VirtualDesire (27 page)

He snatched her into his arms, then kissed her with all the
heat and desire coiled inside him. “Know this well, Gwen—you are mine, and I
intend to claim you.”

Twilight of the next day fell before they rounded the river
bend that took them from Selaw territory to Tolemac. Undulating hills smoothed
out to a wide valley, through which the river wound like a ribbon of blood under
the setting Tolemac sun. Soon the night would belong to the moons, and surely,
Gwen thought, the moons belonged to Tolemac, echoed by the color of the
people’s eyes, the gems in their belts and on the handles of their daggers.

Nestled in the valley, as far as the eye could see,
stretched a city of tents, dotted about with the flicker of large fires. The
tents were high-peaked pavilions with fluttering banners. It all reminded her
of what a medieval tournament might have looked like. She imagined from the
division of the tents on either side of the river that some were Tolemac and
others Selaw.

In the midst of the light-colored tents on the Tolemac side,
a cluster of a dozen or so were stark black against the hills.

“Who has all the black tents?” Gwen asked as she helped the
maidens disembark from the boat in a natural cove that screened them from view
of the valley.

“If they fly the standard of a single rose then Samoht has
brought his personal guard—the Red Rose Warriors. They are known far and wide
for their prowess as fighters.” Vad stood on the bank and helped unload the
boxes. When the boat was secured from both Selaw and Tolemac view, each person
attended to washing up. Vad shaved with the razor-sharp edge of the jeweled
dagger, and, along with the seven maidens, Gwen found it hard not to sit and
stare as he worked.

Ardra changed into a green cloak edged with gold and purple.
Senga braided Ardra’s hair, then wound it about her head like a crown.

“Shall I send one of my men to Senga’s father to inquire how
he wishes to effect the return of his daughter? Surely one Selaw servant will
not excite any curiosity. A lifemating negotiation will not be hostile. I
imagine many Selaw are dining in Tolemac tents, as well as the reverse,” Ardra
said.

Vad nodded. “I am loath to send another man to do my tasks.
But it makes sense.”

“I could accompany him and see if I can contrive a private
talk with the councilor.”

Ardra kissed each maiden, and then, with but a moment of
hesitation, kissed Gwen’s cheek. She went to Vad. Before him, she bowed deeply,
then, without a word, she melted into the night with her escort.

While the maidens spread blankets on the ground, night fell.
Vad knelt by the water and gathered plants in the bright orb’s glow.

It silvered his hair, cast a gleam on his clean-shaven face.
Gwen sighed aloud. He looked up, smiled, and beckoned her near. She crouched by
his side. In his hand he held a few flat leaves. He tore one and held it to her
nose. It was peppery. “These will add a touch of flavor to the fish he
catches.” Vad nodded toward one of Ardra’s men, who was setting out a small
net. “If nothing else, we will dine well.”

“Vad, what if this doesn’t go well? Have you thought of
that?”

He gave a negligent shrug, but she knew he cared deeply.
“Isn’t there something else you could be besides a warrior?”

He looked into the distance. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said. “I didn’t start out to run
a shop. I was going to be a famous fabric designer, but circumstances changed
that. I met Bob, he died, and I just couldn’t sell his business. Now I love it.
I love the games, talking to the people, playing the roles. Come on. Use your
imagination; dream a little.”

Ardra’s man brought Vad a long, silver fish. He cleaned it
and then wrapped it in the peppery leaves. Tucking the fish into the banked
coals, he sat back and stared into the fire. “I would like a kitchen with three
fires going at all times, a kettle constantly on the boil, and three men or
women who love food to do my bidding.” He grinned. “Most especially to clean
the fish.” Then he lost his smile. “But a man does not cook unless on the move
with his company, or in a place where a woman is not available.”

She imagined him in her grandmother’s kitchen, a chef’s
apron about his waist, a wooden spoon in one hand. She laughed aloud at the
image, because in her mind’s eye, when he turned around, he wore only the apron
and nothing else.

“What amuses you?”

“Nothing.” She swallowed her delight.

Later, when the savory fish was but a memory, Gwen licked her
fingers and sighed. Ardra burst from the shadows, her man running at her side.

“Disaster,” she cried, and fell into Vad’s arms. “All is
discovered.” She clutched his sleeves and gulped air.

