DIREN GAZED DOWN from the third-floor windows at the pine grove and mused that, in this one particular place, Desalaya might have passed for Old Earth itself. The green sky was hazy this morning, and when he squinted, it looked almost blue. A sense of pride suffused him; Chee’ayn might be unkempt and wind-worn, but it was still the only place in the Highlands where pine could be grown freely without having to mix in Old soil. At one point in time, the gardens had flowed out to the horizon, a panorama of flower beds and hedges and pools, spectacular even in a society of similarly vast estates.
His fingers caressed the cool oblong shape of the latteh in his pocket. Soon Kashi would flock here again to see Chee’ayn’s restored beauty--and then remain to kneel at his feet.
He turned the crystal and watched the sun glint on its irregular facets. “I assume you’ve thought about what I asked.”
“You asked for nothing.” There was a new hint of fire in Haemas’s voice that made him glance around in spite of himself. “You demanded.” Her face was freshly washed; tendrils of damp hair curled around her ears. She was as pale as new fallen snow, but composed, and her white-gold eyes were impenetrable.
“Obviously you’ve recovered, if you can find the energy to quibble over a few unimportant words.” He almost activated the crystal to subdue her, but then changed his mind and damped it completely. He needed her will intact, along with her judgment and skills. If he used the latteh to obtain full control, he would have to override those faculties in her, and he might never get what he wanted most: her timeways craft. Pocketing the crystal, he turned to face her. She met him with a lift of her chin.
Taken aback by the determination in her face, he sent a tendril of thought to probe at the shields enclosing her mind and was rebuffed by a distressingly solid, resistant surface. “I’ve been studying the notes of the last Temporal Conclave.” He pulled out a rickety chair and motioned for her to sit down. “They’re quite interesting.”
Folding her long-fingered hands, she ignored him and walked instead to the window, putting the huge desk between them. “One-fourth of the men who attempted to broach the timeways that day died, and half of those who survived were permanently mindburned.” The early sunlight fired the single plait of her hair into spun white-gold as she turned her back on him and gazed down onto the snow-dusted Chee’ayn grounds.
Noticing suddenly that Axia had dressed her in a castoff gown that barely came to her ankles, he frowned. It was typical of his older sister’s sharp-edged personality to be so mean-minded. No wonder he had been unable to secure a Highlands match for her worthy of her status as a daughter of the House of Chee.
Still, the light-blue velvet flattered Haemas Tal’s fair coloring in a way that the gray uniforms habitually worn at the House of Moons never had. His fingers burned suddenly to stroke the ivory curve of her cheek—and he wondered at himself. Over the years, the parade of second-rate tutors his father had provided had always blathered on at him about “having not being so satisfying a thing as wanting.” In this moment, he knew finally that wasn’t true. Indisputably, he had her at last, and yet he ached for her more fiercely now than at any other time since he had first seen her appear before the Council of Twelve.
On that day she had worn gray, yet she outshone every woman present, her slender figure standing straight and tall as she met the eyes of all those disapproving, stiff-necked old Lords, giving them back measure for measure what they gave her. He’d wanted her then, without even knowing who or what she was.
But then someone had explained to him that she was the old Tal’s daughter, the one who had run away to the Lowlands and mysteriously reappeared, versed in the timeways craft of the almost mythical ilseri.
And it was then, after he understood the opportunity that she represented, that he had finally known how to shape his ambition: Using the latteh crystal, he would bend this woman to his will as one bent a young tree. And then, when he had the strength of her knowledge and Talent behind him, along with the very power of Time itself, they would all bow down before him—every High House and miserable Lowlands farm, and the rest of Desalaya, as well. Kashi and chierra alike, they would push their faces into the dirt and pay Chee’ayn the homage it had always deserved.
He forced a deep steadying breath into his lungs, clenching his hands into fists with the effort of not touching her. That would come later, once she had given him the edge he required. “Someone was Searching for you last night.” He held his voice to casualness. “Did you feel it?”
Her eyes flicked toward him, then returned to the frosty view outside.
So she had. He moved close enough to gaze over her shoulder and breathe warmly on the nape of her neck. “I think I was able to break the link without killing him, but whoever it was may not be so lucky next time.”
Gliding away, she pulled the single braid of hair over her shoulder, automatically smoothing the stray wisps. “Perhaps he will kill you instead.”
