Lord of the Fading Lands (21 page)

Rain's spine stiffened and his eyes narrowed. "She is well. I would not leave her were it otherwise." The implication was a grave insult. Dorian blinked in bewilderment. "Yes, of course. I meant no offense.”

«Celierian consider it polite to ask after the health of one's mate,»
Dax murmured silently. «
It was the same, before the Wars.»

Rain had a vague memory, long forgotten, of a similar incident many centuries past.
^«I
remember now. I didn't like it then either. They should take better care of their mates, so the question of their mates' health need never be in doubt.”

With Dax's laughter rippling through his mind, Rain shook off his irritation and got straight to the purpose of the meeting. "I have come to discuss the situation in the north. Dax and Marissya tell me you believe
dahl'reisen
have begun murdering Celierians.”

Dorian nodded. "There've been half a dozen attacks in the last two months, and twenty Celierians slain since First Moon this spring. Another ten since harvest last fall. Mostly farmers and village folk along the northern march. The Border Lords had been keeping the situation quiet, but now that the pamphleteers and newspapers have wind of it, all hope of quietly resolving the problem is gone." He explained about the witnesses and showed Rain the recovered Fey'cha. "Dax has already told me it's unlikely the blade was left behind by accident.”

"Beyond unlikely," Rain agreed. "All blades forged in a Fey smithy have a weave spun into them so their owners may summon them back to their sheaths after use. The spell works on any blade within half a mile of its owner. It was either left deliberately as a challenge, or stolen and left to cast suspicion on the Fey." He examined the dagger and the name-mark forged on it. "I don't recognize this mark, but it does appear to be a true Fey'cha."
«Dax, send an image of the mark to all the Fey. See if any of them know it.»

King Dorian shook his head. "Sebourne—the lord whose lands were attacked—has already refused. He says the witnesses are terrified of having their minds manipulated by the Fey, and he's angry enough over the number of murders on his land to support them." Dorian cast an apologetic glance Dax's way. To suggest that Marissya would misuse her powers was a grave insult.

"Is there a map that shows where the raids have taken place?" Rain asked.

"Here." Dorian walked around his desk and opened a narrow door in the corner of the far wall. "We started monitoring the incidents after the first half-dozen deaths last year." He pulled out a large map of Celieria mounted vertically on a wheeled spongewood backing. A handful of colored pins set with tiny annotated flags were scattered across the northern border. "Except for the fact that most of the raids have taken place in the villages along the Celierian-Eld border, there is no apparent pattern to the attacks.”

Rain examined the collection of pins. The raids had taken place over a thousand miles of border land, ranging from Bolla near the eastern coast all the way to Toulon in the west.

"What would a band of
dahl'reisen
gain from slaughtering Celierian peasants?" Dorian asked. "That's what I cannot understand.”

Rain cast a glance back over his shoulder. "Have you considered the possibility that it might not be
dahl'reisen?
Fey enemies are numerous, and as you know, the greatest of them lies just across your northern border.”

The king's brows rose. "You think the Eld are behind this?”

"The possibility must at least be considered.”

"But the Eld have no more reason to kill Celierian peasants than
dahl'reisen
do."

"Unless they mean to drive a wedge between Celieria and the Fading Lands. Celierians have rarely distinguished between Fey actions and those of the
dahl'reisen.
The Eld know that. They would use it to their advantage." Rain turned back to the map, frowning at the large expanse of border. "How many troops do you have on the border?" he asked.

"Two thousand, give or take a few hundred.”

"That's not enough. You should have triple that number at least." Rain straightened and turned around. "I can offer two thousand Fey to ward the borders and track the attackers when they strike again.”

Dorian's jaw sagged in surprise. Fey and mortal troops had not stood side-by-side along the Eld border in nine hundred years. Not since Celieria had reconstituted its military after the decimation of the Mage Wars. Fey had periodically quartered themselves in the border keeps to watch for signs of Eld magic and strengthen the wards put in place at the end of the Wars, but never more than that. The Mages had been defeated, and the Fey had withdrawn from the world.

"Your offer is … quite generous, My Lord Feyreisen, and an unexpected honor." Dorian cleared his throat. "I don't know what to say.”

"I do not offer Fey lives or Fey steel lightly," Rain answered. "I have sensed a growing darkness in Eld. The Mages are at work again. It is one reason why I question whether the
dahl'reisen
are truly behind these raids of yours.”

"Do you have proof of this Mage activity? Reports from spies?”

Rain raised a brow "This I do not need. I sense the darkness, and that is enough.”