With great calmness, Vad held her shoulders and shook her.
“Steady. Start at the beginning. Tell us calmly.”

Ardra nodded, and then broke into tears.

“I will tell you,” Ardra’s man said. He was a nondescript
man of the same tall, blond stamp as the rest of the Selaw men. “As Mistress
Ardra and I approached the tents, we heard a terrible commotion. Many folk were
streaming toward a tent larger than the others.”

“The council meeting tent,” Ardra managed to say, then fell
to sobbing.

“I asked a man tending a horse what was the matter and he
said one of the councilors had been caught with another’s lifemate.”

“And?” Vad stifled an urge to choke the information from the
man.

“And the wronged woman started screaming and tearing her
hair, bemoaning her missing daughter and her mate’s perf…perf—”

“Perfidy.” He could imagine the rest. “And everyone became
privy to her lamentations, thus alerting all to her daughter’s plight, and so
on to the other councilors.”

The man bobbed his head in agreement with Vad’s words.

“Ardra, bathe your face; we must go to the meeting tent
immediately with the maidens. It is cruel to hold them from their families even
a moment longer.”

“But we haven’t thought of a plan yet to explain the missing
map!” Gwen cried. She peeled Ardra off Vad’s chest and wiped her tearstained
face with a wet cloth.

“I will take my chances.” Vad stepped into a pool of
moonlight, and Ardra gasped when she saw he was garbed in his Tolemac colors,
once again a warrior from his tunic to his high black boots. “I want each
maiden to stand with another. Youngest first, oldest last. Ardra, hold Liah’s
hand and keep a close watch on her. Gwen, walk a few paces behind us and keep
your eyes downcast. It will serve to make you appear a proper servant.”

The maidens lined up like ducklings behind their mother, and
Gwen had to run to catch up when Vad immediately led them up the riverbank.

Her stomach danced as they approached the Tolemac camp. They
excited great curiosity as they passed along the rows of tents, but the men who
sat about the campfires merely rose and watched them, murmuring among
themselves. No one challenged them, perhaps because of Vad’s uniform, perhaps
because they had children with them.

One tent, twice as large as the others, stood a bit apart.
Torches ringed it. Men stood at attention, long spears in their hands at every
tent stake. Angry voices could be heard. It sounded like dozens of men were
talking at once. The apprehension in Gwen’s stomach turned to stark fear.

Vad lifted his hand for them to wait and said only one word
to the sentry at the tent flap, his name.

The sentry disappeared a moment, and the brief glimpse Gwen
had of the inside was of splashes of color and many men about a large, round
table.

Silence fell inside the tent. When the sentry returned, he
threw back the flap and gestured them in.

Vad pointed right as he entered, and the maidens, led by
Ardra, took places against the canvas wall. Gwen’s heart thudded hard in her
chest.

The tent was awash with the scents of men, leather, oiled
metal, sweat, and horses. There were no women present, and no one stood and
cried with joy at the sight of his missing child. Utter silence had fallen.

Gwen counted twenty-four councilors at the table. The high
eight sat in ornate chairs, with silver goblets and plates before them. Three
men sat on more humble stools between each councilor. Banners of many colors,
the Tolemac form of heraldry, lined the wall. It was magnificent and
frightening. Not one man smiled.

Vad knelt before one man, who stood at his approach. The man
touched Vad’s head and broke the tense silence. “Rise.”

Gwen noticed he was not called “esteemed warrior” here, as
he had been in the fortress.

Vad walked the table and accepted a similar touch on the
head as he knelt at each chair. When he returned to the original man, he placed
the jeweled dagger on the table. A murmur ran the length the table.

“Most esteemed High Councilor, I have brought you the
dagger,” Vad said. “I have also returned the maidens.”

So this was Samoht. He was younger than she’d expected. He
was also lean and handsome, his hair more brown than blond. His bright blue
eyes raked the women. “This is most unexpected.”

Vad nodded, and Gwen guessed the less said the better.

Samoht returned his attention to the dagger. He examined it,
and finally twisted off the handle.

He upended it. An audible moan rose from the councilors.
Samoht shook it, peered into it. “Is this some jest?”

All eyes turned to Vad.

