt the
kireseth
singing like poison in his veins. Dyannis stepped past him to throw back the curtains. It was a clear night, and the multihued radiance of three moons suffused the room. He felt as if he stood on the edge of some enchanted world, a place of pearly light and magic. Not even the faint orange glow from the banked fire dispelled the illusion.

Dyannis turned to face him, her eyes gleaming silver. With a slow, liquid movement, she reached up to free the clasp that held her hair coiled at the nape of her neck. It came loose in a cascade of red-gold silk. She looked so beautiful, he wondered if she had cast a glamour over him. His heart beat like a wild thing as she came toward him. Her lips parted in a smile and her fingers on his face were warm.

“My love,” she whispered. Something in the night, the singing and the ritual, or perhaps it was only the effect of the drug, gave her words a curious echo. Each syllable rippled through his body. Spheres of color and heat sprang into life. An intoxicating fragrance arose from her skin.

She covered his face in kisses. “My first love. How I’ve missed you.”

Hearing those words, something gave way inside him. It was as if she had opened up a secret door to his heart. She pressed herself against him, so that the boundaries of their separate bodies began to dissolve, even as their minds joined. The curves and sweet warm valleys of her body welcomed him like the home he’d never known.

Eduin woke near dawn with nausea trembling through him. He crawled to his own rooms, where he lay on top of his solitary bed, retching. He’d always had a sensitive stomach for
kireseth
and its distillations. This reaction went beyond the merely physical. He was disgusted with himself for having given in to the temptations of the moment. He should never have allowed himself—he should have made her go away forever. He had not been able to bring himself to do it. Now, no matter where he went, no matter what he did, she would be part of him. It was crazy, he knew, but he could feel the lingering warmth of her loving like a snake coiled around his heart.

He sat up, raking his hair back from his forehead. Emotions roiled and clashed within him like storm clouds above the Hellers. Surely his very soul would tear apart under the strain. He could not go on.

Aldones, help me!
Over and over, he prayed for a way through the tangle.

There was no hope for it. If the Lord of Light would not take this love from his heart, then Zandru, Lord of the frozen hells, must be his master.

As if in response, a chill rippled through his body, seeping into his core. His heartbeat steadied.

My
heart
to ice
...

He repeated the words in his mind like a sacred chant. Already, the sensation of cold was fading. He thought of the monks at Nevarsin and how they took no heed of weather or temperature, looking only to their inner life.

And so, too, must he hold fast to his purpose.

Winter dug its claws into Hali. There were fewer executions, as if no one had the heart to fight both cold and Lyondri’s men. Daily living was difficult enough. For a tenday at a time, snow so blanketed the city that trade slowed to a bare minimum. The Tower drew into itself.

The bad weather was not without its blessings, for Eduin rarely saw Dyannis. They were both working long shifts in the circles, charging the great
laran
batteries that supplied heat as well as light to the castle. Rakhal had increased his demands and now frequently traveled by aircar over his new kingdom. When Eduin encountered Dyannis, whether passing in a corridor or across the dining area, they spoke only a few words. Intense matrix work depleted sexual energies for both men and women.

Spring crept into Hali like a thief, its presence barely noticed. Dyannis was called back home on some family business or other; Eduin didn’t inquire. He was both dismayed and elated when she sought him out on the eve of her departure.

“When you first came to Hali, I wondered if we would be as we were,” she said, with a shy lilt to her words that meant,
when we were first in love.
“I did not know if I hoped or feared it more. Not all the smiths in Zandru’s forge can put that chick back into its egg, so they say. Not even for you,” she spoke the word with a tenderness that sent a familiar fluttering through his breast, “could I return to the young girl I was then. But when I was with you, I wished it were possible.”

“Exactly,” she said.

“But—Midwinter Festival Night—”

Dyannis tossed her head, and in his memory, Eduin heard the little tinkling bells she had worn at the Hastur court ball when he had first held her in his arms. “One last perfect evening. For remembrance, if you will. Before we each go on to the lives the gods have chosen for us.” She drew so near that he inhaled the fragrance of her hair, washed with some herbs that left it smelling of sunlight. Rising on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips, butterfly-soft, against his.