"I see." Dorian drew a deep breath. "Well, unfortunately, the Council of Lords will require more than just Fey intuition before they authorize tripling the number of troops along our border, or quartering foreign warriors—especially Fey warriors, given the current suspicions about the
dahl'reisen.
Besides, the Eld would view a troop buildup as an act of open aggression.

"You must understand," he added when Rain's expression darkened, "our relations with the Eld have settled considerably in the last decades. In fact, the Elden ambassador was here not a fortnight ago seeking to recommence direct trade between our two countries. He spoke quite eloquently, and the terms he offered were very appealing.”

Rain's hands fell to the silk-wrapped handles of the curved
meicha
at his hips. His fingers curled tight around the grips. "You let the Eld ambassador set foot on Celierian land?" he growled. "You're contemplating
trade
with those black-souled vermin?" The windows of Dorian's office rattled in their panes.

The king cast a confused glance in Dax's direction. "We've been trading with them indirectly for more than three centuries … ever since the Great Plague threatened the mortal world. They possess the only supply of keio, one of the ingredients required for the cure. We still purchase it yearly through Sorrelian intermediaries, along with a few other goods.”

«Dax . . . »
Rain hissed with silent fury.

«You had only just regained your sanity. Marissya and I both agreed it was best you did not know. Thousands—hundreds of thousands—had already died. Millions more would have. There weren't enough healers to have stopped it.»

Rain shook his head in disbelief and turned his attention back to Dorian. "You Celierians with your short life spans. The Mage Wars are naught but a distant dream to you, a conflict that happened so many generations in the past it has no bearing on the present. But the Fey fought those wars. We died by the thousands, hideously, in those wars. We remember." He speared Dax with another hot glance. "At least most of us do. We still mourn our dead. The Eld are not to be trusted. Ever!”

"Rain—" Dax held out his hands. "There has been no trouble with the Eld since the Wars. Perhaps Dorian's advisors are right … perhaps it is time to heal the wounds”

"Your own mate's sister died at their hands. Her brother became
dahl'reisen—forever
banished from the Fading Lands—because of what he did in vengeance. You dare say this to me? Trade with the black-souled practitioners of Azrahn?”

"It is because of Marikah, because of Gaelen, that I do feel free to speak," Dax returned. "They are gone from the Fey forever. Nothing can bring either of them back to us. But the Mage Wars were a millennium ago. And the Mages were all but destroyed. You saw to that. The other Eld, those not from Mage families, they don't practice Azrahn.”

"It only takes one.”

«Know your enemy, Tairen Soul. Opening the borders to trade gives us an opportunity to introduce our own eyes and ears into Eld. They can find the proof Dorian needs.”

«Never will I willingly put another Fey life within reach of Eld evil. The darkness is there. It grows. Opening the borders does not help us. It endangers us all the more.»

"Dax is right," Dorian said. "The Mage Wars were a thousand years ago—provoked by a senseless assassination that snowballed into full-scale war thanks to Gaelen vel Serranis's excessive vengeance.”

"The assassination," Rain answered with clenched jaw, "was not senseless. It was retaliation by the Eld for a wound your ancestors delivered two thousand years earlier. The Eld don't forget. And they count on the fact that you do!”

"I think perhaps you lack objectivity in this situation. You suffered a great many personal losses in the Wars. You hate the Eld. You'll never see them as anything but enemies.”

"Because that is all they will ever be!"

"My advisors," Dorian said, "see this opportunity as a way to provide a needed boost to our economy. As do many of the nobles on the Council of Lords.”

"Your advisors," Rain retorted, "and your nobles are greedy fools. When an evil man dangles a heavy purse before you, beware. Have you never learned that?”

"When his children are hungry, a desperate man will do desperate things," the king countered. "The last year has not been easy. Droughts and floods ruined most of last year's crops. Even with the help the Fey provided to manage the weather, our stockpiles of food are nearly depleted. If this year's harvests are not plentiful, there will be starvation come winter.”

If Rain could promise Fey help to bring fertility to the Celierian fields, he would. But any such promise would be a lie. Fertility was a woman's gift, and the Fey women had been barren for centuries. "I can send warriors to you, ones strong in Earth, Water, and Air. They can help manage the weather and bring the nutrients in the soil closer to the surface." Fey with Earth magic could create food, but not on a scale large enough to feed Celieria for a winter. Aiding the world in performing its natural functions would produce greater results.

"And in return?”

"Cease your trade with Eld. Do not open the borders. That way is dangerous, the threat far greater than starvation, even if you do not see it.”

