Eyes of the Alchemist (7 page)

“They have ruined the land they had, must they do the same to Cabrilan land?”

“They are teachers, mystics, scientists and artisans. We are farmers, hunters and soldiers. We can learn from each other and the mixed offspring will be strengthened in mind and body.”

“And what of your offspring, Lord Kavan?”

Kavan stopped pacing long enough to smile. “The destiny of my firstborn son is greatness.”

Someone laughed. “You’ve spent too much time in your dreaming chamber. Does Tiana know her firstborn will be a god?”

“Not yet. First I must woo her and win her.”

“That should not be too hard,” Rowena said, the malice in her voice sending heads turning her way. “The Truarc girl’s eyes gleamed with avarice when she set sight on your gift. You’ve put too much power in her hands and she will bring about your downfall with it.”

The spite in his mother’s voice caused Kavan’s eyelids to hood over. He’d watched the presentation of his gift, observed the respect Tiana paid his mother. He’d not expected opposition in public from Rowena and he didn’t intend to allow her to meddle in his business. “Tiana does not deserve your condemnation. She did not want to be here.”

 Rowena masked her eyes. “You should send the girl home to her father.”

“She only just survived the forces of the portal, I have no urge to risk her life again. Besides, the Truarc
High One
would be so insulted there would be no chance of reconciliation. Think on. They would breed enough of those abominable Pitilans to wipe out the entire Cabrilan race.”

A sword was unsheathed and held aloft to gleam in a shaft of sunlight. “The cowardly Truarc should learn to fight like men.”

Kavan sighed. “They have not had the nourishment or training to achieve the required stamina. They’re a peace loving people who rely on the intellectual to amuse themselves. It is we who must learn their ways and customs.”

“How?”

“Now I have opened a route to discussion and reconciliation I will send an emissary through the portal to consult with
The High One
. Rowena, come forward.”

Someone scorned. “She is a woman, and lacks the wisdom to negotiate. Send a man with diplomacy and presence, instead.”

“You who speaks ill of my care giver, step forward.”

There was an uneasy silence as Kavan gazed furiously about him. “Well, speak up,” he snarled. “He who has the courage to defy my will can challenge me as lord.” His glance came to rest on Javros.

Javros was a young man of much skill and grace, the son of Kavan’s chief advisor and the result of a successful coupling with a Truarc woman. He was cool-headed, courageous, and known for his charm and wit. Javros would be the first to admit he’d been spoiled by his mother’s absolute pride and admiration of him. Kavan had made plans for his advancement once he reached a degree of maturity.

Javros gave a guilty sigh. “I confess . . . it was I.”

“You wish to challenge my will on this?”

“Not by right of arms,” Javros murmured. “I’m not so foolish as I appear at this moment.”

A murmur of laughter rippled through the crowd. Encouraged, Javros bowed. “My words were spoken in haste. I apologize, my Lord Kavan. Punish me as you see fit, but not too hard. I wish to live long enough to see the results of your experiment – if it succeeds.”

Javros is over-confident, Kavan thought. Yet his popularity is such that too harsh a penalty will cause discontent. The old lord - Rowena’s husband - would have taken his life for such impudence. Kavan reminded himself that he was not cast in his stepfather’s mould. His blood was infused with the genes of the alchemist and the God, Arcus.

He had an insight and power his people only dreamed of, and much was still untapped. He would unite the world both physically and spiritually, and his union with Tiana would provide him with a son whose line would spread to the known universe and last forever.

Kavan knew well how to meet this challenge from Javros. The punishment would equal the crime. He exchanged an amused smile with Torma, his friend and most trusted brother-at-arms whilst Javros postured for the crowd. “I have decided to take your advice, Javros.”

A smug smile appeared on the young man’s face. He was too sure of himself, Kavan thought. “I shall send you as emissary to Truarc instead. You will practice diplomacy with
The High One
, and learn the art of seduction. You’re untried with women, I believe. Once you have mastered the technique of attraction you may return with a Truarc bride – but only if she accepts you willingly.”

