Gemworld (29 page)

He paused again and gathered a shaky breath. “I was so wrong, and pray His forgiveness every day. This was no more a curse than I made of it. Once I realized that... once it was shown to me... I began to see just what good can come of it.” He turned his granite orbs to Reit, and for a moment, Reit could almost see a clarity in them, just beyond the black-flecked surface. He balled up his fists, quenching the cold, smoky flames. “I am more than I was, Reit, and I have you to thank. You and your Cause.

“Tell me, will you always deny your royal blood?”

Reit was taken aback. This was not why he had come out here. He’d envisioned nothing more than a short chat, a bit of encouragement toward a member of his rebellion that Retzu had mentioned was a bit out of sorts lately. He’d especially wanted to talk to him about Sal, and the way he’d been hovering over his missing friend’s memory. He didn’t expect... whatever this was turning out to be. “What do you mean?” he asked warily.

“For quite a while, I looked up to Sal. Without his—if you’ll pardon the pun—’singular vision’, his ability to look beyond what we take for granted, I never would have gained what little control over my magic as I have now. Sal, the other-worldly stranger, the diamond mage, the most unique man in his world, and he follows
you
. I still miss my friend, and I will see him again, make no mistake about it. But he wouldn’t be my friend—
none
of the people here would be—if not for you,
el
’
Yatza
.”

Reit watched in horror as his most dreaded nightmare came alive before him. Keth, the granite he’d rescued from a life of slavery that he’d sworn to rid the world of, dropped his arms and went down on one knee. He bowed his head, intoning the words that would once again strip him of his freedom. “Reit Windon du’Nograh, I swear fealty to you, in the presence of the Crafter and all His creation, the Prophets and all their wisdom, the Abyss and the evil it wields against the world. I am yours to command, until my last breath is drawn from me.”

Reit stood in shocked silence for a moment, his mouth working without sound. He’d never wanted a kingdom, a rulership. He didn’t want people to do battle in his stead. He didn’t want people to die in his name. He hadn’t wanted
any
of this! All he wanted was a land where he and Delana could raise up children to the Crafter, some place where he knew his young ones would grow up safe from harm. He never asked to be
el
’
Yatza
. Damn the day he’d ever let the first person call him that!

Keth remained kneeling, reaching up to Reit with a look, with outstretched hands, begging for acceptance of his fealty. So sincere the oath, so genuine the man...

“I accept your oath,” Reit said before he could stop himself, his voice on the verge of breaking. “I likewise pledge to you what protection I have, what humble lands I occupy, what blessings I can muster in the name of the Crafter.” Reit’s mouth seemed to work of its own accord, spewing out the recitation doggedly as he tried to clamp his teeth shut. It was as if he had no control over his faculties. The words continued to tumble out in perfect harmony to Keth’s oath. “Rise, brother, and take your place at my side, at the side of my armies, at the side of my friends.”

Keth put his hands on his knee and pushed himself up, his face beaming with a brilliance that could never be magical. Even the all-powerful arcane arts had their limitations.

With as much dread as he’d accepted Keth’s oath, Reit spoke again. “As your liege lord, I need you here, now, with your adopted family, fighting for the Cause and anything that might hinder it. I must ask you to give up on Sal for the moment. He may very well be alive, but we do not know where he is, and we could not risk the Cause to mount a rescue even if we did. I must ask that you give him over to the Crafter’s care, to do with as He Wills, and to be at peace, knowing that greater Hands than yours hold his fate.”

***

Nestor cast his eyes to the right and left in amazement. The area was completely
flooded
with auric signatures, especially violet and green. It seemed his suspicions were confirmed. The granite signature they’d encountered a few miles back had been the rogue, apparently playing the rearguard for the rebels. He felt the aura—hours fresher than the rest—directly beneath his feet, racing off toward the northernmost reaches of the Aedenlee Foothills, perhaps climbing into the Icebreaks themselves. Nestor studied the aura for a moment, taking its scent as a gamehound might the trail of a wounded deer. If Nestor was any judge, the rogue had not become one with the earth until long after the other rebels had departed. He remained for a few hours, long enough to sense the approaching granite detachment, and then fled at breakneck speed.

Strange, though, to think that an untrained granite could advance so far in his skills as to sense Nestor’s detachment. Granted, Nestor had almost a platoon with him—enough to produce a sizable aura, noticeable for leagues in every direction—but the rogue should not have been able to sense them, given his lack of education…

“Chief General,” came one of the men under him. Achimas, his second.

“Commander?” Nestor acknowledged.

“Request permission to set up camp, sir.”

“You do realize what it is that I am standing on?”

The question was, of course, rhetorical, but Nero Achimas had never been one to take a hint. “Yes sir. It’s the trail of the rogue granite, running in the same general direction as the amethyst auras. But the men are tired, sir. We’ve been one with the earth for almost a full day without rest.”

Nestor sighed, but said nothing.

Achimas took this as a good sign. “The path is fresh, no more than half a day old. If we were to set up camp, and leave out after fourth watch, I’m confident that we could reach them by first watch tomorrow.

Nestor leaned his head back and gazed directly at the powder blue moon, though he knew exactly what time it was. He just needed to look somewhere other than the mage that suggested he let the rebels go for one more night.

“It’s first watch now, halfway to second. Set up camp, and order only one guard per watch.” He paused for a second, then added, “You take First.”

Achimas faltered only slightly before replying. “By your command, Chief General.”

Nestor smiled to himself as Achimas turned away. Try as he might, the Onatae hadn’t been able to hide his irritation at being handed such a menial task as manning watch. So much the better, Nestor thought.

