Jayne Castle [Jayne Ann Krentz] (48 page)

The presence of the rich and powerful had a sobering influence on some of the guests whose tendency

was to become rowdy in such circumstances. So far, for example, there had been no facetious remarks

about the steel of Countervail. Kalena was grateful. She was fairly certain Ridge would have taken

exception.

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He had worn black to this second, more glittering celebration. Unrelieved black. Not just a cloak of the

dark stuff, but also shirt, trousers and boots. Kalena had not questioned his choice, but she sensed it had

not been a casual decision. Nor was it based on her own color selection. Not this time.

She herself had chosen to wear a red wedding cloak again. But this time she wore it over a tunic of

beautifully embroidered yellow sarsilk, trousers of emerald green and soft velvet slippers. With the profit

she had made by selling a portion of her share of the Sand, Kalena had been able to afford to indulge

herself in her second set of wedding clothes. She had insisted on paying herself, overriding Ridge's

objections with a smile. But she couldn't stop him from buying her the wedding gift he claimed he owed

her in exchange for his embroidered shirts.

Ridge's long-delayed wedding gift gleamed on Kalena's left hand tonight. It was a ring of beautiful, costly

Talon Pass crystal. When Ridge had slipped it onto her finger, he had told her the color of the stones

matched her eyes.

Fingering the ring with an absent gesture of uneasiness, Kalena glanced around the room, glad of the few

moments of peace she was enjoying. She wanted time to think. It was the first time she had been back in

Quintel's house since she and Ridge had arrived in Crosspurposes. She had not even seen Quintel until

this evening.

As soon as they had ridden into view of the town, Ridge had told her he wanted privacy for both of

them. He did not take her to Quintel's house. He had arranged accommodations at an inn that first night

back before going to report to his employer. Kalena had made no protest. She didn't particularly wish to

see the trade baron. The sight of him would always be a reminder of her personal failure. She had no

wish to kill him now, but then, she never had. She just didn't want to spend too much time with him.

That night when he had returned late from his debriefing with Quintel, Ridge had lain awake for a long

time staring at the ceiling. Finally, he had announced that they would be staying at the inn until they could

find a house of their own.

Kalena had spent the next few days interviewing agents who had properties to sell or lease. Eventually

she had settled on a charming little villa overlooking the river. Ridge had taken one look, pronounced

himself satisfied, and scrawled his name on the necessary papers. The deal was closed. Kalena had set

up housekeeping in the first home of which she was truly mistress.

Several days later, convinced she had her home under control, Kalena began talking to the leaders of the

Healers' Guild about the possibility of being taken on as an apprentice. Soon thereafter, she was assigned

to three Healers, all experts in various branches of the healing arts, who were willing to undertake

instruction.

Tonight Kalena was as proud of the tiny brazier and pouch of Sand that dangled from her belt as she

was of the green crystal ring Ridge had given her in honor of the occasion.

As she stood amid the swirling, glittering, laughing crowd Kalena told herself that everything should have

been perfect, but she knew that was not the case.

Quintel had disappeared first from the festivities. Ridge had vanished a short time later. Kalena had

watched both of them leave, her intuition sending prickles of alarm through her. The words of her aunt's

Far Seeing prophecy suddenly blazed in her mind: Quintel will die the night of your wedding.

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Kalena was suddenly, coldly, frightened. With blinding clarity, the truth forced its way into her mind; a

truth that was based on an intuitive knowledge she had been deliberately suppressing for days. Perhaps

she had ignored the inner certainty for Ridge's sake. But now she realized that Ridge was fully aware of

the same truth. Being Ridge, he had decided to act on his knowledge. It was not in him to sidestep such a

harsh reality. How long had he known? Kalena wondered. Probably since their return to Crosspurposes.

He had kept the knowledge to himself while he made his plans. Tonight was the night he had chosen to

act.

With an almost silent cry of concern that no one in the hall heard, Kalena set down her goblet and

slipped away to follow her husband. She would not let him face this alone. He was her husband. She

would be at his side when the inevitable confrontation took place.

Out in the garden, Ridge glanced at the moonlight dancing on the rainstone path. Symmetra was almost

full again, her red glow lighting the night. It seemed to him that the color on the rainstones was particularly

bright this evening. It reminded him of blood.

The servant carrying Quintel's measure of Encana wine was mildly astonished, but not alarmed when

Ridge stepped into the House lord's chambers from the colonnaded walkway. If he thought it strange for

the groom to have abandoned the wedding festivities, he was far too well trained to remark on the

matter.

"I'll take that in to Quintel." Ridge calmly held out his hand for the tray with its chased goblet. He

anticipated no trouble and he had none.

"As you wish, Trade Master." The servant hesitated only slightly before handing over the tray with a

small bow Ridge was a familiar figure in the household. All were aware that Quintel trusted his Fire Whip

more than he trusted any other man on the Northern Continent, including his servants. The man turned

and disappeared down a corridor.

Ridge glanced down at the wine as the servant vanished. He thought about Kalena's reckless plans the

night of the trade marriage ceremony. Ridge flinched, then deliberately pushed the memory from his mind

and pulled the cord to ring the bell inside Quintel's sound insulated study.

A moment later the bell on Ridge's side of the door chimed once, and he knew Quintel had approved his

entry into the inner sanctum.

