Dark Dreams (40 page)

‘Whether she was unconscious or not, it is clear she had the opportunity to call for help,’ Kinraid said. ‘We could have had the rebel leader arrested and awaiting you even now in the cells below!’

The vision of Reothe brought low was a pleasant one. But Tulkhan doubted if a mere prison cell could contain the T’En warrior for long.

Exasperation filled the General. How was he to defeat Reothe? No one alive today knew the extent of the Dhamfeer’s gifts. No one but Imoshen.

The thought drove him to action.

‘Where are you going?’ Kinraid asked.

Fury filled Tulkhan. He did not have to explain his actions to a man whose trade was treachery.

Seeing the General’s expression, Kinraid stepped aside and made an obeisance of apology.

The corridors were remarkably busy with servants. No, Imoshen was not in the library. No, she was not in any of the entertainment rooms, nor the kitchen or storerooms. Someone had seen her go out for a walk.

Tulkhan’s boots crunched on the fine white gravel path of the palace’s formal garden. What had Reothe said?

The one you love has the most power to hurt you.

Tulkhan felt a bitter smile twist his lips. Love. He had no time for that weakening emotion. He would be utterly calm and trick the truth from her. There she was, through the trees.

Imoshen tilted her head to study the fruit tree. According to the gardeners this blossom-laden bush would produce masses of stone fruit. Now, if she could only take a cutting and graft it onto their fruit trees back at the stronghold.

‘Imoshen!’

When she turned to face Tulkhan, his expression made her heart sink. But she waved and maintained her calm, snapping off a twig heavy with blossom before greeting him. ‘I think I’ll take some cuttings back home. They tell me not only is this tree exquisite in the spring, but it’s an excellent fruiter.’

‘Imoshen!’ He caught her by the shoulders. ‘You lied to me. You said Reothe knocked you out. But now I’m told you spoke with him.’

‘Your spies took this long to report that?’

He glowered and she cursed her unruly tongue.

‘You lied, Imoshen.’

‘I omitted to mention it. Reothe did knock me out and I don’t know how he did it.’ That still rankled. ‘But not before we talked.’

‘What about?’

It was time for the truth. With a twist she freed her shoulders and rubbed the imprint of his anger from her skin. ‘It was the eighteenth anniversary of my birthing day, the day I would have been bonded to Reothe. He came to see me, to ask me to go with him.’

Tulkhan blinked. She could tell he found the truth unpleasant but was not surprised.

‘What was your answer?’

‘I am here, aren’t T?’ Imoshen thumped his chest with enough force to let him know she was angry.

Tulkhan absorbed the blow but it appeared nothing would pierce his foul mood.

‘Why didn’t you call for help?’ he demanded. ‘We could have had Reothe arrested, awaiting execution even now.’

‘I doubt that.’

‘So you think a Mere-man couldn’t hold one of your kind?’

Imoshen hesitated. She had never seen Tulkhan so furious. Why was he referring to his people as Mere-men? Then she recalled that Reothe had used that term. Had Reothe planted a seed of doubt in the General’s mind to fester and finally destroy him?

Instinctively she lifted her hands to cup Tulkhan’s face, but he caught her arms, pulling them down. His strength, fuelled by rage, threatened to crush the small bones of her wrists. She gritted her teeth.

‘Don’t play your Dhamfeer tricks on me!’

‘On the contrary, I think Reothe may have played a trick on you.’ She kept her voice even. ‘I was going to search for a sign of him planting doubts in your mind.’

She felt Tulkhan shudder with revulsion before dropping her wrists.

‘I am not your enemy, General.’

‘If you wanted to convince me of that, you would have had Reothe lying in a cell when I came back.’

‘That is easy for you to say.’ A flush of warm, velvety anger rushed through her, leaving a metallic aftertaste on her tongue. ‘I am not Reothe’s equal. How many of your men would have died trying to restrain him?’

‘They would have died gladly for me.’

‘I am not so quick to order the deaths of others.’

Tulkhan flinched.

She lifted her hands, palm up. ‘General?’

‘What was he doing with you naked in his arms?’ The agony in his voice cut her.

‘I was not naked. The laces on my underdress were cut.’

Tulkhan snorted.

