Child of the Sword, Book 1 of The Gods Within (62 page)

Morgin looked at her coldly. “But I’m not
late, am I?”

“Well that’s about the only thing you’ve
done right.”

Morgin tried to ignore her sarcasm. “Where
do you want me to sit tonight?”

“Why, at the head of the table, of course,
oh ShadowLord.”

Rhianne looked at him kindly, and for the
first time in a long time showed him some sympathy. “I’m sorry,
Morgin.”

He shrugged. “We’re all sorry that I can’t
be what she wants, aren’t we?”

Rhianne’s face saddened. “I didn’t mean it
that way.”

Morgin shook his head. “I know.”

In short order the other lords and ladies of
the Lesser Clans arrived and were seated. As Olivia had instructed,
Morgin sat at the head of the table. On his right sat Olivia, then
BlakeDown and Tulellcoe and a long line of noblemen and noblewomen.
At the far end of the table sat Valso and Illalla, each with a
heavily armed guard standing immediately behind him. On Morgin’s
left sat Rhianne, and next to her BlakeDown’s son ErrinCastle—the
heir to Penda was about Morgin’s age, and he constantly paid far
too much attention to Rhianne. JohnEngine had seen to it that he
and France sat far down the table where they could get drunk and
enjoy themselves.

The servants moved quickly to fill
everyone’s goblet or tankard with wine or ale, though as yet they’d
served no food. When the servants stopped moving about Olivia stood
slowly and all eyes fell on her. She waited for some moments until
the room was absolutely still. “My Lords and Ladies of Penda, and
Tosk, and Inetka. We of House Elhiyne welcome you. We give you
thanks for the wisdom you have lent to this council of equals, and
we are humbled by the sage council of the Lords BlakeDown et Penda,
PaulStaff et Tosk, and Wylow et Inetka . . .”

Olivia’s words dropped to the back of
Morgin’s thoughts as he noticed ErrinCastle whispering something in
Rhianne’s ear. The Penda looked Morgin’s way and their eyes met.
ErrinCastle grinned and leered, though Rhianne, with her head
turned to listen to the whisper, did not see his face. The Penda
was a handsome young man, and could have had a dozen of the most
desirable young women at the drop of a hat, but it was Rhianne to
whom his attentions fell. And more than that, his advances were so
blatant he seemed to be trying to goad Morgin into jealous anger,
as if he were challenging Morgin to confront him. It was absolutely
idiotic, for nothing good could come of such a public display. So
for the good of Elhiyne, Morgin was determined to swallow his pride
and avoid making an issue of it. At least Rhianne had been careful
not to encourage the young Penda lord, though if ErrinCastle
continued to be so obvious, eventually Morgin would have to do
something. If only Rhianne would do more to actively discourage
him.

Morgin became suddenly conscious of Olivia’s
eyes upon him.

“. . . And so, my lords,”
Olivia finished. “Tomorrow will be the last day of the Council. We
have come to many agreements, and we have come to many
disagreements, but we have not lost our unity, and I believe we all
agree that the unity of the Lesser Council is the only thing that
keeps the jackals off our backs. So let those jackals be warned.”
She looked down the table at Valso and Illalla. “If our enemies
seek contest with us, they will again face the shadows of
Elhiyne.”

Someone in the back of the Hall—Morgin
suspected it was one of Olivia’s lackeys—shouted, “ShadowLord!”
Several Elhiyne clansmen took up the cry, and a few Inetkas as
well, but Morgin didn’t encourage it, and none of the Pendas or
Tosks joined in, so it died quickly.

“Enjoy the hospitality of Elhiyne,” Olivia
cried, and sat down.

The servants moved quickly, filling the
tables with food while the Hall filled with the buzz of laughter
and idle conversation. Morgin wanted to talk to Rhianne, but while
ErrinCastle seemed to monopolize her interest, Olivia was
determined to monopolize Morgin’s.

“Lord BlakeDown was speaking to you,” Olivia
chided him, forcing his attention away from Rhianne.

“I’m sorry,” Morgin said politely. Olivia’s
eyes narrowed angrily, reminding him that she’d told him time and
again that he must never apologize in public. The ShadowLord, the
Warmaster of Elhiyne, should never appear to debase himself before
another. Morgin tried to sound less apologetic as he asked, “What
were you saying?”