Dorian turned to Dax. "Lord Dax, I have known you and my aunt all my life. I trust and value your opinion, yet never once have either of you mentioned the possibility of a revived Mage threat in Eld. Why is that?”

Dax didn't answer. Instead, he looked at Rain.

"Marissya and Dax don't sense the darkness," Rain bit out. "Only I do.”

Dorian's expression went blank, as if a shutter had been drawn closed. "I see.”

"Marissya Truthspoke Rain before we left the Fading Lands," Dax said. "There is no doubt of his honesty."

"Forgive me," Dorian replied, "but as we all know, Truth- speaking only guarantees that the one being Truthspoken believes what he says. It doesn't guarantee that what he believes is true. The distinction may be small, but in this case vital—as I'm sure you agree, or we would not be having the conversation.”

Dax's gaze dropped. Fey did not lie. He could not dispute Dorian's conclusion.

Rain swallowed a bitter curse, hating the Celierian for his blind determination to believe the Eld and doubt the Fey. Hating himself for being unable to offer proof or control his temper long enough to make Dorian see reason. Hating the fear that perhaps Dax and Dorian were right, and there was no darkness, only Rain's old companion, insanity, toying with him again.

He couldn't say why he sensed what no one else did. He only knew he did. Perhaps it was all those Mage souls anchored to his own. Perhaps it was because he was a Tairen Soul, and they were not. Perhaps it was because he had spent seven hundred years tormented by madness, his mind a wide- open field upon which all the millions he'd killed trampled without restraint.

Whatever the cause, he knew he was right. Believed it with unswerving certainty. The Mages had regained their power, and the world was in danger once more.

"Believe me delusional if you like, King Dorian, but protect yourself in case I am not. Keep your borders closed. You've survived a thousand years without the Eld. Surely you can survive a few more. At least give me time to gather the proof you require.”

"I will consult my advisors. The Eld treaty is scheduled for debate in the Council of Lords next week. We will discuss your concerns, so the lords may take them into consideration before they cast their vote.”

"This is not a matter for your advisors and Council to decide, King Dorian," Rain countered. "The monarchy did not give up all of its power when the Council of Lords was established. Invoke
primus.
Make the decision yourself, and keep your borders closed.”

Dorian drew back.
"Primus
is a king's tool of last resort," he answered in a low voice. "It is not to be invoked except in cases of utmost urgency. To use it carelessly is to tread the path of tyranny.”

"Tyranny?" Rain echoed in disbelief. "It is not tyranny for a king to command the defense of his country and keep his borders closed to his enemies.”

Dorian shook his head and heaved a sigh. "You have been too long away, Rainier Feyreisen. The Eld are not the enemies they once were, and I will not invoke
primus
on the basis of groundless speculation and hard feelings. The Lords of Celieria will debate the issue." He held up a hand to forestall Rain's next objection. "And unless you can provide definitive proof to the contrary,
they
will make the decision, not I.”

Rain's jaw clenched. Had this fool heard nothing? The Eld were dangerous! They greeted you with friendship, wormed past your defenses, gained your trust, and only revealed the dagger of betrayal as it was plunged into your vitals. Darkness was growing in Eld. The Eld were once again forming ties to Celieria. And Rain had claimed a mate with a Celierian family. It was as if history were repeating itself, only this time the Fey might be too weak to prevail.

"Then think on it and have your debate, Dorian vel Serranis Torreval, but while you do, think also on this." His eyes narrowed, glowing so fiercely Dorian's face was bathed in lavender light. "If you open your borders to the Eld, you terminate your alliance with the Fey." With a final glare for Dorian and Dax, Rain spun on one booted heel and stalked out.

Dorian frowned after the Feyreisen's rapidly departing figure.

"The tairen are creatures of great power and great ferocity," Dax murmured. "So, likewise, are the Tairen Souls, and with them temper is always closer to the surface than with other Fey. It is worse for our king, because of
shei'tanitsa."
Dorian turned and gave Dax a cool look. "You should never apologize for your king.”

"I do not apologize, bond-nephew. I merely explain."

Ellie glanced at her escort of sword-bristling shadows and sighed. She'd hoped to enjoy a quiet outing in the park with her sisters before completing the rest of her day's obligations, but "quiet," it seemed, was a quality she'd lost when she'd inadvertently called Rain Tairen Soul out of the sky.