‘I don’t know what Reothe was doing. I wasn’t conscious. He used his gifts. Maybe he was planning to carry me out through the secret passage. In which case you can be glad the Keeper found us when he did.’

The General took a step back from her.

‘Tulkhan, please.’

‘Answers trip too easily off your tongue, Imoshen. From this day forward I will not be coming to your bed. I no longer trust you.’

It was the final blow. ‘Then you are lost, because I am the only one you can trust. I love you.’ It was torn from her.

She saw him flinch. Was her love such a terrible thing? His rejection felt like a physical blow. She almost staggered. ‘General?’

He turned on his heel and walked off.

Through a blur of unshed tears Imoshen watched the stiff angle of General Tulkhan’s broad shoulders as he walked away. He rounded the corner. As the blossoming trees obscured him from sight, her legs gave way and she sank onto the gravel path. The pain in her knees was nothing compared to the pain in her chest.

This was beyond repair. The General would never trust her again. By withdrawing from her he was sealing his fate and fulfilling Reothe’s prophecy of his death.

She stared at the gravel. The twig had fallen unnoticed from her hands. Crushed blossoms lay all around her, trampled into the stones, the fine petals destroyed. Everything she had worked and planned for might be destroyed before the tree could bloom again. If Tulkhan died, she no longer cared if she saw next spring’s blossoms.

When Imoshen returned to the palace, weary and desperate to rest, she found the General in their bedchamber. Servants scurried about packing his belongings.

She did not like having their private division witnessed by others. Imoshen met his gaze across the room.

‘I will move into my old bedchamber. I stay here only long enough to see my son born,’ the General informed her coldly.

Imoshen licked her lips. ‘Take a walk with me in the courtyard.’

He would have refused but she let him see that this was not an idle request. Aware of the curious glances of the servants, Imoshen led him outside.

‘Well?’ he prodded when she did not speak immediately.

‘I have not mentioned this before because I am not sure of things.’

‘No T’En riddles, Imoshen. Get to the point.’

She rounded on him. ‘I am not your Ghebite wife to be browbeaten and bullied.’ She paused to draw a calming breath. ‘To be frank, I don’t know when your son will be born. My mother carried me a full year from conception to birth. Your son is part T’En so it could take –’

‘You’re saying he might not be born until the Harvest Feast?’

Imoshen nodded and held Tulkhan’s eyes. His Ghebite features hid his thoughts too well. ‘Throwbacks like myself take a full year, eight small moons to develop.’

‘True-men babies take around six,’ Tulkhan remarked. ‘So you are saying the longer it takes, the more T’En my son will be?’

Imoshen registered his distaste but she would not give him the pleasure of knowing how much it hurt her.

Tulkhan turned away, surprising the servants who were openly watching them through the glass doors. He gestured angrily at them and they hurried back to their tasks.

It was already past the cusp of summer. His son would have been born any day now if he was a True-man. Tulkhan grimaced. Why had he denied the obvious? If the child was half Imoshen’s he would be half T’En – an alien creature like Reothe.

His boy might as well be his enemy’s son.

Tulkhan strode toward the doors.

‘Where are you going?’ Imoshen called.

He did not answer her, but flung the door open. ‘Don’t bother moving my things,’ he told the servants. ‘I leave to rejoin my men.’

They stared at him and then at Imoshen. Hastily recollecting themselves, they made quick obeisances and left the pair alone.

Tulkhan did not want to be alone with Imoshen. Just to look on her was agony.

‘You will leave me like this?’ Her voice was raw.

He gave her a cold look, closing himself away from her pain. ‘I leave as soon as I am ready.’

I
MOSHEN ALLOWED HERSELF
to hope when she received Tulkhan’s summons to the map-room, but as soon as she saw his grim expression she knew his heart was still set hard against her.

‘I’ve marked the passes. Are there any others?’ he demanded, indicating the Keldon Highlands.

Hiding her disappointment, Imoshen studied the map. ‘Only those two. The Greater Pass leads directly to T’Diemn and most trade travels that way. The Lesser Pass is a longer, more difficult route and is only used by small parties. The highland ravines are steep and treacherous. A traveller might wander for days trying to find their way. What are you planning?’