BlakeDown smiled insincerely. “I was
wondering what ransom you will demand for the Decouixs.”

Morgin looked at Valso and wondered how the
Decouix lord could maintain such an air of unconcern in captivity.
“I don’t know,” Morgin said flatly. “I think if I really took what
I wanted, it would be their heads. But I’m afraid I’ll have to be
content with something less.”

ErrinCastle suddenly demanded, “And why is
that? Why don’t you just kill them?”

Morgin shrugged. “They’re more valuable
alive.”

“Is it because of the story I heard about
you?” ErrinCastle demanded loudly, glancing about the table at
several of his friends with a sly grin. “Is it because of these
gods I’m told you speak with? I’ve heard they told you not to kill
the Decouixs. But then perhaps I heard the story wrong. Please.
Tell me about it.” One of ErrinCastle’s friends smirked into his
handkerchief.

Morgin reached for a piece of roast pheasant
and said flatly, “Maybe I’m just tired of killing in general.”

Rhianne tried to rescue him. “Well now, in
my opinion, that’s a very good thing to be tired of.”

“I believe it’s your power,” Olivia said,
knowing full well his power was dead. “I believe it’s giving you
wise council, though it’s quite common for one to be unaware of
such a subtle manifestation.”

“You know it’s the oddest thing!”
ErrinCastle observed to no one in particular. “I’ve heard so much
about your power, Lord AethonLaw, and yet I’ve never seen the
slightest hint of it.”

Morgin wanted to show him the power of his
fist, but had to be satisfied with a simple comment. “I see no
reason to flaunt my abilities.”

Most of the evening went that way, with
ErrinCastle baiting him, BlakeDown looking on as if he were an
observer at a cock fight, Rhianne trying to rescue him, and Olivia
always trying to gain some advantage from even the slightest
tension. Morgin was relieved when he finally got away. He wanted to
find JohnEngine and France and have a little fun, but they’d
disappeared somewhere so he drifted toward the stables where
Mortiss, at least, would not talk back to him.

He didn’t scratch her between the ears as
he’d done with poor old SarahGirl. Mortiss had no need of such
comforting. “What a rotten evening this has been!” he said to
her.

She snorted, as if saying she didn’t really
feel like listening to his troubles.

“I know,” he said, “I know. But I have to
talk to someone.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I wish you could tell me what happened to
my power,” he said. “And I wish I knew what to do with Rhianne.
Ellowyn was right. I do still love her, even if I don’t want to
admit it.”

“And why don’t you want to admit it?”

For an instant Morgin thought Mortiss had
actually spoken, but then Rhianne stepped out of the shadows. “Why
don’t you want to admit it? Tell me. I do want to know. And who is
this Ellowyn you speak of? And what did you mean when you said you
wished the horse could tell you what happened to your power. What
did happen to your power?”

Morgin shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s
just gone. It died some place; I think at Csairne Glen.”

Rhianne stepped closer and frowned. “What do
you mean died?”

He wondered for a moment if he should be
telling her this, but he knew that if he ever hoped to trust her at
all, he must trust her now. “Just that. My power is dead. It’s as
if I’ve lost an arm, or a leg. No! It’s as if I’ve lost my sight
along with both arms and legs. I’m almost helpless.”

She reached up and touched his cheek gently.
“I’m so sorry.”

“That makes two of us.”

She looked into his eyes for a long moment,
as if trying to understand him better, then she withdrew her hand
from his cheek. “And why don’t you want to admit that you still
love me?”

He didn’t try to answer that question, but
instead asked one of his own. “Aren’t you getting a little tired of
ErrinCastle?”

“Of course I’m getting tired of him,” she
said. “I don’t like it when he baits you, and he’s mooning over me
like a puppy. His advances are getting downright embarrassing.”

“Then why don’t you get rid of him?”

“I would if I could,” she said, becoming
suddenly defensive. “If he were at least discreet I could turn him
down discreetly, but he’s become so blatant I’d have to openly
insult him in public to discourage him. And your grandmother has
specifically forbidden me to do that. So I’m doing the best I
can.”

Morgin shook his head. “I do know what it’s
like to be caught between my grandmother’s desires and my own.”

“It’s maddening,” she said, frustration
dripping from every word.

