Everlasting (19 page)

Kira held her breath. “And?”

“He said he'd think about it. Kira, it's only a possibility. There aren't any real certainties in this world, only possibilities. You can't make choices for the people you love, but you can sometimes expand those choices and offer them alternatives.”

Kira's face was illuminated with excitement.

“They'll come. I know they'll come. Oh, Zack, I was so worried about them.”

“There's no guarantee that if they do come, they'll stay. This is their homeland and they may become restless and want to return to it,” Zack said. “You have to face facts, Kira.”

“But by that time maybe the war will be over and they'll at least be safe.” Kira slipped into his arms and burrowed her head in his chest. “But can you get the whole tribe out of Tamrovia?”

“It would take a major airlift. I guess I'd better tell Dubliss to stay put in Switzerland for a while,” Zack said, his voice threaded with humor. “I don't think we could get them to leave either their wagons or their horses behind. But the airlift is a definite possibility. I got Paulo to chart their new location on my map, and I told him he could send word through Sandor anytime he felt the need to take a little hunting trip.”

“I want to go to Montana as soon as we get back,” Kira said eagerly. “I'll take hundreds of pictures of mountains and streams and bighorn sheep and send them to Paulo and Marna.” She
glanced up, her eyes twinkling. “A letter bombardment seemed to work pretty well for Marna with you. Now we'll just see how she likes it.”

Zack nodded. “A masterly plan, love. We'll deluge them with choices and hope they'll make the one that will suit us best.”

“Is that an Indian philosophy?” Kira grinned.

“No, the Indian part of me is looking askance at such contrivance.” Zack shrugged. “But what can you expect from someone who is neither fish nor fowl?”

She went still. “I know what I expect,” she said slowly. “I expect what you always give me: Honestly, strength, intelligence, patience, affection, loyalty… Shall I go on?”

He shook his head. “Much as I appreciate the accolades you're heaping on me, I think we'd better dispense with them for the moment. We've been here too long already. We'd better head for the helicopter.”

“A few more minutes won't hurt.” She leaned back in his arms to look up at him. “I think there are a few things we should get straight. When I first saw you I thought you were the strongest,
most confident man I'd ever laid eyes on. I still think that, but I believe you have one major hang-up, Zack.”

His eyes studied her face. “And what is that?”

“The same one that's been the bane of my existence all these years. My damn title.” She lifted her hand to stop him as he began to speak. “No, I know you don't have any desire to gain status through it, but it's a bugaboo just the same. I think my title intimidates you.”

“Intimidates?”

“Remember when you told me about discounting the possibility that a princess and a half-breed could ever really get together, when Marna first told you about the
mondava?
You didn't even question that reaction. And why didn't you go after me when you decided you wanted me, instead of waiting for Marna to serve me up to you on a silver platter?” She drew a deep breath. “And why haven't you asked me to marry you? I know you love me. You were angry when you thought I wasn't going through with the
mondava
, but you never even suggested that we be linked together in a ceremony joining us in the eyes of the world. In
some ways, I think you never recovered from those experiences that scarred you as a child.” She paused deliberately. “You're a half-breed, and a bastard, and heaven only knows who some of your antecedents were, Zack Damon. You're also the finest, most wonderful man I've ever met. So who the hell
cares?”

“There's a possibility you may be right about my hang-up. I guess I never thought about it. I just reacted.” Zack was looking at her with eyes glowing with intensity. “Who the hell cares?” he echoed thickly. “Will you marry me, Kira?”

“You bet I will.” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him ecstatically. “Oh, Zack, I do love you so much. I was afraid you might be going to turn noble on me and want to leave me free or something. There's been so much talk of that lately.” She kissed him. “Now listen carefully. I do
not
want to be free. I want to belong to you and to have you belong to me. I know that you would never try to stifle me, just as I would never try to stifle you.” Her gaze was fixed earnestly on his face. “But I want the marriage tie between us. I believe in it. Call it the
mondava
or
just plain love. It exists, Zack, and it will exist for the rest of our lives.”

“I know.” He leaned forward to kiss her gently. “And even longer than the rest of our lives. The everlasting bonding. We're very lucky to have found it, and we'd be damned fools to risk losing it.” He kissed her again with a power and passion that was a shining promise. Then he lifted his head and his voice was a little unsteady. “I love you, Kira. I'll love you forever.”

The moment was so fraught with beauty and meaning that she couldn't speak.

At last he released her. “More later,” he said with a low, husky laugh. He took her elbow. “Now, let's get out of here before Naldona's soldiers come breathing down our necks.”

He didn't speak again until they had lifted off and were flying north over the dark forests and moonlit ribboned streams. He glanced at her searchingly. “You're very quiet. Are you very unhappy about leaving your home?”

Kira lifted her eyes from the rolling panorama below. Yes, it was sad to be leaving, particularly when she wanted so desperately to help Tamrovia.
Yet Zack had said there would be ways for them to help in the struggle, and she knew together they would find those ways. In the final analysis, from now on wherever Zack was, her home would be, just as she would be the lodestone of his existence.