“But, Lord . . .” Javros protested, his face turning red with embarrassment as the rest of the gathering began to laugh. “I was about to be initiated into manhood in the temple of pleasure.”

“That you will forgo unless you’d rather I took your sight instead. Present yourself to
The High One,
explain your mission to him and beg him to take you under his wing and teach you some manners. Reassure him that his daughter, Tiana, will not be badly treated. She shall remain untouched, and shall return to him in seven dawns if she so desires.” With Torma in tow he strode off towards the door, regretting his hastily spoken words.

“But, Sire,” someone called after him. “We will all be doomed if that happens. Tiana is chosen to make us strong.”

“So be it,” he called over his shoulder, knowing it would be a sign of weakness if he took his statement back – though he was certain he wouldn't have to send her home. “If the Cabrilan are to change I must set an example. Tiana must come to me willingly, or not at all. The choice is hers.”

“Is it, Lord?” Torma grunted at his shoulder.

Kavan grinned at him. “If I give the maid her head it will seem that way to her.”

He was counting on her to remember her duty as he left the assembly behind. She believed in the augur. What she didn’t know was the augur was controlled by his own mind, as the alchemist had once controlled it. He wondered if she’d encountered the alchemist’s spirit yet. The last time someone had disturbed him he’d altered the course of the water and flooded the village.

A vision of her anxious emerald eyes and long silvery hair stole into his thoughts and his mouth curved into a smile. He’d experienced conflicting emotions as soon as he’d set eyes on her. She was destined to be his lady. He was convinced of it, despite the counsel of his mother.

Tiana had recognized the undeniable awareness between them too. He’d seen it in her eyes. Yes, she was denying it to herself now, refusing to admit to the inevitable. Her early temple training had taught her to ignore the call of the flesh. It would be easy to take her but he’d seen too many Truarc maids die from rough treatment. Those who survived capture and settled down were those treated gently, like the mother of Javros. Truarc women made caring mothers.

Leaving Torma to guard his door he strode on to the battlements and gazed up at the High Place. Tiana’s sleep would be uneasy. The forest beyond the sanctuary was full of night creatures and their gibbering would disturb her sleep. Soon, the moon would move to the other side of the planet and she’d lose its light. All she would have for company then were the stars above her and the spirit of the alchemist, whose body was preserved in a crystal tomb behind the fall.

And the Pitilan,
he reminded himself, grimacing. He hadn’t forgotten it, just pushed the problem of it to the back of his mind. The beast was a laboratory abomination, and as such had no part in the scheme of things. He’d been forced to make arrangements with the watchers to disable the creature. Then it would be killed. Before he brought the rift together, he would insist that all the Pitilan left on Truarc, and their gene bank, be destroyed.

He admitted that Tiana was not without courage in her defiance of him. Her tongue had a barbed edge to it, and she wouldn’t have willingly come through the portal if his hawk had not tricked her into it. He’d learned that threats were met by stubborn reasoning by her and wondered whether persuasion might be a better course to take. Her intelligence was based on a strong intuitive sense, as yet untapped.

The fact that she was a kindred spirit excited him, though he’d be the first to admit his own power was slowly being leached by the concentration needed for his task, plus the power of the pivot stone. There was also a strong possibility he’d be destroyed by the joining of the rift, which was why he needed to endow her with the means to produce the God child.

 A smile played around his mouth. To coax Tiana from the barrier she surrounded herself with and show her the wonders of
his
world would be a challenge. She would sense trickery and resist, pitting her wits against his. Not there was any doubt about the outcome. The silver-haired witch would be his eventually. It was written. He just hadn’t expected to have to work so hard for her trust.

“Seven dawns,” Kavan whispered, his flesh pricking with delight at the thought of a different chase. “I shall send you dreams to pleasure your nights, daughter of light.”

His voice spread across the lake in widening ripples, whispered upon the rocks below the fall and sent vibrations up through the crystal pipes.

The body of the alchemist shivered in his tomb.

As Tiana had promised herself, the next morning she bathed. Lowering her shivering body into a reed and fern-sheltered pool above the fall, she delighted in the feel of the cool, silky water, the race of goosebumps against her skin.