“There is no jest,” Vad said. “I gave the map to Ruonail’s
partner in this treacherous kidnapping. The man’s name is Narfrom. I exchanged
the map for Liah. I do not regret it.”

No one spoke. Several heads turned toward Liah, then back to
the high councilor. Finally Samoht cleared his throat. “What of Kered? Why is
he not with you? Did you find him?”

Vad nodded. “I did. He had no intention of using the dagger,
and knew nothing of its contents. It is a slave who holds him there, in a place
called Ocean City, far across the ice fields. It is not a desire for treasure,
or worse, a desire to plan treachery against Tolemac. He and his woman await
the birth of their first child.”

“How can we know this to be the truth?” asked one of the
councilors. He was obese, overflowing his stool, his stomach straining his rich
red robes.

Vad turned to him. “Because I say it is. And I do not wish
to be questioned by a man who cannot even rise to welcome home his daughter.”

A gasp ran the perimeter of the tent. Senga burst into
tears. An expression of pain crossed the fat man’s face, then his countenance
smoothed to a doughy impassivity. His voice was low and trembled as he spoke.
“I am at the tenth level of awareness. Do you think it worthy of me to show
such emotion?”

“Aye. It would bespeak your concern for her.”

“You tread without fear,” Samoht said to Vad.

Vad swung in his direction. “What have I to fear? That I
will be accused of treacherous acts? Or that I will be asked to a trek across
the ice fields, a journey to almost certain death? Or should I fear the
consequences of returning here to men who said they wanted one thing, but
really wanted another?”

Several councilors put their heads together and whispered
urgently.

The fat man rose. His stool fell over. “Let us be done with
pretense. Our daughters,” he stabbed a finger at six men at various points
about the table, each one a lesser councilor, “were taken, their lives
threatened unless we tried to change the ice treaty. We have not tried, have
we?”

“That is so.” Samoht nodded. “Continue.”

The other men rose. First one, then the other gave a piece
of the story. Their beloved daughters had been taken, but they were determined
that no matter what—even the painful deaths of their loved ones and the
inconsolable misery of their lifemates—they would stand firm and do nothing to
change the ice treaties.

Two other maidens began to weep. Gwen wanted to hug them,
but she was disguised as a male servant and knew she couldn’t do it.

Liah hid her face in Ardra’s skirts.

Samoht sat heavily in his chair. He rubbed a hand over his
face. “Sit.” The seven men sank into their seats. “This is a diabolical mess.
When may we expect more of Ruonail’s demands?”

“Ruonail will be troubling you no longer,” Vad said. “He has
banished himself.” Ardra made a small sound in her throat, and Gwen forgot her
role and squeezed her hand. Vad continued, “I have brought his daughter, Ardra,
to offer her father’s sincere apologies.” He beckoned her near.

Ardra went, her head held high, but Gwen saw the small
trembling of her hands. She dropped to her knees before Samoht. The maidens
crowded about her. “My house has always been honorable. I offer no excuse for my
father, save madness.”

Why didn’t she mention Narfrom?

“Perhaps, if no harm has been done to the treaties, the
councilors could step down, and the issue could be put in the past,” said a
councilor who was in a favored chair near Samoht. His long hair was gray and
thick, his robes the white, black, and gold of Vad’s uniform. He had a military
air.

A frown knit Samoht’s brow, and Gwen felt a shiver of fear
again. “You are generous with your advice this night, Tol.” Samoht seemed a
hard man, and Gwen pitied the Selaw princess whom he would wed.

“The young often need advice.” Tol smiled. “If Ruonail has
banished himself, we are saved a visit to that cruel clime to take him. You
know we would have lost many men trying to breach such a fortress. Let us be
practical. The beloved daughters are returned.” Tol pointed a finger to a
councilor in ivory and blue. “Ranoc shall make what amends he can to his
lifemate.” His finger then shifted to a man who wore black and purple robes.
“Srob’s mate shall be scourged, as is proper in a faithless woman. All will
then be as it was. New men will join the council; peace will continue.” Tol
yawned and scratched his own ample belly.

Scourge the woman, do nothing to the husband?
Gwen
had to bite her tongue.

“And what of our warrior here?” Samoht pointed the empty
dagger at Vad.