9
When she reached the doorway, she saw that Galen had stopped at the edge of the terrace and stood, arms folded, watching as the shadowy silhouette that was Rowan vanished in the general gloom below. He glanced back to see who joined him and his stern expression lifted. "Ton-Kel. I had hoped to see you this evening."
She smiled, wishing she'd taken time to see to her face and hair again. Heaven knew what state she was in after the day's events. Well, it would have to serve. Hopefully the darkness would help. "I wanted to thank you for the wine. It's lovely."
He turned to face her, his smile settling his features into their natural good-natured expression. He bowed. "I'm glad it pleased you. I only have one cask of it; I've been saving it for something special."
She hoped his change of mood was genuine. This wasn't going to be easy. She stepped up beside him to look down over Westmere, giving herself a moment. "I've done a lot of thinking today. About everything that's going on here." She paused. "There isn't an easy way to say this."
His smile faded and he drew himself up, hands clasped behind his back. His expression, as he watched her, was grave. "Please go on."
"I don't know how much you've learned or guessed for yourself," she said, "but it's my guess — mine and my Triad's — that there is a…Great One…in the area, and that this one is behind all that's happened."
"One of the Fair Folk?" He did not sound surprised. He turned to look out over his town. She waited; it was not yet moonrise, but enough light bled from the doorway behind them to allow her to watch the thoughts chasing each other across his face. After a moment, he nodded slowly.
"I suspected something of the sort. But I have no idea why such a thing would happen. Have you?"
"No." She sighed and looked away. "With one of them, who can say? Paulo thinks perhaps it's some experiment. I think it more likely someone's game. But whatever the reason, I'm afraid this is only the beginning of the trouble, Galen."
He turned his head sharply. "What makes you say that?"
"Think about it. We're standing at the site of a possible war among the Factions. Or at least between a rogue power and the combined might of the other Factions." She looked up at him again, already sorry for the pain she was about to deal him. "You must evacuate Westmere, Galen. The Triads will escort your people safely to Killaloe, or the nearest large settlement. But you can't stay."
He turned away from her and stared down over his town, over all the houses filled with people who depended upon him, who looked to him for leadership. Ton-Kel waited in silence beside him. The air was warm, almost balmy, and the sky overhead was alive with stars. No sound drifted up from the village below, or from the inn behind them. They might have been the only two people in the world.
After a while, he spoke, his voice a low rumble in the dark. "I have thought of leaving. We all have. It has been proposed, discussed." He paused. "But we can't. I can't."
Had she heard him correctly? But no; his face was resolute. She could see no fear there, only determination. She shook her head, unsure whether to admire him or damn him for a fool. "Why do you stay?"
He didn't reply right away, but continued to stand looking out over his little domain. "Lily and I came to Westmere with a supply train that didn't want to pay for all the guards on a return trip and left us stranded." He glanced at her, explaining. "I've taken care of her since our parents died. I had few skills, just the axe my father left me. It got me work as a caravan guard, so that's how I supported us both." He nodded to the view below. "We didn't plan on staying here, not at first. I thought to find work on the next caravan passing through, move on, start over, as we'd always done."
"What changed your mind?"
His brow puckered and he glanced at the inn behind them. "Alfred was here, already running this inn. He fell in love with Lily. Followed her around like a hound, waited on her hand and foot. She's always been able to attract any man that appealed to her, of course." His smile was fond and rueful at once. Galen was clearly proud of his sister. Ton-Kel wondered if he could possibly be unaware of Lily's little games.
"She's a spirited girl, full of life," he continued, as if responding to Ton-Kel's cynical thoughts. "I didn't think she'd settle for someone like Alfred. But then she decided to marry him. I thought at first the security appealed to her — he's wealthy, and denies her nothing — and of course, how many men would let her do so completely as she likes?" He shook his head, and his smile faded. "But then I saw it was more than that. I realized, as she had, that we belonged here. We could make a place for ourselves here. A home."