Diren jogged the latteh into activity and her fingers jumped as if she’d been stung. “I doubt that very much, Lady.” He threaded a deadly softness through his voice, then seized her arm. She flinched at his touch; her skin was covered in chill-bumps, as cold beneath his fingers as the glass in the window. “Make up your mind to it,” he said. “Shortly we will meet my sister down at the courtyard portal, which you will use to take her back with you to a time when the latteh was common. I want to know everything about how they were used and what they can do.”
She jerked at her arm. “And if I don’t?”
“Then we will proceed with our matrimonial.” He pulled her hard against his chest and pinned her arms. His breathing deepened as she struggled to free herself and the sensuous pressure of her body against his made itself known. Her cool skin burned like fire beneath his fingers. He soaked in the feel of her, the subtle fragrance of her hair and skin, his at last to do with as he pleased. Now and forever. Freeing one hand, he caressed the silken white-gold hair that hung, even braided, to her waist.
She shuddered, then her jaw stiffened and she looked away. “I have never been very far back into the past.” Red circles danced in her cheeks. “I don’t know if it’s even possible to go that far.”
Releasing her, he reached for the heavy, leather-bound book lying open on his desk. He thumbed through the fragile pages until he found what he wanted, then thrust the volume at her. “I want you to go back into the period known as the Ivram Despots, although I doubt they thought of themselves in that way.”
“I don’t know anything about that time.” Laying the dusty volume back on the desk, she traced a finger down the page, a furrow appearing between her brows. “How could I possibly recognize that period even if I found it?”
“You had best study this book and pray that you find what I’m after, because if you cannot, I will have some use out of you, one way or another.” He bent his head and nuzzled the soft hollow of her neck.
Then she did sink onto the chair that he pulled out for her, and he was pleased to see her long fingers tremble when she turned the page.
* * *
The chierra cook set the steaming bowl in front of Enissa, then returned to mixing pie dough on the pastry block at the far corner of the kitchen. The air was filled with the aroma of baking cinnamon tarts. Enissa took a bite of the zeli porridge. It slid down her throat in a warm but thoroughly unappetizing lump. She kneaded her forehead and told herself to be practical. Even if she was too worried about Haemas to have any appetite, she had to eat. She couldn’t afford to behave like some high-strung, overbred Lady who got the vapors every time the cook burned the roast. With Haemas missing, a million things needed looking after here at the House of Moons, not to mention the coming wrangle with the Council over the disposition of the Lenhe children.
Since they had no close family left, she wished the girls could remain here to be trained in the mindarts, but some House, most likely Castillan’ayn, as they were Castillan grandchildren, would see their potential marriageability and demand their custody.
She spooned up another bite of porridge, then changed her mind and shoved the bowl across the scrubbed kitchen worktable. No matter that her head was telling her to be sensible, her stomach just couldn’t manage. Perhaps later, if Kevisson had good news from his Search, she would be able to force something down.
“Lady Enissa?”
She jumped as a hand touched her shoulder. She twisted around to see one of the gray-uniformed older students. “Yes, what is it, Saatha?”
The short, wistful-looking girl curtseyed. “Healer Nevarr is waiting in the front room to see you about something urgent—he wouldn’t say what—and Father Orcado came in just behind him.”
An odd pairing, Enissa told herself as she rose from her stool. “Tell them I’ll be along directly,” she said, then patted her hastily pinned up hair, trying to remember if she’d worn this tunic yesterday or not.
The girl turned to go, then hesitated, indecision spilling through her half-trained shields in waves.
Enissa glanced up. “Was there something else?”
“It’s—it’s just that everyone’s been wondering.” Saatha hesitated. “About Lady Haemas—has there been any word?”
“No, Saatha. Now run along.”
Clad in the long, full skirts that many of the girls preferred to tunics and pants these days, Saatha took up a double handful of material, then dashed out the door, her slippers echoing down the long hall. Enissa sighed and checked her gray tunic for stains. It never failed---every time she ran into another healer, she looked like something one of the silshas had killed and dragged through the mud. The male clique that comprised the Highlands healers had little enough regard for her without adding fuel to that particular fire.
After another moment, satisfied that she was at least presentable, she followed Saatha to the communal room often used at night for gatherings. She could feel the dark weight of disapproving impatience long before she actually laid eyes on the visitors.
