“More than negotiations?” Tyen mused. Even in his thoughts, Tarran is endearingly coy.
The old man glanced back. Tyen quickly smoothed his expression but, judging by the knowing smile that curled Tarran’s lips, not quickly enough.
Cunning old romantic, Tyen thought. I’m tempted to pretend disinterest, just to tease him a little. But that might put Rielle off, and I really don’t want to do that.
Tarran said nothing, however. He led Tyen through the rooms of the house, introducing his students when they reached the workroom. The walls were decorated with calligraphic banners, and Tyen was astonished to find one of his own hanging among them. But despite all the observations and explanations, introductions and chatter, a part of Tyen’s mind could not leave alone the question of what to do when Rielle arrived—if she arrived—while he was there. Was what he had daydreamed of coming to be? She was attracted to him. She liked him. She wanted them to become more than friends. Perhaps just lovers. He dared not hope for more. He couldn’t say yet if he wanted more than that. Sex was one thing; living with and promising oneself to another was entirely another. They couldn’t read each other’s minds, which was a challenge they were both unused to now. Even if they could, they might not get along.
Rielle would know, the moment she read Tarran’s mind, that Tyen had betrayed a hint of interest. But she would only know that Tarran thought so. Tyen had an unfair advantage over her.
Unless I tell Tarran I am. Then she’ll know it’s not just Tarran’s guess.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Besides, surely it was better that Tyen told Rielle herself?
As he tried to imagine what he’d say, he floundered. He was no expert on these first steps of intimacy with a woman. He’d not realised Sezee was romantically interested in him until it was too late. Yira had made her intentions clear from the outset, so there had been no guessing and interpretation of hints. Since the Raen’s death, he’d discouraged women whose interest went beyond the physical, not wanting to draw anyone into his life until he knew it would not put them in danger. Being able to read their minds meant he knew their expectations matched his, and how best to pursue or encourage them.
That was the key to his disquiet, he realised. While Rielle had made it easier by communicating through Tarran, once they were together he would be reduced, thanks to her hidden mind, to the awkward, clueless man he’d been in his world.
Before his thoughts had a chance to move beyond this point, Tarran led him into a circular atrium and there she was, her back to them as she examined the flowers of a creeper covering half of a wall. Once again, she wore a simple shift dress, this time in a red as bright as blood. Her hair had been put up in a fancy arrangement, jewels glittering in the coils.
Hearing their footsteps, she turned and blinked at Tyen in surprise, then smiled. Her gaze moved to Tarran. When it slid directly back to Tyen again her smile had altered. It became the same mischievous curl it had been before she’d left the Island of Tiles. A thrill shot though Tyen’s body, culminating in his groin. Fortunately, she didn’t look down, but turned back to Tarran, crossed her arms and lifted her eyebrows in open disapproval.
The old man looked insufferably smug.
Don’t let your annoyance spoil everything, Tyen told himself as he stepped forward to greet her with a gentlemanly bow.
“Rielle Lazuli,” he said. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
She laughed softly. “Not entirely unexpected, I think. I did tell you where to find Tarran, though I could only guess when you’d visit.”
“I am fortunate, then, that our timing matched.”
“As am I,” she replied, then hesitated. “I am glad we have the opportunity to meet outside the formality of the negotiations, and can discuss matters with no danger of eavesdroppers.”
He paused. Had Tarran misread her reasons for urging Tyen to visit him? “Is there anything regarding the negotiation you can only tell me here and now?”
“No, nothing,” she assured him. She lowered her eyes. A short silence followed. Tyen cursed silently. How had they slipped into this formal manner? He must steer them towards a more relaxed conversation. Tarran was silent, rocking back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet and wishing he could knock their heads together. Tyen grabbed the first question that came to mind.
“How did the Emperor respond to our suggested terms?”
So much for steering them to a relaxed conversation.
She glanced up. “He sent a rather terse letter. It implied I let you bully me into writing terms favourable to Doum. I am to wait for his official response. What about the Claymars?”
He shrugged. “Much the same.”
Her gaze was now on Tarran, who was studying them with no intention of interrupting. “Well, my old mentor, are you going to stand there gawping or take us somewhere we can sit and chat?” she asked, not hiding her irritability, though there was equal affection in her voice.
Tyen covered his smile with his hand.
“Of course,” Tarran replied. “I have the perfect location. Very comfortable. Private. I’ll make sure you are not interrupted.”
The old man set off down a passageway. Rielle looked back at Tyen once, her eyes bright with amusement, then followed.
“I found no path in the place between,” she observed. “How did you get here?”
“It didn’t seem polite to leave a trail leading directly to Tarran’s home.”
“So … you levitated?”
He shook his head. “No.”
When he did not offer an explanation, she glanced back again with narrowed eyes, but didn’t press him further.
Leaving the house, Tarran led them down a staircase carved into the side of the spire. It ended at a cave. The opening had been filled in with glassed panels, and a door. The interior was circular, and statues of men and women posed within alcoves in the walls. Large cushions had been fashioned to fit a deep wooden bench built to fit snugly against the walls. It was large enough to seat several people. A crescent-shaped table stood in the centre of the room, the outer curve matching the bench. On it was a flagon of water, bottles of wine, bowls of fruit and other foods that would not spoil quickly.