She held out her left hand and he took it and clasped it with warm, comforting strength.

“I'm not leaving home.” She smiled at him lovingly. “I'm going home, Zack. I'm
going
home.”

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MAY 3, 1196

FORTRESS OF MAYSEF

NOSAIRI MOUNTAINS

SYRIA

HIS POWER WAS WANING, fading like that blood-red sun setting behind the mountains.

Jabbar Al Nasim's fists clenched with fury as he gazed out at the sun sinking on the horizon. It should not be. It made no sense that he should be so afflicted. Weakness was for those other fools, not for him.

Yet he had always known it would come. It had even come for Sinan, the Old Man of the Mountain. But he had always been stronger than the old man in both mind and spirit. Sinan had bent before the yoke, but Nasim had prepared for it.

Kadar
.

“You sent for me, master?”

He turned to see Ali Balkir striding along the battlements toward him. The man's voice was soft, hesitant, and he could see the fear in his face. Nasim felt a jolt of fierce pleasure as he realized the captain had not detected any loss of power. Well, why should he? Nasim had always been master here, in spite of what outsiders thought. Sinan might have been the King of Assassins, feared by kings and warriors alike, but Nasim had been the one who had guided his footsteps. Everyone here at the fortress knew and groveled at his feet.

And they'd continue to grovel. He would not let this monstrous thing happen to him.

Balkir took a hurried step back as he saw Nasim's expression. “Perhaps I was mistaken. I beg your forgiveness for intrud—”

“No, stay. I have a task for you.”

Balkir drew a relieved breath. “Another attack on the Frankish ships? Gladly. I brought you much gold from my last journey. I will bring you even more this—”

“Be silent. I wish you to return to Scotland where you left Kadar Ben Arnaud and the foreigners. You are to tell him nothing of what has transpired here. Do not mention me. Tell him only that Sinan is claiming his price. Bring him to me.”

Balkir's eyes widened. “Sinan? But Sinan is—”

“Do you question me?”

“No, never.” Balkir moistened his lips. “But what if he refuses?”

Balkir was terrified, Nasim realized, and not of failing him. Nasim had forgotten that Balkir was at the fortress at the time Kadar underwent his training; Balkir knew how
adept Kadar was in all the dark arts. More adept than any man Nasim had ever known, and Kadar was only a boy of ten and four when he came to the mountain. How proud Sinan had been of him. What plans he had made for the two of them. He had never realized Nasim had plans of his own for Kadar.

All wasted when Kadar had left the dark path and rejected Sinan to live with the foreigners. What a fool the Old Man had been to let him go.

But it was not too late. What Sinan had lost, Nasim could reclaim.

If Kadar did not die as the others had died.

Well, if he died, he died. Kadar was only a man; it was the power that was important.

“He won't refuse,” Nasim said. “He gave Sinan his word in exchange for the lives of the foreigners.”

“What if he does?”

“You
are
questioning me,” Nasim said with dangerous softness.

Balkir turned pale. “No, master. Of course he won't refuse. Not if you say he won't. I only—”

“Be gone.” Nasim waved his hand. “Set sail at once.”

Balkir nodded jerkily and backed away from him. “I will bring him. Whether or not he wishes to come I will force—”

The words cut off abruptly as Nasim turned his back on him. The man was only trying to gain respect in his eyes. He would have no more chance against Kadar if he tried to use force than he would against Nasim, and he probably knew it.

But he wouldn't have to use force. Kadar would come. Not only because of his promise but because he would know what would result if he didn't. Sinan had spared the lives of Lord Ware, his woman, Thea, and the child Selene and given them all a new life in Scotland. Nasim had permitted the foolishness because he had wanted to keep Kadar safe until it was time to use him.

But no one would be more aware than Kadar that the safety Sinan had given could always be taken away.

Kadar had shown a baffling softness toward his friend Lord Ware and a stranger bond with the child Selene. Such emotions were common on the bright path, but Nasim had taught Kadar better. It seemed fitting that he be caught in his master's noose because he'd ignored his teachings.

The fortress gate was opening and Balkir rode through it. He kicked his horse into a dead run down the mountain. He would be in Hafir in a few days and set sail as soon as he could stock his ship, the
Dark Star
.

Nasim turned back to the setting sun. It had descended almost below the horizon now, darkness was closing in. But it would return tomorrow, blasting all before it with its power.

And so would Nasim.

His gaze shifted north toward the sea. Kadar was across that sea in that cold land of Scotland, playing at being one of them, the fools, the bright ones. But it would be just a matter of months before he would be here. Nasim had waited five years. He could wait a little longer. Yet an odd
eagerness was beginning to replace his rage and desperation. He wanted him here
now
.

He felt the power rising within him and he closed his eyes and sent the call forth.

“Kadar.”