Stopping in the doorway, she appraised the two men, each trouble in his own particular way. “Father Orcado.” She nodded stiffly at the priest of the Light. He was a barrel-chested man in his forties, clad in traditional yellow-and-gold brocades. Clearly this was to be a formal visit. Enissa sighed inwardly and stood a little taller.
“And Healer Nevarr.” She managed another nod, even more curt, at the sandy-haired Shael’donn healer. He was from a distant Lowlands House unfamiliar to her, and rather young for a full-fledged healer. She knew Master Ellirt had taken him on at Shael’donn, hoping experience might eventually season the youngster’s arrogant confidence, but for now, Nevarr opposed her practice as a healer at every opportunity. She studied him. “How can I be of service?”
“I haven’t got time for pleasantries, Saxbury.” The healer tossed aside the leather-bound text he had been leafing through. Tension was written in the lines of his jaw and shoulders.
“Well, then, tell me what you do have time for, Nevarr.” She smiled faintly as he flushed over her own pointed omission of his title.
“Master Monmart has been—injured somehow. I don’t even know how it happened, but both of the other Healing Masters, Feraa and Lising, have been called out to the other side of the Highlands, and I have been able to do nothing for him.” He stared at her hotly, as if it were somehow her fault. “It’s—beyond my training.”
Enissa felt a prickle of dread. She had never known this brash young man to admit such a thing before, no matter what the circumstances. Then she turned to the priest. “And you, Father Orcado? Is your business equally pressing?”
The priest studied her with indifferent eyes. “A request has come up before the Council concerning the Lenhe children. I am to take them before this afternoon’s session.”
Enissa thought of Kisa and Adrina as she had left them upstairs, listless and pale, only going through the motions of taking class with the younger students. “By the Blessed Light itself, Orcado, they’re still in mourning! Surely Castillan’ayn can spare them a few more days.”
“I think not.” He smiled thinly as if privy to secrets at which she could only guess. “As you might imagine, Sillner Castillan is unused to waiting.” He adjusted his gold embroidered overtunic.
Abruptly she made up her mind. “Well, they cannot come today.” She picked up the book that Nevarr had cast aside and carefully replaced it on the shelf. “And I speak as the one in charge of their health. Check with me tomorrow—or even better, in a few days.”
“The Council will not be pleased,” Orcado said.
“The Council!” Enissa forced herself to draw a deep, even breath. “The Council can check with me again at their convenience. Good day, Father Orcado.”
She felt his anger threatening to boil over, but he managed to contain it. “I will be back tomorrow.” Without another look, he brushed past her elbow and left.
Nevarr stared after him. “Was that wise?”
“You weren’t at the Lenhe funeral pyre yesterday. Kisa Lenhe has not had time to recover from what that unfeeling—” She passed a hand over her forehead, “what he put her through.” Enissa paused as she sent a mental call to Meryet to bring her medical pouch downstairs. “Now, what about Kevisson? Has he been able to tell you anything?”
The guarded anger in Nevarr’s face was overshadowed with worry. “He’s—too deep. His breathing is off and I can’t get any sort of response.” He grimaced, turning away. “Dammit, I don’t even know what he could have been up to last night.”
“I do,” Enissa said grimly. “He was Searching for Haemas.”
“Haemas Tal?” A hint of confusion escaped Nevarr’s shields.
“She’s missing, or haven’t you heard?”
“Missing?” His face paled until the faint dusting of freckles stood out. “You’re sure she didn’t just go off by herself? You know ...” His voice trailed away lamely.
“She did it before?” Enissa finished for him sharply. “May I remind you that she was only fifteen at the time and under the burden of believing she had killed her father? Or has the Highlands really forgotten what Jarid Ketral did to her? I assure you that she never will.”
Nevarr rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Never mind that wretched business. Nobody cares about that anymore. Several students called me around the Ninth Hour last night when they found Monmart and I’ve been up with him ever since.”
“Never mind.” Enissa turned around as Meryet ran in with her pouch. “Thank you.”
The girl dropped a quick curtsey. “Will there be anything else, Lady Enissa?”
“No, thank you, unless—” She turned back to the healer and caught a stunned look on his face. “Nevarr, what is it?”
“I left a student to keep watch on Monmart.” The healer’s eyes widened. “He says he’s stopped breathing!”