“I’ll tell the cook to start making a meal for later,” Tarran said, once they had settled on the benches. Much later, he thought as he slipped back out of the door. If all they become is friends, I will be happy, the old man thought as he started back up the staircase. He paused on the stairs and looked back at the door. Anyone else might think I was mad, bringing two of the worlds’ most powerful sorcerers together in my home. But I’ve known them, separately, for five cycles each. They’ll be fine.
Rielle chuckled, and as Tyen turned to her she smiled. “I am sorry, if I have made you uncomfortable. I confess this wasn’t all Tarran’s idea. I do wish to know you better. I thought it would be impossible, what with the negotiations placing us on opposite sides, but after our first meeting I realised we were in the same position, stuck between the Emperor and Claymars but with our own similar objectives.”
He nodded. “Yes, I suppose there are three sides to it, if you include us.” He sighed. “These negotiations have shown me that, despite all I’ve done to make a home in Doum, I will always be an outsider with the motives of an otherworlder.”
“Though your motives align with the Claymars, of course.”
“Not all.” He shook his head. “Obviously I’d rather they didn’t make stupid decisions out of pride.”
“Are you tempted to search for their minds and make sure they aren’t planning anything foolish?”
“Constantly. You?”
“I’ve tried,” she admitted. “No luck. The Emperor has hidden himself too well. Perhaps he isn’t even in Murai, and has settled in some neighbouring world, leaving sorcerers to make reports and deliver orders. I’d do that, if I was him.”
“Will you leave Murai if he invades Doum?”
Rielle’s forehead creas
ed as she nodded. “I’ll try to convince the mosaic-makers to leave too. It could be dangerous for them to remain in the palace.”
“Where will you go?”
Her expression became wary, then softened. “I don’t know. I will try to keep in touch, if you like.”
“I would like that,” he told her, smiling.
She turned in her seat, to face him. “Are you …?” She paused, searching his face, then bit her lip. His heartbeat quickened as he waited for her to finish. What could she be hesitating to ask?
“Yes?” The word sprang from him, before he could stop it.
She made another little grimace of apology. “Are you still in contact with Dahli?”
His stomach sank a little. “Yes. Not that I have seen him much since … We have a way of contacting each other if the need
arises.”
“So … do you know if he’s still trying to resurrect Valhan?”
A chill ran over Tyen’s skin. He nodded. “Of course.”
“With no success?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“I gathered as much, or we’d have heard.” She sighed. “Sorry. I had to ask. To get beyond that subject.” She paused. “There are things I must know about you before … well, before I can trust you.”
The tension that had been growing in him eased. It was possible that asking about Dahli was the true and only reason she’d arranged this meeting. It makes sense, though. Five cycles ago, I was clearly one of the Raen’s people. But then again, so was she.
What could he tell her that would show she could trust him? He considered and rejected a few pieces of information. Then the answer sprang into his mind. It was obvious—and she would work it out eventually anyway.
“I can’t read your mind,” he told her.
She smiled. “I know.”
He blinked in surprise, then his heart sank a little in disappointment. “How?”
“Your surprise to see Tarran was the first clue. If you’d been able to read my mind, you’d have seen me anticipating the moment you two were reunited. There have been other moments when it became clear as well.”
“I could have been politely not reading your mind.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows rose. “You’re in the palace of the ruler who wants to invade your new home world, and negotiating a peace on behalf of a world and people you love, and you wouldn’t read my mind?”
He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I would have. I could have been faking my surprise.”
“It seemed genuine to both of us—and Tarran knows you much better than he knows me. There were … other clues.” She shrugged. “In a way, it would be easier to trust you if you could read my mind. Then, if you had revealed the boy’s location to Dahli, I’d know you were untrustworthy.”
“And then it would have been too late.”
“No, I made sure it wasn’t.”
“Of course.” He pondered what she had said. “So what else do you need to know to judge me trustworthy?” he asked.
She drew a breath, let it out, then took another. “Why were you there?”
He wondered for a moment where she meant, but it did not take long to guess. “At the resurrection.”
She nodded.
He considered how much he could tell her. Not the complete truth, he decided. “After the Raen died, Baluka wanted me to look for you. I noticed a path leading out of the palace and followed it. It was Dahli’s. When I caught up with him, I read everything from his mind.” That much was true. “I let him believe I had made a deal with the Raen—that I was a spy. He took me to the resurrection as an extra source of power, for defence and to get everyone out of the world if it ran out of magic.”
“He trusted you though he’d never met you before?”
Tyen shrugged. “My role among the rebels was to scout and gather information. I’d learned a lot about the Raen. Enough to convince him I was one of the Raen’s spies—of which there were plenty Dahli had never known about.”
Her eyebrows rose. “He didn’t ask you to open your mind?”
“No.”
She looked away. “I suppose he was in a hurry.” Her eyes snapped back to him. “And he doesn’t suspect you now?”