He looked at her, his eyes searching for understanding. "Out here we're free, unencumbered. Our own masters. It may be hard for you to understand, but we're very far from the Triumphant here, or the conflicts that complicate life in other parts of Killaloe and Anagni. We don't see people too often. When we do, they're the sort who have respect for the ways of others."
He turned away, waving a hand out over the darkened cluster of houses. "You've met some of the Tainted here. There are few places where they can continue to live peacefully with humans. Yet here, we've all learned to overlook surface appearances; it's what we can do, not what we seem, that matters."
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, pride strong in his face. "We're a different breed out here, a new breed. Westmere is different world from any of the city-states. And we want it to stay that way." He turned to her, and his expression softened as his eyes touched her face. He laid his huge hand on her arm. His touch was light, respectful. "I don't know if you can understand that."
She looked out, trying to see this sad, broken place as he did. She wished she dared tell him that she understood very well how welcome it might be to be well away from the scrutiny of the Fey. She wished she were.
But such was never a choice for a Triad.
Well, she'd picked this life over death, and there wasn't much she could do to change it now. And she planned on beating the odds and surviving.
But was living in constant fear, in such crushing poverty, the only alternative? Was sitting here waiting for death the only choice? Was Galen as aware of his people's wants and needs as he thought? It might be that most of these people would be more than willing to trade their freedom for the care and protection of a Triumphant.
Then again, how much did that very question have to do with her mission here? The Fey were a subtle people….
Ton-Kel gave her head a tiny shake. Such pondering was pointless until she had more answers. For now, there were more pressing concerns.
Such as the question of Galen himself. He was an attractive man. Very attractive. More, he was intelligent and a natural leader, a powerful man in his own right. He was a man who believed in himself and owed allegiance to no one.
Perhaps it was that which made him seem all the more attractive to her.
Even Baraccus, for all his fine looks, could not say the same.
She became aware that he had said something and that she had been too lost in her own thoughts to catch it. She looked up at him, seeing his eyes search her face as if for a response. She smiled slowly, knowing her dimples came into play, emphasizing her lips and lending charm to her expression. "I did, after all, come here with a job to do," she said slowly, as if thinking over his question. Sure enough, that prompted him to try again.
"But surely you can take just one meal apart from your Triad." His deep voice softened to a rumble. "I truly do want to spend time with you, Ton-Kel. You are different from other Mystics I've known." His hand slid down her arm and settled lightly over her hand, almost hovering, as though he feared its weight would crush hers. "There's a wildness about you, a sense of freedom — you're the kind of person who would thrive out here."
She searched his eyes, wondering at his meaning. "I have a Triad now. That changes everything." Something in his face prompted her to add, "Perhaps the woman I was before…
."
He lowered his eyes. "I am a fool. I allowed myself to forget, for a moment, what that mark on your brow means. You are no longer free to choose, are you? They have clipped the wings of a falcon."
That stung. She stiffened, pulling back. "I live. It was my choice."
"I did not intend that to sound as it did. Forgive me, I've never been good with words. And the moment I saw you—"
"Please," she said, suddenly aware of the warmth of his hand on hers, the strength in it, "don't say any more. Nothing can come of it."
He leaned down. "Ton-Kel," he whispered, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. "I—"
She looked up, knowing she had to put a stop to this, and her expression must have warned him. He straightened, though he did not take his hand from hers. For a moment he stood silent, just looking at her.
"I will be overseeing the watch tonight," he said softly. "I will have finished the first round by midnight and won't have to go out again until moonset. There will be a warm fire in my house, and more of that wine."
Her eyes widened with surprise. A slow flush flooded his face. He lifted his hand from hers and walked quickly away.
Well, well, well. She watched his broad back recede into the night. She should not have been surprised, but she was. Was it only a momentary passion, or was the upright, independent Galen falling in love with her?
