A Noble Estate (12 page)

Rak raised his eyebrows. The flavor was bold, rich, complex and without the unpleasant aftertaste of fuel-oil roasting. It was, in short, the most perfect café he’d ever had. And from the expressions all around him, everyone else thought so, too.

“S’Rak, you’re supposed to be in bed,” Jisten said as he strode up. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I am not doing anything strenuous,” Rak replied. “Here, try this.” He handed Jisten the last remaining mug of café.

Jisten took the mug, swigged it and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Wow! That’s good café!”

“Dragon roasted, three breaths at normal spin,” Gamasyth announced. “We should try varying the number of breaths and the spin speed of the beans in the roaster.”

“We should also try adding cocoa beans to the mix,” Rak said. Once the workers finished gaping at him, they agreed.

After that, Jisten firmly steered Rak back into the manor. “Back to bed with you, my dear.”

* * * *

Tyll reached Summertown by midmorning of his second day of travel. He rode through the downright bucolic town to what looked like a sprawled-out clump of villas with an abnormal growth pattern. The summer palace was built with absolutely no plan or anything remotely resembling organization. Tyll had to admit it had a certain chaotic charm and really made him wonder what subtle influence the ruined chaos temple had over the minds of the Koilathan courtiers.

He stalled his mare in the visitor’s section and asked the nearest guard where the dark servants might be found.

The guard looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “There ain’t any dark ones here. They all went north to inspect the capt’n’s lands.”

“Ahh, I see. I had so hoped they’d wait for me,” Tyll sighed theatrically.

“Sorry, Bard Tafflynn. They left nigh on two weeks ago. Rumor had it that the crown was going to lay claim on the capt’n’s slave, so he spit and took the slave with him. The rest of the dark ones went, too, claiming they had to consult with their temple up north, but I think they really just wanted to stick with the capt’n and the prince. They know who their allies are.”

“That they do. They have to, don’t you agree? They’d not last long without political savvy.”

The guard looked around then lowered his voice. “Well, certainly not, especially not with their high priest collared. I’m glad the capt’n won him and all, cause the chancellor’s the worst of the worst sort, but nothing good comes of enslaving clergy. The gods take a dim view of that, for sure.” He leaned closer to Tyll’s ear and said, “The chancellor was furious at losing the high priest to the capt’n. He’s planning something; I don’t know what. I’ve been trying to find out, but he and his men—they’re gone. Claimed they was going to his estate for the summer. Like anyone believes that.”

Tyll handed the man a gold royal. “Thank you. If anyone asks, I was never here. I am heading north. I will warn your captain of Virien’s plans.”

“Thank you, sir.” The guard made the coin vanish then resumed staring straight ahead.

Tyll left the way he’d come, openly. But as he passed the gate guards, he was muttering about ingratitude and the gall of certain nobles to treat a bard so poorly. He went to the docks. Koilatha was truly a Riverlands kingdom, if the most isolated. There were rivers everywhere. Certainly, every town of any size was beside a river or a lake and had a dock. He found a river steamer, and an hour later, he had passage north to Riftinmoor.

* * * *

Raevel stepped through the portal and looked about alertly. The temple complex didn’t look much different from the others he’d seen. The air was a bit colder but a lot wetter. He could taste the water in the air with every breath. He tilted his head back and looked up over the wall of the complex. Mountains. Real mountains, tall and jagged, with green fuzzy feet, purple-blue slate bodies and smooth white heads.

“Is that snow?” Tarryn asked, and Rave glanced at his brother. Tarr was staring at the mountains, too, but his jaw looked ready to hit the ground.

“Yes, I think so,” Rave told him and returned his attention to the mountains. “This temple’s a new one, eh?”

“S’Chirind said we’d never been here before, not that it’s new.”

“New to us,” Rave amended, waving off the wisdom of their teacher. “Still, the temple looks like all the others. Scenery’s nicer.”

“Yeah,” Tarr said after a moment.

Raevel glanced over his shoulder at the other students. It looked like the whole class was on this side of the portal now. As if in answer to his thoughts, the portal wavered and then folded in on itself. He traced the energy flows with his eyes and senses and nodded to himself. He was pretty sure he could make a portal if he had to.