Dirt was dissolved by the application of scented sap of a wax flower. She started on her hair, massaging the sap to the roots until it foamed. When her hair squeaked with cleanliness she rinsed it, and standing, flicked the wet slick back over her head in a glittering arc of droplets. Every part of her was tingling and alive, as if her body sang a sweet melody.

The forest provided her with a sparse handful of nuts to eat, though she had to search for them. She found no fruit. She didn’t linger there very long and stayed on the outskirts. The dark interior hinted at danger, and the well-worn tracks might have been made by animals. It occurred to her that there might be better pickings further in, but she had no intention of exploring the interior until she’d studied it first. It was a pity her Pitilan couldn’t speak.

The sun was warm and a breeze teased the abundance of grasses. A touch of humidity made the air pleasant to breathe as she wove a short rope from the pliable fronds of grass and reeds she’d laid out to dry. Her intention was to weave a basket for her medicines. Already she’d discovered some pitcher plants that would be useful as containers when dried by the sun. This was indeed a land of promise and plenty. Once she found shelter she could stay indefinitely, and Atarta would protect her from danger.

“But how can you fulfill your purpose, and who will you heal if you stay here?” she asked herself a little later, thankful that the antidote for the Pitilan venom was safely in her pocket instead of back on Truarc in her sack. She’d never had to milk Atarta’s glands for it, and imagined it would be a messy and unpleasant business.

For part of the day she engaged in a fruitless search for shelter, then, growing bored, she kept watch on all that went on below. Pennants fluttered from the four towers of the manor, purple and black with a silver crescent moon. They seemed to be Kavan’s colors.

The crenulated walls of the manor were patrolled, the troopers using large magnifying telescopes to survey the skies and surrounding countryside. From what threat they guarded the population in this land of plenty she couldn’t imagine.

Inside the manor walls was a world of color and excitement. Drums beat, trumpets blared, and the troopers marched back and forth, or fought each other with practice swords. She searched the landscape for a sight of the portal, but to no avail. The land below the fall was thickly vegetated, it hid its secrets well.

In the town beyond the manor walls all was bustling. There seemed to be some sort of market place, and the sound of hawkers selling their wares carried clearly to her.

“Bread, straight from the baker’s oven.”

“Buy my wine, nectar of the Gods made from the finest grapes grown on Cabrilan.”

“Fish ... fresh fish,”
and Tiana - who’d tasted only dried fish, and remembered the taste of the sweet, juicy grapes her mother
Lynx
had given her, felt her mouth begin to water and her stomach growl. She could almost smell the hot, doughy fragrance of the bread, though she couldn’t remember ever having it straight from the oven.

She’d half-expected Kavan to visit, but night came without incident. The disappointment she felt was dismissed as vanity. Surely she could not be desirous of his company and attention. She put him from her mind, concentrating instead on making herself comfortable for the night. Though she’d searched in vain for a suitable shelter that day, no hiding place had been visible in the rock. She’d have to rely on her images to keep her safe and warm until her instinct lent her the courage to venture into the forest. She might be able to gather branches and fashion a hut of sorts if nothing else occurred to her.

She could try out the wishing dish!

Her glance fell on its protective box. Rowena had told her she could wish for anything she wanted. A manor like Kavan’s perhaps, with an army of troopers to go with it? Fine gowns and servants, food brought on platters and people at her beck and call? She laughed as her thoughts conjured up a wide river with her own personal barge on it. It would be decked out with satin fringes and tessellated hangings to keep her shaded from the sun. There would be a company of musicians and storytellers on board to keep her amused as she reclined on soft cushions eating grapes and other delicacies.

Her stomach rattled. Right now a bowl of hearty broth with a chunk of bread to sop up the juices would not go amiss.

Her foot nudged against the box and her smile faded. Such devices should not to be used for power or self-comfort, but for the good of those in need.

She sent the Pitilan off to hunt and settled herself for the night, tying one end of the rope she’d woven to her wrist, the other end to the sapling. She wrapped herself in Kavan’s cloak, her head pillowed on her arms. By harnessing her sub-thoughts, this time she knew the exact moment when she rose from the ground.