WINDHEALER (13 page)

Drake's beefy face flooded with color. His lips drew back with a feral grimace. "There's more than one way to take him, you know!" His fingers went to the handle of his whip.

Brelan jerked the bigger man to his feet, pulling Drake so close he could feel the man's body heat against him. "You better mean the business end of that whip. If you try doing something else to this man, you'll be on the receiving end of whatever you had planned!"

Drake wrenched free and backed away, his eyes full of spite. "You poking him, are you?" His lips twisted with malice. "He's a good lay, ain't he?"

Again, if Drake had seen the fist coming, he might have ducked. He didn't have time. He was out cold before he heard Brelan's grunt of animal fury.

Conar stared down at his tormentor. He was aware of his brother standing, trembling beside him, but he didn't need to look into Brelan's face to know the extent of his outrage.

"Get to your hut," Brelan hissed through clenched teeth. "And for the love of Alel, stay clear of this madman!"

"What's wrong, dearling," King Legion A'Lex asked his wife as he sat beside her on the fountain's rim. He put his arm around her and brought her close to him.

"I'm worried about them, Milord," Liza told him. "Nothing can go wrong. Nothing. Brelan has to bring them home."

He smiled. "Did I ever tell you about the time Galen hung Conar upside down out in the forest and no one knew where he was?"

A hesitant laugh broke through the worry on Liza's lovely face. "Galen?"

"Aye." He took one of her hands and brought her wrist to his lips, placed a light, feathery kiss on her flesh, then laid her hand on his thigh, entwining his fingers with hers.

"How did he manage that?" she asked, intrigued.

"Galen wasn't as ineffectual as most people would have thought." Legion chuckled. "Especially Conar. He always thought Galen was a sissy."

"He never trusted him."

"And with good reason." Legion laughed. It was a mark of the passing of time that they could speak of Conar without sadness and the grief that had once surrounded them when his name was spoken.

"What happened?"

Legion grinned. "They might have been all of four, five years old, I think. Anyway, they sneaked out of the keep, alluded their nanny and set out for Lake Myria to gather blueberries for their mama. There used to be this old gamekeeper's shack near the road leading to Activa. It was torn down not long afterward, but the two of them decided to snoop inside the place." He looked over the garden, the smile lingering on his face. "Conar wasn't afraid of anything, but Galen wouldn't go pass the doorway after he heard some hissing sounds."

"Snakes?"

"Rodents, more than likely. At any rate, Conar, probably wanting to show off, went inside. While he was in there, a section of the wall caved in, it was in terrible shape anyway, and he got a conk on the noggin' that knocked him out."

"Was he hurt?"

Legion shrugged. "I would imagine he had a pretty fair headache when he woke up, but considering where he was when he did, I think he was more angry than hurt."

"What did Galen do?"

The smile left Legion's face. "You remember Galen. He never really had the same feelings for Conar the rest of us did. I believe he thought Conar was either dead or dying; he couldn't wake him, you see. He told Cayn later that Conar was as white as a sheet. But he managed to drag Conar part way out of the cottage, no small feat for a little boy."

"Why didn't he just run for help?"

"Who knows? Maybe he thought Papa would think he'd been responsible. So, instead of going back to the keep, he found a rope and tied Conar's feet, looped the rope over a timber of the roof and pulled Conar off the ground."

Liza's mouth dropped. "How did he manage? Conar would have been dead weight."

Legion chuckled. "Desperation can make you do many things; he thought he was helping."

"How?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

"When you hang upside down, the blood rushes to your head, right? Conar was white as a sheet, so I guess Glane thought if he got the blood flowing in Conar's face, he'd wake up."

Liza shook her head. "Childlike thinking, I suppose."

"Galen still couldn't wake Conar so he decided he'd get help. The trouble was, Hern caught him coming back and turned him over to his nanny. You can imagine what Hern probably said to the brat. Galen went stubborn on them. When Hern asked him where Conar was, Galen said he didn't know. Papa sent out a search party, but no one thought to look in the old gamekeeper's cottage." A glimmer of amusement lit Legion's blue eyes. "No one, that is, except Brelan."

"But he couldn't have been more than six or seven!"

"But you have to remember, Brelan wasn't like the rest of us. He'd roam around the keep and the outbuildings as though he owned all of it. The little bugger got more whippings than you could shake a stick at, but that didn't keep him from mischief. If he wanted to do something, he
always
did it. He set out looking for Conar and, like he told me later, he knew he'd be the one to find him."