“Students,” called S’Chirind, “this way.” The Ekli priest led them toward the building to their left, the administration building, if this complex really did keep the layout of the rest. The students, including Raevel and Tarryn, followed obediently. They had to sit through the same lectures and warnings every time they were ported to a new temple to study the region. Very few temples existed outside of A’filozenoi, of course, but the dark servants didn’t discriminate against those outland temples—they were fair game for school sorties.

They would probably be let out after mass to pick medicinal herbs or look for rocks or fruit, or something equally boring. That was the usual pattern, and the dark servants had a saying—twice is habit, three times is tradition. And tradition often had the force of law, especially if it became a part of the
kanon
, the rules the priesthood must follow in addition to the three laws.

And so it proved to be. After mass, the class followed their teacher out the gates and into the wild, mountainous country of the Vales of Loftos. It was debatable as to whether the Vales were really a part of Loftos or not. The Loftons on their high mountain peaks disregarded the nomadic Valers who inhabited the land.

When the students fanned out in their search for herbs and edible foodstuffs, Raevel and Tarryn drifted south and west, away from the group. Nobody called them back—there were almost fifty young men and women hunting through the brush and none of them had any reason to stray. Except for Rave and Tarr, who had made their plans as soon as they’
d heard the Lofton temple was their destination. They were going to rescue their father, and nobody was going to stop them.

They had the basic survival kits of the brotherhood, plus slings, stones and swords. The swords had been the hardest to conceal. They’d taken a pair of Rak’s short swords, one for each of them, and hidden them in their pants, lashed to their thighs. Now, they wore them openly on their belts. By dawn, they were many stadia away from the temple and traveling easily. They spied a cave and quickly claimed it for their sleeping space for the day.

Raevel pulled a black book from his thin pack and leafed through it until he found the page he needed. He carefully chanted, focusing his power and his will. He’d not only inherited his mother’s mage talent, the power had come on him far earlier than the norm. As a result, he was already taking lessons in controlling and using the ability. He cast a spell to keep unwanted wildlife or searchers from finding them.

Dεktεra Atεlio, Aoranz Fεngari

10th day, 2nd week, Auranz’s moon

Erday, the 21st of Auranmon

Nearby, the priestess chanted, low and guttural. Not in Valer. Not in Koilathan. Not in Loftoni. She focused her malice on the subhuman slave and his weak, chaos-touched partner. The subhuman was a freak; she had witnessed this with her own eyes. It was unnatural for males to bear babies. That was a role reserved for women, for mothers. Her lip curled in hatred as she thought about the sex slave’s smug expression as the Valer used him. The freak would soon be put to the use of men far more worthy than the Valer simpleton.

* * * *

Rak dozed with Jisten spooned about him, the best position with Rak’s advanced pregnancy. He was tucked neatly against Jisten’s body and his upper wing was in easy reach of Jisten’s questing hand. He came fully awake with a gasp as his belly convulsed, the muscles slamming against the tightly and magically sealed opening.

Jisten startled awake as well. Black hair strewn over his face and shoulders, he looked around wildly.

Rak lay limp only a moment before another spasm sent him curling back, wings flaring.

“S’Rak! Is this it? Is the baby coming?” Jisten stroked tense wings to no avail.

Scorth, in draconic form outside, bellowed but his mind told Jisten,
Too early
.

“Send for S’Liast!” Jisten’s clear baritone rang through the manor’s halls.

Footsteps clattered through the hallways. Sura strode in, her face grave with concern.

Rak took one look at the dhelion and shrieked something incoherent, flinging a wave of black fire laced with green lightning at her.

“Shhh,” the dhelion said and consumed the lightning. “Not your enemy.”

Jisten stroked Rak’s hair. “She’s here to help.”

Rak blinked at her. He’d been sure she was a chaos priestess. But no, she was a dhelion. He could feel the sunset power. Another contraction left Rak breathless. “Too soon,” he gasped over a minute later.

“Your body fights itself, High Priest.” She laid a hand on Rak’s belly. “Conceived in chaos, was this babe, despite Si’Yeni’s heart adoption.” The dhelion stroked Rak’s belly, soothing away a contraction. “The baby may be damaged. Are you sure you wish to save it?”