Ridge walked into the study and closed the door behind him, but did not lock it. Quintel was seated on a

chair in front of a black stone desk, his back to the door. The study looked much as it had the last time

Ridge saw it. He had never liked the chamber. He didn't like rooms without windows, and this one had

none. Fresh air was provided from the outside by a complicated system of ducts. Quintel insisted on

absolute privacy. The hearth in one corner had a small fire in it. The room was lined floor-to-ceiling with

books and manuscripts. Some of them, Ridge knew, were very old and handwritten. Others were more

recent and had been printed on the new presses that had been invented a few years ago. One locked

chest contained Quintel's most precious volumes.

The book collection was extensive, and reflected the tastes and interests of a brilliant, questing, restless

mind. The section on mathematics was particularly large, as was that containing the studies of the ancient

legends of the Northern Continent and Zantalia itself. Ridge had read some of the books on these

shelves. Quintel had seen to it that his Fire Whip did not embarrass himself or his lord for want of a

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decent education.

"Your wine, Quintel." Ridge stood quietly, holding his burden and waiting for the other man to turn

around.

Quintel slowly put down the plumed writing instrument he had been using, but he didn't turn his head. He

sat gazing at the swirling motif that had been engraved into the stone of the desk. He was dressed as

usual in black, very much as Ridge was dressed. "So, Fire Whip, you have grown bored with weddings?

I can't say I blame you. You've been through a number of them lately, haven't you?”

"This second ceremony wasn't meant to happen, was it, Quintel?"

Ridge thought he saw Quintel tense momentarily, and then the older man at last turned around. He

studied Ridge for a long while, his near-black eyes unfathomable. Ridge saw a bitter weariness in the

lines of Quintel's aristocratic features that he did not remember seeing before he had left on the journey to

the Heights of Variance.

"No," Quintel admitted at last. "There should have been no need for tonight's ceremony."

"Because Kalena and I were never meant to return from our journey." Ridge set the tray down on a

small table near the door and then straightened again, his hand resting idly on the handle of the sintar. The

two men faced each other across the short expanse of the room.

"You know it all?" Quintel's voice was as expressionless as his eyes.

"I figured it out on the way back from the Variance Mountains."

Quintel nodded as if mildly pleased with the show of intelligence. "Does the woman know?"

"Kalena knows nothing. I didn't tell her what I knew had to be the truth."

"Sensible. This is a matter between men. There is no need to involve a mere female."

"You were willing enough to involve her when you wanted the Light Key, Quintel. You were more than

willing to see her killed." Quintel shrugged. "It couldn't be helped. If it comes to that, you must have

figured out that I was willing to sacrifice you, too."

"I'm here because of what you tried to do to Kalena, not because you used me. She is my wife, Quintel."

"I was so close to the answers, Fire Whip." One hand clenched briefly into a fist of frustration. "By the

Stones,Iwas close. I needed the right female and all the signs indicated she was it. You I had selected

years ago and had kept in readiness."

"You needed a man who could control the fire in the steel of Countervail."

Quintel smiled wryly. "The ancient legends were right when they claimed that the Dark Key could only

be handled by one who could make the steel of Countervail glow with fire. There are few such men in

any generation, Ridge. For years I tracked down every rumor of such a male. I wanted a young man, one

I could bind to me with ties of loyalty while I searched for the right female. When I found you on the

streets of Countervail, you seemed perfect for my purposes. A tough, intelligent, violent little bastard. No

family ties to conflict with the ones I intended to impose. And you rewarded me with such loyalty, Fire

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Whip. It was amazing, you know I really did come to trust you completely. I had to take risks with you,

of course. Sending you out on the various trade route clean up missions was dangerous. I might have lost

you to a bandit's dart or a well aimed sintar, but I needed a man who had been well honed. I needed to

make certain you retained the sharp edge I would need when I finally was able to use you. Only real

danger can give a man that kind of edge."

"And Kalena?"

"I needed an untrained Healer, or so the old books claimed. One who had the Talent, but who had not

had the Talent channeled in specific directions. According to the old manuscripts, the one who wielded

the Light Key must have raw and untapped Talent. The Key needs to feed on it and direct it. A trained

Healer could not adapt her skills. The conflict between the Key's demands and what the training had

done to her would have killed her outright before she could take up the Key. Like your ability with the

steel, the Talent is a unique gift. It is a curious product of this world, one the Dawn Lords did not possess

because they were newcomers to this land. But they soon began to see occasional signs of it in their

children. Somehow they discovered that native born generations to come would continue to produce a

few people endowed with certain odd gifts. They knew that somehow the talent for fire and the talent for

healing would be needed to handle the Keys. The Healer's Talent is far more common than yours, Fire

Whip, but most Healers are discovered early and put into training. It is very rare to find one who has not

had the training and a great deal of exposure to Sand smoke. It proved even more difficult to devise a

way to get control of her. What decent family would have given up a daughter with the Talent to marriage

with a bastard such as you, Fire Whip? It was necessary that both the male and the female be bonded

together before they took up the Keys. And then the damn Healers closed the Sand route, making things

exceedingly difficult for me with the local Town Council. The right woman was needed, they told my

traders. Well, I agreed with them for reasons of my own. I was damn tired of waiting. Then the offer of a

trade marriage with her niece arrived from some country Healer in Interlock. It looked as if the forces of

fate had finally come together. I knew the moment for which I had planned had finally arrived."

"How did you know Kalena had the Talent?"

"It was a calculated guess based on years of studying the way certain characteristics are passed down