"Were they at odds back at that age?"

"They were at odds from the day Brelan sneaked into the nursery and crammed Conar's mouth full of cheese."

"Cheese?"

Legion chuckled. "Conar was just nine months old. He'd been crying all day, probably teething, and Brelan thought he was hungry, so he fed him." Legion's eyes misted with tears. "Nearly choked Conar to death! I can still see him running away from Conar's nanny, just as fast as his little legs would carry him."

"What did your father do?" She was laughing.

"Beat the shit out of Brelan. I think that's where all the trouble between Brelan and Conar started." He looked at her. "To this day, Brelan will tell you he was only trying to help his brother."

"Did he get Conar down? From the timber?"

"No. As a matter of fact, by the time Brelan found him, Conar was awake, and not at all happy. I guess Conar thought Brelan had been the one who'd strung him up and I'd wager he said a few things Brelan took exception to. So, Brelan made matters worse."

"How?"

Legion grinned. "He set Conar to swinging and ran off."

Liza made an unladylike snort. "Oh, my. I can just see him doing it, too!"

"By the time Hern found Conar, the brat was furious. He demanded Papa…" Legion held up his hand and began to tick off items on his fingers "…beat Brelan within an inch of his life, incarcerate him in the deepest part of the dungeon where all the beasties live, feed him on stagnant water and moldy bread, then behead him."

"What did your Papa do?"

"Again, beat the shit out of Brelan and then made him apologize to Conar. You can imagine how well
that
went over with Bre!"

"I'm surprised Conar didn't go after him once he was able."

"He went after the real culprit—Galen." A gleam entered Legion's eye. "Then Brelan went after Galen. And then…" He shrugged. "I went after Galen."

"You bully!"

"I was the oldest, and being the oldest, it was
my
responsibility to keep them all in line!"

"Who told you that?"

Legion blushed. "No one actually told me. I just assumed it was my duty."

She smiled. "Thank you, Milord."

"For what?"

"For trying to take my mind off Brelan's mission."

Legion cupped her face in his hands. "He'll be all right, dearling." He kissed her forehead, her nose. "And he'll bring them home safely. Just wait and see."

Liza pressed her head against his chest, closing her eyes to the steady, comforting sound of his beating heart. "I pray you're right." Her eyes strayed to the seagate.

It was Conar who told her of the legend of the garden, the tale of the Rose and the Thorn. In her mind, she had become the rose bereft, alone, her head drooping from the loss of the thorn's support. And he…he had become the thorn. Stripped of all he held dear; love, honor, even life.

It seemed fitting that the winter chill had withered the thorn bush the year he died. It no longer grew in the garden, but she refused to allow the gardener to remove the dead bramble.

"Sweeting?"

"I'll be fine." She snuggled against his warmth. "You will be careful in Jedry, Milord?"

"I will." He kissed the top of her head. "You will take care of yourself while I'm gone?"

She nodded, missing him already. She scanned his dear face. His thick hair was gunmetal gray now, his blue eyes not as clear as they once had been, but then they had seen much sorrow. His beard was thick with gray, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. His shoulders were still wide, proudly held, and his waist was as trim as ever, his belly as flat and hard, but there was a subtle aging to Legion A'Lex that time had not put upon him.

He still made her knees weak and her belly quicken with longing when he gazed at her, as he was doing now. She blushed as one gunmetal gray brow rose in challenge.

"Lady, you have this knack of looking at me in a way that scalds my soul." He lowered his lips to hers and tasted the sweetness lingering there. "Will you send your warrior off into the cold with no passion to warm his bones?"

Liza smiled. "My warrior was well-warmed last eve, Milord."

Legion shook his head. "I have not forgotten and well you know it." He kissed her again, letting his lips linger on hers, drawing heaven from the fullness of her coral mouth.

She tossed her head, her long black braid of silken hair flipping behind her. The emerald green of her tilted eyes squinted with merriment. "Was that
you
in my bed last eve?"

Legion chuckled, hugging her, breathing in the sweet smell of lavender that belonged entirely to Elizabeth A'Lex. "When I get back, I'll make you eat those words, lady."

"
Legion!"
an exasperated voice shouted from the doorway into the library.

Legion turned, looking at Teal du Mer with a lethal grimace. "That man is a veritable pest. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he's getting senile in his old age."

"Legion!" du Mer called, "are you coming?"

"I'm not even breathing hard, du Mer!" the King answered in a rush of spite.

"What?"