“No more than anyone else.” Tyen shrugged.
“Why do you stay in contact with him?”
“So I will know if he finds another way to bring the Raen back.” Tyen paused, then decided it was time he tested her in return. “He knows that, with the worlds falling into chaos, many would welcome the Raen’s return.”
She scowled. “Then they are fools.”
“Yet you chose to live in his palace.”
She glanced at him, then down at her hands. “Yes. At the time it seemed like the right decision.” She winced. “It was the right decision, when the other options would have led to my death. He would have killed me if I hadn’t joined him. I learned that during the resurrection. I was able to see into his mind, to search out the truth. He was planning to kill me eventually, after I resurrected him.”
“That seems … strange. He believed you would still resurrect him even after you learned that? Or did he not realise you would be able to read his intentions?”
“I think he knew it was possible, but he believed I would still do it, to save the worlds from the chaos that would follow his death. He’d shown me many places that benefited from his intervention to convince me he was the source of stability in the worlds.”
“And you were convinced.”
She shuddered. “I was, then.”
“So what changed your mind?” Tyen pressed. “It wasn’t the threat to your life, was it? It was the boy?”
She straightened. “Yes.”
“Despite believing that the worlds would fall into conflict without the Raen.”
Her eyes narrowed and she sent him a reproachful look, but she didn’t move away. “I wasn’t stupid. I knew there would be consequences. But I could not say whether there would be more or less death and suffering than what was happening under Valhan’s rule already, or would occur when he returned. He maintained order, not a lack of violence and cruelty. When he showed me worlds, he never kept that from me. And he admitted he could never predict the outcome of his interference.”
Tyen nodded. “So you have said before. What I saw of the worlds during my scouting … He’d succeeded in some but failed in others. His methods were flawed, even after a thousand cycles.”
She exhaled. “What I fear most, right now, is that I know too little to keep Murai and Doum from war. That I might make things worse.”
Her eyes were wide with worry. He moved a little closer so he could place a hand on her back. Lightly. Reassuring. Nothing that could be taken as too intimate too soon, he hoped.
“I do too.”
She looked up at him. Suddenly her eyes were very large and close. “We can’t force worlds to be peaceful. Not without becoming him.”
“No,” he agreed. “All we can do is offer our help.”
“And it is only two worlds we are trying to help. We’re not trying to rule them all.”
“Two is more than enough.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “They certainly are.” She was not moving away. Her lips quirked into a smile—not quite the mischievous one she had made earlier, but close. His heart beat faster, sending a pulse of excitement through his body.
“You have to stick around to help people,” he told her. “Perhaps that was the Raen’s mistake: he could have been a benevolent ruler if he hadn’t tried to rule all of the worlds. He should have chosen one and dedicated himself to …”
She stopped his words with a kiss. Though he had made the kind of gestures he’d hoped would be welcome—drawing closer, a reassuring touch—he was still startled by it. As if he truly hadn’t believed she would respond in this way. That she would ever trust him. That such a beautiful, smart, powerful woman could ever possibly want him.
But the firm press of her lips on his made him forget
his surprise. They told him otherwise. They told him that she wanted much more. As her arms slid around him, she pressed her body to his. Her breasts pushed into his chest, harder then softer with each of her quickening breaths. One of her legs slid across his, so that more of their bodies touched. There was no place for his hands to be except on her body, and her lips tightened into a smile as he pulled her closer with one, then tentatively slid the other around to where the side of one breast swelled where it was pressed between them.
She pulled away a little, and gave him a searching look. He raised his eyebrows, trying to both invite and question at the same time.
Her lips curled into a small grin, this time unmistakably sensuous. He felt her fingers plucking at the buttons of his shirt, then pulling the cloth away. She drew him down onto the cushions and the only thought he had about anyone else from that point on was that Tarran had better not come to check on them for a very long time.
CHAPTER 8
Sounds filtered up from the workshop below. Though yet another sign that the time of grieving had passed, they did nothing to chase away the oppressive quiet of Tyen’s room. He picked up an unfinished insectoid, then put it down again, then rifled through drawers of parts and tools. His mind would not fix for long on anything, and the closer he came to the time of his next meeting with Rielle, the harder it was to concentrate.
It was a mistake for us to meet privately, he thought. If the Claymars find out, they might decide my position has been compromised.
But they wouldn’t, if neither he nor Rielle told them. Why would she reveal their tryst to anyone? The Muraian Emperor would also suspect that Rielle’s ability to negotiate on his behalf was weakened. She wanted peace between Murai and Doum too.
Or did she? Rielle was only a temporary resident in Murai. She had not taken on the position of negotiator willingly. If she revealed they had been lovers, it would free her from that obligation, and at the same time strike a blow against Doum, thereby keeping her in the Emperor’s good graces and the mosaic-makers in continuing work.
Or perhaps the Emperor had threatened her, or offered a reward, which made pressing for a result that benefited Murai worth her seducing Tyen. That would only make sense if he believed that the Claymars thought having sex with someone put you under their influence. But then who was influencing the other? Who was the seducer, and who the seducee?