‘Fortifications. Once I control the passes I can monitor the comings and goings of the Keldon nobles, stop their trade if need be. The highlands are not rich and fertile. If I choose, I can make life very harsh for the Keld. Let them decide between fresh supplies and supporting the rebels!’

Imoshen hesitated. ‘They are a proud people, used to austerity.’

‘What would you have me do, Imoshen? Repeat the mistake of your ancestor, march into one of their villages, demand they give up Reothe and his rebels? Execute the villagers until the survivors cooperate?’

She shook her head, horrified.

‘That is the alternative. Unless you have changed your mind about doing a scrying. No?’ His expression was calculating. ‘Then we’ll do what you suggested. Send Reothe a message. Tell him you’ll meet him, only I will go in your stead. I’ll ambush him before he can reach the rendezvous. He need never know you betrayed him.’

At that moment Imoshen realised she would never betray Reothe. She might fear him and mistrust him but he was her kinsman, the last of her kind. She could not lure him to his death.

‘It would not work. Reothe would know if I was not waiting for him.’

‘I see.’ Grimly Tulkhan rolled up the map. ‘By closing the passes I contain the rebels’ raids. That will reassure the people south of T’Diemn. I ride now.’ But he stood silently looking at her.

Imoshen lifted her hands. ‘If you would only trust me –’

She winced as a bark of laughter escaped him.

‘I might be a barbarian, Imoshen, but that does not mean I am a fool. Bring me Reothe’s head in a basket; only then will I trust you!’

Nausea roiled in her belly.

With a curse Tulkhan was gone.

She sank into the seat, too stunned to think. Absently she stroked the scriber Tulkhan had been toying with, sensing his determination. If Reothe were foolish enough to bring a large force to attack the fortresses, neither side would gain. But why would Reothe wait until the fortifications were completed? Why not attack while the men were vulnerable?

Imoshen knew Tulkhan did not intend to return until the fortresses were finished and manned. This would take until autumn, maybe even early winter. She could hardly believe Tulkhan would desert her before the birth of his son, yet she had been told it was the Ghebite custom to segregate women at this
unclean
time.

How she hated everything Ghebite!

Chapter Seventeen

T
HE DAYS OF
summer passed. In a kind of stupor, Imoshen slept and ate mechanically, while the baby writhed inside her as if impatient to be free. It had reached its highest point under her ribcage but had yet to drop, so she had no relief from the pressure. She was always weary.

Imoshen dozed, dreaming she was back home at Umasreach Stronghold where her family were celebrating the imminent birth. It would be a great event. The Aayel had been giving her wise advice on handling the contractions.

A great foreboding gripped her and she awoke, her heart hammering. Was something going to go wrong with the birth? Why did she feel such a sense of dread?

She needed the scrying plate to help her focus. Imoshen was torn between her need to know and her fear of scrying, but the sense of foreboding won out. She strode to her chest, the only thing that was truly hers in all the palace, and rifled through it.

Merkah should not have touched her scrying plate. Imoshen hugged it to her chest, affronted. She took the plate to the bathing room to run a little water in it. Pricking her thumb with her dagger, she squeezed two droplets onto the water: one drop of blood for her soul, one for her son’s. The drops hit the water’s surface, spreading into whirls.

The spiral of fine blood drew her gaze to the plate. It had never done that before. She’d better focus on the birth, but the reflections held her captive.

General Tulkhan... She saw him astride his horse, supervising the earthworks of the fortification. The ground was treacherous, the pass steep. He swung down from his mount to consult with the engineers.

Imoshen watched the breeze lift his dark hair. She wanted to touch him. It was a physical need. But she mustn’t give in to it. He might sense her.

The water’s surface shimmered. She was still looking at Tulkhan, but this time he faced death. His men fell around him, poorly protected by the half-finished fortress. Why didn’t they try to defend themselves? Rebels leapt over the walls crying Reothe’s name.

Reothe!

Too late, she could not stop the thought. The plate already shimmered. Imoshen knew she should not look, but it held an awful fascination. Reothe stood by a hot spring. He appeared to be alone except for a child of about eight. From this angle it was hard to tell if the little one was male or female.

Both of them paused and turned towards Imoshen. Reothe’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. But it was the child’s gaze Imoshen could not hold. They were the oldest eyes she’d ever seen. With cold shock she knew she was looking into the eyes of one of the Ancients.