Sometimes, Legion thought with dismay, du Mer could be a bit dense. He gave his wife one last look of hopelessness and kissed her forehead. "Take care, Sweeting." He turned to go.

"Legion? There's been no word from Brelan?" she asked.

He turned back to her. "Not yet, love. Give him time."

She nodded. Her heart was in her throat. "Don't let anything happen to you," she said in a hurt little voice. "If I lost you, too…"

"I'll be back," he swore, wanting to take her in his arms again, but knowing neither of them could endure it.

She smiled at him, her lips trembling. Beyond him, she could see Teal waiting. She lifted her hand. "Take care, Tealson. And take care of my husband."

"With my life," the gypsy swore.

* * *

Arch-Prelate Kaileel Tohre looked up from his ledger. "What is it, Robert?"

"The King is here to see you, Holiness."

Tohre cursed. "What does that fool want now?"

Robert MacCorkingdale folded his hands over his chest. "He's leaving for the negotiations. The Tribunal's sending him to Jedry for a month-long inspection of lands needed for new Temples."

"I
am
the Tribunal, remember?"

Long ago, Auxiliary Priest Robert MacCorkingdale would have been afraid of Tohre's scathing tongue. But that was in the past. "You told A'Lex to see you before he left, Holiness, so you could give instructions on the distribution of the conquered territories. Have you forgotten?"

Tohre glared at his former pupil with loathing. "I have not!" He shuffled a stack of papers. "Don't just stand there, Robert! Send the bastard in to me!"

Robert smiled. The old man was beginning to not only lose track of his senses, he was beginning to lose his ability to intimidate, as well. Tohre had become a pathetic, rambling old fool whose nightmares were spoken of in hushed tones by the Domination.

"He dreams about the Prince," Robert's grandmother had remarked. "About what he done to the boy."

Not only was Tohre losing his authority within the Tribunal and among the other members of the Domination, he was beginning to make brutal enemies among those in the two groups who had once been loyal only to him.

"Tohre is dangerous," one of the Synod members had hinted. "He makes grave mistakes."

"He should've never sanctioned Legion A'Lex to marry the Queen. A'Lex cannot be trusted."

"And Brelan Saur should have been eliminated before he was allowed to journey to Tyber's Isle! What if by some quirk of fate that one returns? And brings with him the destruction of all we have tried to accomplish?" one of the High Priests queried.

"That one should have been executed and his body cast to the sea. To have allowed him to live was folly! Tolkan must be rolling in his grave for having granted Tohre's request!"

"We don't know how long Tohre can be allowed to lead us," another Synod member agreed. "I think the man has gone as far as he can within the order. It is time for new blood."

And Robert MacCorkingdale intended to be that new blood. With each passing day, he used what fledgling power he had to undermine Tohre's position. Misplacing important papers, sending letters meant for one man to another, ordering troop movements about like men on a chessboard and thus costing the Tribunal bags and bags of Temple gold…all in the name of Kaileel Tohre, whose signature Robbie could counterfeit to perfection.

"Stop wool gathering!" Tohre shouted. "I do not have all day to wait on that fool!"

Robert opened the door and ushered in the King. He pointed to the chair before the desk.

Legion always felt as though he were being suffocated in Tohre's presence. The man's hateful stare never failed to make him sick. "I'm leaving within the hour. What was it you wanted?" His voice was clipped and hard, full of hate.

Tohre's thin lips stretched with malice. "You never show me the respect I am due."

"It's hard to show respect for someone you loathe. Someone who doesn't deserve respect."

Tohre's eyes frosted; the smile froze on his bloodless lips. "There is a limit to how much I will tolerate from you."

A rare smile, one hardly seen on Legion's mouth in the presence of Tohre, hovered on the his full lips. "You need me, Tohre. Without Liza and me, together, you would never be able to rule this kingdom or any other. The people have taken as much from you as they will."

"No one, not even you or your precious whore, is irreplaceable." Long red nails tipped in gold plowed through thinning blond hair. "I can have you assassinated and give her to Saur."

Legion's face hardened. "You can try."

For a long moment, Tohre held the King's gaze. The atmosphere was thick with hatred and mistrust. Tohre's gaze was the first to lower. "Have you forgotten about the boy?"

Legion's back stiffened. "I haven't."

"That's good, for he will be one of us soon."

Fear twisted in Legion's gut, but he kept his face immobile, his voice steady, unaffected by Tohre's spiteful grimace. "What exactly do you want me to do in Jedry?"