In a way, it was a pity she could not accept his not-very-veiled invitation. It had been a long time since she'd enjoyed the company of a man without any motive but pleasure. A very long time. But she had work to do, and her Triad needed her. There would be no time. Business before pleasure, after all.
She shook her head. She had always been selective in her lovers, careful to avoid the taint of promiscuity. She had never wished to become entrapped in the life so many of her contemporaries led, kept her heart carefully guarded lest she be led astray by someone who would use her for his own gain. And, of course, there had always been the fear of finding herself having to feed and raise a passel of brats….
Of course, that was no longer a consideration. The Fey rendered all their Chosen barren. Or so she'd always heard.
The thought brought with it a swift, surprising pang of regret. She shook it off. She'd never wanted children anyway. Well, at least not until her own time, thank you. And the time had never been right. Now it never would be.
Which meant a light, sweet dalliance would carry with it none of the usual fears or penalties….
She shook her head and frowned. It was not an option. Her obligations to Paulo and Baraccus, the mission that had brought them here, came first.
She balled her hands into fists and turned back to the inn. There was the rest of the evening to get through. No prowling tonight; they were all far too tired. And the Black Triad, at least, needed to get an early start in the morning.
The light in the common room seemed searingly bright after the soft darkness outside. She stood blinking in the doorway and looked around. The Red and Blue Triads had retired, but Baraccus and Paulo still sat at their table, waiting for her.
She felt a slight pang of guilt, but shook it off angrily. What had she to feel guilty about? For wanting, just for a moment, something more than the camaraderie of soldiers? For wanting something she didn't have to share with two other people?
She pulled her mouth into a smile and crossed to the table, slipping into her chair with a sigh. Paulo and Baraccus said nothing; only looked at her with questions in their faces.
She shook her head. "Galen says leaving is out of the question, that the possibility was discussed and dismissed. No chance of renegotiation. This is their home and they're willing to fight for it. And die here, if it comes to that."
Paulo snorted and shook his head. Baraccus grimaced, then straightened and, lifting the carafe, poured each of them a final cup of wine. "So be it," he said lightly. "We do or die along with the lot of them." He lifted his cup in a toast. Ton-Kel and Paulo touched their cups to his, and he smiled. "To life, and a properly glorious death," he said cheerfully. "Confusion to our enemies."
"Confusion to our enemies," Paulo and Ton-Kel echoed.
Ton-Kel emptied her cup, set it on the table, and rose, stretching. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm finished. I'm going to bed."
Paulo looked up at her, brows raised. "Aren't you going to wait for Nayir? You did promise him a song."
She smiled. "If he's going to keep me waiting like this, I feel free to do the same to him. Perhaps tomorrow night."
Baraccus nodded. "If we're still alive. All right. We'll be up in a bit. Good night."
She smiled, collected her pack and satchel from under the table, and headed for the stairway, but her smile faded as she climbed the stairs. Galen's words echoed in her heart in strange counterpoint to Baraccus's.
Freedom from the Fey on the one hand; dying in their service on the other. Living by one's own will, or at the whim of an unknown master.
Galen's choice wasn't really so hard to understand. She only wished it could be hers.
A candle sat on the floor outside the door, waiting to be lit, but the clothing she'd laid there earlier was gone. She remembered the Sobaka washerwoman. The creature had not asked for what had befallen her. What kind of life would the poor thing have anywhere else?
When she'd lit the candle, Ton-Kel opened the door. She noticed at once that the beds had been made and a basin and pitcher left on the stand, a folded linen beside it. Well, at least the service was improving. With a grateful smile, she stepped into the room and began to shut the door, then stopped. There was something on the bed where Baraccus had lain last night, something that glittered. Stepping into the room, she held the candle over it for a closer look.
A black lute, silver-stringed and beautiful, lay in a padded case of hardened leather. The light of the candle glowed warmly on the sheen of the polished wood and sparkled on the fine silver inlay.