“My baby,” snarled Rak. “Jisten’s baby.”

Jisten let out a breath and his shoulders slumped in relief.

“Truly a high priest of Zotien, who loves even the imperfect,” the dhelion said as apology.

Rak twined his fingers with Jisten’s then clutched as another contraction hit. “Sorry,” he whispered.

* * * *

Liast had been outside, learning about the harvesting of cocoa beans when the alarms had been raised. He’d hurried back to the manor as fast as he could. When he reached Rak and Jisten’s chambers, he went right in and stopped in surprise. The new dhelion, Sura, was there, and she seemed to be doing something to Rak. It didn’t feel quite right, but he sensed nothing overt.

He stepped closer, trying to edge between Sura and the bed. “Thank you, Priestess, I’ll take it from here.”

Sura turned, frowning at him. “He is in early labor.”

“I can fix that,” Liast said firmly. “S’Rak is my patient and I will do my duty for him. Please leave the room; you are no longer needed here.”

Sura pursed her lips and Liast could see the fury flashing in her eyes.

Sura shook her head and muttered, “Bad labor, hurt baby, hurt mind.” She turned and walked out without another word though, and Liast wanted to slump in relief.

A gasp from Rak caused him to turn to the Thezomeh and set his hands on the rippling belly. He concentrated, calling his power, and he flooded Rak with the soothing, healing fires of his calling. The contractions eased then stopped, and the pain etched in Rak’s features faded, to be replaced with contentment.

Liast pulled his hands back and glanced at the door. “S’Rak…I do not like her.”

“I know this is wrong of me,” said Rak, “but I do not trust her like I trust Asfalea.”

“Has this ever happened with your other pregnancies?” wondered Jisten.

Rak shook his head.

“No, certainly not,” added Liast. “He usually goes into labor once then has the baby. Not even practice contractions like women get.”

“Sura is said to be a more reserved sort. She mingles less with the Valers and loves to study and learn languages. The Kydem clan grieved when Asfalea had to stay in Karpos City.”

“Something about her sets me on edge,” Rak finally said. “And I do not think it’s her scholarship.”

“You did attack her with lightning,” Jisten said.

“I thought she was a chaos priest. I must have been dreaming. I have killed more chaos priests in the past several long moons than I had in the previous two years.”

“They are alone here. No army of monsters between you and them. And you win,” Jisten added smugly.

Rak grinned at Jisten fondly. “With your help, yes.”

Rak pressed against Jisten and closed his eyes. “Thank you, S’Liast. If you do not mind, I wish to be alone with Jisten now.”

Liast nodded. “I think I will cadge some chocolate from Despina. And keep an eye on that dhelion.”

“Thank you, S’Liast.”

* * * *

Outside in the pasture, Zala let out a howl. She sensed the death of little ones, infants, human, Loftoni, avtappi. It was an eerie thing that brushed her mind. Jisten sent calming thoughts to his mare. Zala whimpered and licked Vyld’s muzzle. Vyld trotted in tight circles around his small herd, ears flicking and senses alert to danger. He was the pack stallion, and avtappi had much in common with horses. Vrema and the other mares obediently huddled with Zala. Varn sniffed the wind and watched.

The sense of chaos passed without ever once coming into enough focus for Vyld to attack. He snorted in disgust then pictured a deer to his mares. Time to hunt. They stamped cloven hooves, eager to dispel the pent-up frustration. The avtappi trotted out in a loose pack formation, now acting more like a wolf pack than a herd.

“They’re hunting,” Jisten murmured to Rak. He dared stroke a hand down Rak’s belly. It stayed quiet.

“A good kill will settle them down.” Rak stroked Jisten’s hand.

* * * *

Riders come
, Scorth announced abruptly.
Many of them
.

Rak touched Scorth’s mind and looked through the dragon’s eyes. Dark-haired men, dressed in leather and wool, mounted on sturdy mountain ponies were approaching from the north. Behind them streamed caravan wagons of the type favored by the Valers. Rak sat up and touched Jisten’s shoulder. “We have company.”

Scorth obligingly shared the images with Jisten, who sat up with a whoop. “That’s our clan!”