He cast his eyes around, and found a likely pair of trees near the center of what would soon be camp. As he leisurely made his way over, he felt the twinge and pull of long knotted muscles, and decided that Achimas’ suggestion was timely. He shouldered out of his pack and set it on the ground, untying the leather straps and pulling forth a linen tarp and a length of rope. He stretched the rope between the two trees at about waist level, then hung the tarp. He went around to either side of the makeshift tent, pulling the tarp to center, then wielded stakes into the edges. He examined the blue-black iron stakes, and when he was satisfied that they held the tent secure, he stretched out inside the tent and closed his eyes.

“Chief General?”

He sighed, and lay still for a second more before shuffling back out of the tent. “Yes, Jaeda?”

“I’m sorry, sir. If you’d rather I come back...?”

“No, not at all, my dear. Please sit.”

“Thank you, sir. If I may be so bold, I noticed that you haven’t eaten yet. I wanted to know if you would share my dinner.”

Nestor allowed himself a secret smile, but said, “You know the protocols involving Guards of superior rank, so I won’t quote them to you.”

“Thank you, sir. I grow tired of being quoted rules that were meant for men and women who have no control of their own faculties.”

“You
are
insubordinate, aren’t you, Jaeda?” he said, though his smirk belied his words. She said nothing, only offered a quirky grin and awaited his answer.

“Yes, Jaeda, I think I’d like dinner. But only if you call me ‘Nestor’.”

“Of course, Chief General,” she said playfully.

***

Though they only at trail rations, Nestor felt as if Jaeda had prepared the meal from scratch, working love and attention into each bite. Dinner quickly gave way to small talk, and small talk in turn to deep conversation. They talked long into second watch, long enough to see the watchman circle the camp to wake his relief.

“Have you never wanted for more out of life?” he asked his dinner companion, waving his hand languidly over the camp. “More than this?”

“Absolutely,” she replied in earnest. “I can’t tell you the number of times I wished that I could just drop everything and take up a husband, make fat babies with him and live long and deliriously happy lives. But we were given... this,” she added with a sigh, raising her outstretched hand and forming a sphere with her granite magics. “Our lives are vastly different from those of the other Tiles. Only a granite can truly understand a granite, which poses the problem. Either you go rogue to follow your heart, or you run into ‘protocol’.”

Nestor nodded his agreement. “You really are far more mature than most women I... procure to service my needs.”

“I’ll wager that most women you ‘procure’ do not understand the granite heart. But then again, you are not ‘procuring’ me.”

“Hah! I’ll grant you that,” he said with a laugh. “But I wonder, would such a request displease you?”

Jaeda was silent for a moment, a strange smile on her face. She was indeed beautiful—as a granite might measure beauty—and growing more so with every passing moment that Nestor spent with her. She had such a vitality, such a
spirit
that spoke to his heart that he saw right past the orange skin, yellow underlying bone structure, black orbs rimmed with a brownish aura. He saw right down into her soul—a rare thing for one of his Tile—and he enjoyed the experience.

“No, it wouldn’t displease me,” she answered finally, then quirked an eyebrow and added, “but such a request will not be granted tonight. My mother raised me better than that.”

“I’m sure she did. If I declared my intentions...?”

“I’m not so easily seduced, my lord.”

“Of course,” he said, disappointed but contented anyway.
My lord
, she’d said. Yes, contented indeed.

“
Are
you declaring your intentions, Nestor?” she added when he said nothing more.

The question was so forward, so unexpected and yet so
Jaeda
, that he was taken aback. He’d never been put to the question, never been given pause by
any
woman. But as the thought formed in his mind, another came riding on its heels. Jaeda was not just any woman.

“Yes,” he said confidently. “Yes, I am declaring my intentions, and to the Abyss with protocol.”

“Good,” she said victoriously. “I was thinking you’d never come around. And I accept your declaration, Nestor, for better or for worse. May the Crafter bless our commitment, and see fit to bless whatever relationship comes of it. Now, if we may dispense with ritual...” Jaeda leaned across the ashes of their fire and kissed him, long and full in the mouth. Nestor was awash with the taste of her, the scent of her, the soft give of her lips and the solid, probing insistence of her tongue. The contact filled every sense, every
thought
, until, all too soon, it was gone, and he felt empty.

“It’s getting late, and the end of fourth watch comes early. I need to be getting back to my tent,” Jaeda said as she stood, slowly yet deliberately. Nestor said nothing,
trusted
himself to say nothing, and watched her with a gnawing hunger to relive the past few seconds as she turned to leave.

“And Nestor?” she said, pausing in her steps to look back over her shoulder. “Dream of me.”

***

You can’t be serious!
Gaelen tapped out to Jaeda.

Absolutely
, she responded.
I’ll have him so tightly wound that he won’t know which way is up
.

Are you sure that you’re capable of betraying his trust? I mean, he’s not Keth
...

Stop that
.

...
but at the same time, you’re not entirely evil, even for a granite
, he added jokingly. His concern was valid, of course. Jaeda had never been the type of woman to overtly manipulate a man’s heart. Even as a lass, she had the softest heart of any that he knew. It was the greatest irony that she would find herself attuned to Granite.

I’ll be fine, trust me,
she assured.
Just make sure that your people target the south side of the line
.

Gaelen had felt the pulses of her magic for years, tapping out her messages to him, and he’d grown to where he could tell her mood by the quality of the pulse. And what he felt through all that bravado concerned him. She could say what she wanted, but she was invested in this man, Nestor. Even after only one night, one
fraction
of a night, her heart was his. How could she hope to betray him as she claimed? How could Gaelen trust that she would?