“Lord of Light!” Enissa gestured at the double doors leading outside. “Go on ahead and I’ll come after you as fast as I can.”
But it was a five-minute run from there to Shael’donn. She could see in his stricken eyes the knowledge that he would be too late. “Go on!” she said. “I’ll be right after you.”
Nevarr nodded, then dashed out the door, his strong young legs pumping. Taking a firm grip on her medical pouch, she trotted after him as fast as she could, but she was already puffing by the time she reached the first bend in the path.
I’m too old for this, she told herself as the cold air rushed in and out of her straining lungs. She stopped to catch her breath and noticed the portal set halfway between the brown stone of Shael’donn and the gray House of Moons. She thought of the ilsera crystals waiting there, singing their silent song. Kevisson would be too far gone by the time Nevarr reached Shael’donn ... but the ilseri weren’t limited by time. Wasn’t there a way to use the temporal pathways to reach him before it was too late?
The back of her mind prickled as she tried to remember what Haemas had said about walking two lines in the same When. She shook her head and angled toward the portal. There was some difficulty about it, some complication, but she did know Haemas had done it once. Surely, then, she could, too. It was at least worth a try.
Reaching the simple spine-wood portal, she threw her mind open to the crystals’ vibrations as Haemas had painstakingly taught her, and sifted through the myriad shimmering, shifting blue lines of power that branched out from her feet in all directions, looking for one that would lead her to Kevisson’s bedside before it was too late.
* * *
The restless words on the page seemed to crawl together, the letters combining, then breaking apart, stubbornly refusing to make sense. Pressing her aching temples, Haemas squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t even think with the latteh so close by, much less concentrate. The pulsing vibrations were keeping time with the dull pounding misery behind her eyes and she was so infernally cold.
“Problems, Lady?”
Opening her eyes, she looked up into Chee’s mocking face. “If you want me to be able to work, then turn that bloody thing off!”
Chee drew the green crystal from his pocket and held it out to her so that the vibrations were even stronger, piercing her skull. She flinched back and he smiled lazily, like a beast about to tear into its prey.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to shield against it, but shields were of no use. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and the pain continued unabated while Chee circled her.
Then it abruptly stopped. “All right.” He slipped the crystal back inside his tunic. “But don’t think you can try anything.” He draped his lean frame over a patched leather chair before the ash-clogged fire and stared moodily into the guttering flames.
Chilled to the center of her heart, Haemas passed a trembling hand over her face and sat back. Try anything? Even if she could get away from him, there would still be the latteh crystal. And if she fought him until it cost her life, there were others, like Enissa, who shared knowledge of the timeways, although they were not as skilled. He would no doubt go after one of them, perhaps even one of her students. And if she went before the Council and told them what she knew, they would just laugh. They were already inclined to disregard anything she had to say, and lattehs only existed in old myths, like giants and lasers; no one believed in them anymore.
Bending back over the ancient book, she pretended to absorb herself in the stiff, twig-like script again while her mind raced. Her best chance lay in agreeing to take this Chee woman into the timelines with her, then leaving her there and transferring back to the House of Moons. It made her ashamed to even think of doing such a thing to anyone, and yet what other choice remained? Diren Chee had never seen the timeways; he knew nothing of the infinite numbers of Otherwhens coexisting alongside the Truewhens.
Haemas had not been lying; Truewhen and Otherwhen were almost indistinguishable to her, as well as to the few other women she had been able to train so far at the House of Moons. Only the ilseri seemed to be capable of easily telling the difference. Chee’s demands were impossible; even if she found the period he sought, it might be in an alternative timeline where the rules for using a latteh were not the same as they had been here.
“Aren’t you finished yet?”
She took a deep breath and focused again on the musty yellowed page. “Nearly.”
“I would like to get started sometime this century.” He unfolded himself from the chair. “Let’s go.”
Turning the page, she ran her eyes down the descriptions of the Ivram Period hastily, blanching even as she read. Surely this couldn’t be the time that he wanted—so violent and lawless, each House obliged to hold its territory against all others, employing the mind-disciplines to kill and maim.
Seizing her arm with fingers of steel, Chee jerked her out of the chair. “Stop stalling.”
Numbly she tried to match his long strides as he pulled her through the echoing halls of Chee’ayn toward his portal and the ilsera crystals that would give her entry into the timelines.