Despite her objections, all thirty of the warriors who'd accompanied her this morning had insisted on following her to the park as well. They'd posted themselves throughout the park and surrounding streets, drawing all manner of attention and increasing the crowds of curious bystanders. It was just as well Mama had stayed behind at the Grand Cathedral with Father Celinor to discuss the upcoming ceremonies in more detail and make her daily devotions. She'd have curled up in shame over the attention such a conspicuous Fey presence was drawing.

On the bright side, at least the twins were having fun. Earlier, Kieran had made them toys out of Earth magic—a little bear that walked and roared, a tiny kitten that sat in the palm of Lorelle's hand and meowed sweetly, a small yellow bird that tweeted when Lillis stroked its silky feathers. In return, the twins brought their own little gifts to Kieran—a gaily painted wooden top their father had made, a small rag doll with red yarn hair and green button eyes.

He accepted the gifts, to the girls' delight, and let the teasing of his fellow Fey roll off his back. He was courting a pair of infants, the warriors joked, and the infants were courting him back. Lorelle hadn't taken too kindly to being called an infant, and had promptly and fiercely set the record straight. The warriors now bowed and called her "Little Fey'cha" just as the blond warrior Kiel did, which seemed to suit Lorelle just fine. A delicate, tinkling laugh chimed, and Ellie groaned. The day had just gone from bad to worse. She tracked the familiar laugh back to a crowd of twittering local beauties drawn by all the handsome Fey warriors in the park. In the midst of the crowd stood Ellie's nemesis, the golden-haired, Fey- beautiful Kelissande Minset. Her large, limpid blue eyes, exactly the same pure blue as a summer sky, flirted beneath thick rows of fluttering brown lashes. The delicate heart- shaped face and lush red lips that had brought countless suitors calling over the years now smiled invitingly at the Fey.

Ellie couldn't prevent the stab of envy she felt any more than she could have stopped the pang of wistfulness. She had always longed for a complexion as smooth and creamy as the one Kelissande guarded beneath a wide-brimmed hat and delicate blue parasol, for a figure as petite and curvaceous as the one so exquisitely displayed in a form-fitting powder-blue gown of Capellan silk overlaid with delicate Elvian lace.

Ellie watched from the corner of her eye as Kelissande sauntered towards her. Ellie was instantly and painfully aware of the grass stains on her skirts, the sturdy woolen cloth and simple cotton of her navy dress and white chemise, and the unruly hair that had snuck free of its plait to wave in wild tendrils about her face.

"Hello, Ellie." Kelissande's voice was a honeyed whisper, a perfection of sound cultivated by years of speech tutoring. "Hello, Kelissande.”

"I heard the most amazing story," Kelissande announced, "but I didn't believe it was true until just now" She eyed Bel, Rowan, and Adrial and flashed them a beguiling smile. "People are saying that a Fey warrior has claimed you as his mate”

"The Feyreisen has claimed her," Bel corrected before Ellie could answer. "More than just a warrior." He took a step closer to Ellysetta.

She looked up at him in surprise. His face was expressionless, his eyes flat. That was when she became aware of the tension that tingled in the air. The humor that had danced so subtly between the warriors only moments before was Completely erased. Ellie blinked. The Fey were not watching Kelissande with the goggle-eyed admiration Ellie expected. Rather, they had once again affected the stone-faced demeanor that had become as much a hallmark of Fey warriors as the weapons that adorned them. How odd.

Kelissande appeared blithely unaware that she was surrounded by lethal killers. "The Tairen Soul? Isn't he the crazy one who almost destroyed the world?”

Irritation flashed. "He's not crazy." Ellie got to her feet. "Girls, would you like to play Stones?”

"Yes! Yes!" The twins jumped up and raced off to round up a group of local children.

"Will you join us, Kelissande?" Ellie asked politely, though only because she was certain of refusal.

The West End's reigning beauty did not disappoint her. Giving a delicate shudder, Kelissande declared, "And ruin my dress playing a silly child's game? Of course not. Unlike some girls I could name, I'm too mature for such nonsense.”

"That's right," Ellie murmured, her hand closing about the hilt of the dagger at her waist. "You're older than I am. Your twenty-fifth birthday is only a few weeks away, isn't it?”

"Four months," Kelissande snapped.

Ellie shook her head. "Who'd ever have thought I would be wed before you?”

"I'm still trying to decide which of my ten suitors to select." Kelissande closed her parasol with a quick jerk. "And who'd ever have thought you, Ellie Spindle-Shanks, would have any suitors at all? Let alone two. Of course, calling a crazy half-man and that loathsome little slug Den Brodson `suitors' may be a bit of a stretch.”