“I believe you will do great things. When I hear men sing of them, I will remember that night.”

She left him then without a backward glance. The moment he had waited for had come, she was gone, and instead of relief, he writhed inside with longing to call her back. If she had begged and pleaded for a pledge of everlasting love, then he would have had little difficulty pushing her from his mind. Against this dignity, this simple faith, he had no defense.

Summer settled like a golden haze over the city of Hali. The cloud-lake glimmered in the sunshine, its waters in constant motion. On the long twilit evenings, Eduin walked in solitude along the sandy banks. He found a curious comfort in the restlessness of the mists.

I am like the lake
, he thought.
Always changing on the outside to hide what lies beneath.

On one such outing, when his thoughts were particularly somber, he returned to be summoned to the chambers of the Keeper, Dougal DiAsturian. A number of the circle’s
leronyn
already sat, waiting.

“Ah, Eduin, thank you for coming,” Dougal said, gesturing for Eduin to take his place.

Eduin sat, feeling the shift of emotional currents in the room. Had something happened beyond Rakhal’s astonishing overthrow?

“Dark times are upon us all,” Dougal said aloud. “Although it is our wish to remain at peace with all men, we may not have that choice. We here at Hali and our colleagues at Tramontana are bound to allegiance to the Hastur King.”

“That is true,” Marelie, the middle-aged woman who often worked the relays, pointed out. “But which one? Rakhal sits upon the throne, right enough, yet many loyal men believe it should be Carolin.”

“That was what everyone thought, before this terrible business,” one of the
leronyn
said, shaking his head. “Rakhal had the blessings of the Regents. They claimed to have evidence of Carolin’s perfidy and unfitness for office, but it was never made public.”

“The issue of succession is not ours to decide,” Dougal brought the discussion to a halt in a voice ringing with authority. “If-Rakhal or any other crowned King commands us, then we must obey. It goes without saying that one use he has for our talents is the pursuit and capture of the exiled King CarOlin.”

Several of the workers shifted uneasily in their seats.

“Exactly,” Dougal said, responding to the flare of emotion. “Several of the
leronyn
at Tramontana, who are kin to both Rakhal and Carolin, have asked that they not be ordered to make war upon their families. King Rakhal has agreed to release them, provided they also swear that they will not participate in any attack against him. I am empowered to offer all at Hali the same agreement.”

Eduin remembered that Maura Elhalyn, who had known both Rakhal and Carolin from childhood, now served at Tramontana Tower, as well as Liriel Hastur.

“Why should Rakhal agree to such a thing?” Marelie asked.

“Because he is not an utter fool,” Eduin burst out heatedly. “He knows that to compel any of us to act against blood ties and conscience is to court rebellion. That he cannot risk, or he will find himself without a single Tower to call upon.”

Several of the others looked at him with shocked expressions, but the Keeper nodded. They both knew that only within the confines of the Tower was such speech safe.

One of the women said, “I cannot claim any such allegiance to Prince Carolin, but I despise being drawn into a feud of brother against brother.”

“Aye, for is it not said that when kinsmen quarrel, enemies will quickly step in?” another commented.

Eduin nodded, remembering the discussion he had had with Varzil about the rulership of the Towers. How long ago that seemed, when they were all at Hastur Castle for Midwinter Festival! He had been so young, so naive. All the passion he’d felt had drained from the memory. What did it matter who gave the orders, whether the Towers governed themselves or followed the commands of some ignorant lordling?

Ice shivered through his belly. Let king and Tower go their ways, let them all destroy one another. Only one thing mattered, and if remaining loyal to Rakhal would help him achieve that goal, he would do whatever was necessary.

“Is it sure that we will be asked to make
clingfire
and lung-rot plague spores for Rakhal?” Marelie asked. “I would much rather use my skills for healing than killing.”

“I will do what I can to assign you to those tasks,” Dougal said, “though I fear we may have no choice. And you, Eduin, what is your position? I know that Carolin Hastur studied at Arilinn during your time there, and I believed you to be close friends.”