This was the first time in years they’d
actually spoken more than a few words in a private setting. More
frightened than he’d ever been in any battle, more fearful of this
moment than he’d ever feared death, he took a chance. She stood
within arm’s reach, so, looking into her eyes, he reached out
carefully and put his hand behind her, pressed it into the small of
her back and pulled her toward him. He did so carefully, gently and
tentatively, ready to yield if she showed the slightest bit of
resistance. But she came to him almost gladly, and as he drowned in
her eyes he saw that twinkle appear, the twinkle he hadn’t seen in
so long a time. She pressed her body lightly against him and
stopped with her lips almost brushing his, her arms still at her
sides, the soft scent of her skin washing over him.

He hesitated, not sure where he was going
with this, and in that instant she smiled coyly and said, “Well
husband, are you going to kiss me or not?”

He said, “I wasn’t sure if—”

She didn’t let him finish, but wrapped her
arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. As their tongues
danced together, he pulled her tightly against him, and he realized
suddenly they had never kissed before, not like this, not hot and
passionate, both of them sensing each other’s desperate need. When
the kiss ended and their lips parted she rested her chin on his
shoulder, and they held each other tightly for a long moment. Then
she leaned back, looked at him carefully and smiled.

He suddenly blurted out, “I’m sorry I was
stupid enough to believe you went to Valso’s bed. I was a
fool.”

Her eyes narrowed, though the twinkle
remained. “Yes, you are.” She stepped out of his arms, turned and
walked out of the stables.

He was alone again, with only Mortiss to
keep him company. She snorted and shook her head, as if telling him
she agreed with Rhianne.

~~~

“You promised me you’d discredit him,” DaNoel
growled angrily. Then, thinking of the enspelled guard dozing in
the corridor, he lowered his voice. “You promised.”

Valso took a deep breath, sat down on the
cot in his cell and spoke as if he were lecturing a child. “And I
fully intend to keep that promise. My methods are effective, but
they cannot be rushed. Take, for instance, the Penda whelp
ErrinCastle.”

“What does he have to do with discrediting
my bro—the whoreson? He’s a fool who can’t keep his head about
women. That’s all.”

Valso shook his head carefully. “You don’t
actually believe he’s that much of a fool, do you? He’s making a
complete ass of himself over Rhianne. His father has told him more
than once to stop being such an idiot, and each night he resolves
to maintain his dignity the next time he sees her. But the next
morning, when he does see her, my spell takes over, and he loses
all control.”

“So you’re responsible for that?” DaNoel
laughed and looked at Valso with new respect. “That’s driving the
whoreson crazy.”

Valso nodded happily. “Yes, it is.
ErrinCastle’s advances are putting him under a great deal of stress
right now, and tomorrow that will be very important.”

“Why?” DaNoel demanded. “What’s going to
happen tomorrow?”

Valso intertwined the fingers of his hands,
cupped them behind his head and leaned back comfortably on his cot.
“I really can’t tell you that, though I will tell you that the
whoreson has two very carefully kept secrets, both of which will be
revealed tomorrow and create quite a bit of excitement. Don’t miss
the final session of the Council in the Hall of Wills, or you’ll
miss all the fun.”

“Listen to me, Decouix,” DaNoel spat
angrily. “I told you I want to know what’s going to happen, and
you’re not going to evade the answer.”

Valso sat up and his eyes narrowed. “I’m
not, am I?” he asked through a very unpleasant smile, and DaNoel’s
eyes grew suddenly heavy. In seconds he was asleep standing on his
feet. Valso stood, approached him, and spoke very softly. “You
can’t even conceive of the power I command, you ignorant fool. I’ve
a mind to kill you where you stand, but traitors can be a valuable
commodity so I’ll let you live, for the time being.

“Now you’ll remember nothing of this. You’ll
leave here, return to your room and go to sleep. And tomorrow
you’ll not remember coming to me, nor leaving, nor anything that
happened between. But you’ll instruct the stable boy to saddle and
provision a horse for you, and to hold it ready. And when the
excitement begins in the Hall of Wills you’ll come to me
immediately. Is that clear?”

DaNoel’s eyes opened and his head
straightened. There was no hint in his features that he was not
fully in control of himself, but Valso knew better. “Is that
clear?” Valso repeated.