“And you were too ill for me to give you a choice,” Tarik said. “It was a great struggle for me.”
“To keep me alive?” Kadar gazed directly into his eyes. “Or to extend my life span?”
He smiled. “You told me you don’t believe that’s possible.”
“But you do.”
“Oh, yes, I believe it. Would I have protected the grail all these years if I hadn’t believed it?”
“But you’re tired of protecting it. You wanted to shift the responsibility to someone else. You chose me.”
“It was a very painful choice. Particularly after I got to know you.”
“I thought I recalled signs of uncertainty and remorse.”
“There’s no reason Tarik should be remorseful,” Layla said. “He saved your life and gave you a great gift.”
“I don’t think he regards it as a great gift. Do you, Tarik?”
He shook his head. “It’s a terrible, terrible burden.”
“Because you make it so,” Layla said. “There’s no reason for you to agonize. Just look at Kadar. He’s nothing like Chion. He can withstand it.”
“I hope so.”
“Who is this Chion?” Kadar asked Tarik.
“My brother.”
“And what happened to him?”
“I loved him. I wanted to share Eshe with him.” His lips thinned with pain. “He went mad. He killed himself.”
Kadar went still. “Not a cheerful prospect. I believe I’m beginning to be a trifle upset with you, Tarik. Does this potion often unbalance the recipient?”
“Chion was always delicate and nervous,” Layla said. “It’s never happened before or since.”
“How do you know?” Tarik asked. “You’re so generous with Eshe that I’m sure you don’t keep track of all to whom you give it.”
“I do keep track.” She glared at him. “Yes, I’m generous, but I’m not irresponsible. There was never another Chion.”
“One was enough.” Tarik turned back to Kadar. “But I hoped it would have no adverse effect on you. I might never have given it to you at all, if you hadn’t been hurt. It seemed as if destiny took the decision out of my hands.”
“I’ll take comfort from that, if I see madness approaching,” Kadar said dryly.
“It won’t happen,” Layla said. “And you need not try to make Tarik feel guilt. He feels nothing else. You’re the first person he gave Eshe to since Chion died.”
“I’m honored,” Kadar said. “Then I assume he’s merely acted as protector for the grail?”
“Yes.” Her lips curved in a bitter smile. “Since he would not help me in any other way. I thought it only fair that I send him the grail to keep safe.”
“Safe?” Tarik repeated. “Do you know how often I’ve been tempted to melt it down and bury it?”
“But you couldn’t do it. Because, deep in your soul, you know you’re wrong.”
Kadar looked from one to the other. He could almost feel the tension and emotion vibrating in the room. He had been so absorbed with his own frustration, he had not paid any attention to the strange alchemy existing between the two. A very tumultuous and diverse river appeared to be flowing beneath the surface, carrying currents of deception, restraint, passion, and loyalty. “Why is he wrong?”
“I’m not wrong,” Tarik said. “It should stop here.”
“Is that why you gave it to Kadar?”
“I gave it to him because I wanted to save—” He wearily shook his head. “No, that was an excuse. I gave it to him because I was selfish and I wanted to be free.”
“At last,” Layla said. “Now, when you admit you have the right to be selfish and not godlike, we will have made great strides.”
“I don’t agree,” Kadar said. “I take umbrage at anyone being selfish with my well-being.” It was time to take control. “I believe you owe me a debt, Tarik.”
He could sense the sudden return of wariness in the room.
“He owes you nothing,” Layla said. “It’s you who owes him a debt.”
Kadar ignored her, concentrating on Tarik. “You disrupted the course of my life, you risked my sanity.” He recalled another thing Tarik mentioned that seemed important to him. “And you gave me no choice.”
“He couldn’t give you a choice,” Layla said. “You would have died if he—”
“Be silent, Layla. I don’t need you to defend me.” Tarik’s gaze was fastened on Kadar’s face. “I admit to all that.”
“Do you admit that you owe me a debt?”
“Perhaps.” He shook his head. “But I cannot let you use the grail.”
Kadar had hit a blank wall. He went in another direction. “I have value for you. You went to a great deal of trouble to choose me to act as guardian for your grail.”
“So?”
“Selene needs Nasim dead. I have to give her what she needs. With the grail, it will be much safer. But with or without it, I have to give her Nasim. I’m very good, but it’s clearly a near-impossible task. That means that my risks of being killed are entirely in your hands.”
Layla’s eyes widened. “Why, you bastard.”
“In truth, that’s exactly what I am. But it’s also true that the guilt is Tarik’s if he doesn’t provide me with the weapon I need.” He smiled at Layla. “And you’ve already told me how prone he is to suffer guilt.”
“He’s not prone to be made a fool.”
“If he were a fool, I’d try to trick him. I’m merely telling him the truth.” His gaze shifted to Tarik. “My death would not serve either your conscience or your well-being. Whom would you saddle with your grail? All your worrying and soul-searching would be for naught. Much better to let me have it.”
“No,” Layla said flatly.
“It’s my decision, Layla.” Tarik added wryly, “After all, you gave me the custody of it.”
“The risk is too great.”
“I promise you that I’ll return it safely,” Kadar said.
“Dead men don’t keep promises.”
“Tarik?”
“I’ll consider it.” He held up his hand to still Layla’s protest. “He speaks the truth, Layla. He could die. Nasim could kill him.”
“Either of us would die to save the grail from Nasim.”
“But it would be our choice.”
Kadar knew he had done all he could. He thought it would probably be enough. “You’ll let me know tomorrow?”
Tarik nodded. “Tomorrow evening. I’ll think about what you’ve said.”
Kadar turned to leave.
“But now I want a promise from you.”
Kadar glanced inquiringly over his shoulder.
“You say that Selene is too stunned to think of anything but Nasim, but what of you? Aren’t you avoiding thinking about Eshe too? I can think of at least three questions you should have asked me that you didn’t. Where is your curiosity, Kadar? You may not believe Eshe can do what Selket wished it to do, but what if it can? What if it’s not a myth? What if everyone could live far beyond their sixtieth year? Promise me you’ll think upon it.” Tarik smiled grimly. “And think what you risk in losing the grail, if it’s not a myth.”
Kadar nodded slowly. “A fair trade.”
But he didn’t want to consider those possibilities, he realized as he left the terrace. Tarik was right: He had been trying to avoid thinking about anything but the ways and means of accomplishing what Selene needed. He knew the reason he had instantly rejected the promise of Eshe was that he had known the idea held a fascination for him. It piqued his curiosity, and that had always been the goad setting him into motion. The chance to learn, to probe, to become more than when he started.
But he must not be caught by that lure. His entire attention must be devoted to helping Selene, not thinking of a clearly impossible—
But in helping Selene, he had made a promise to Tarik. That promise had virtually forced him to think of the possibility, the alluring myth.
Oh, yes.
&
nbsp; He plunged eagerly into the wondrous territory of the impossible.
______
“It took you long enough. It’s the middle of the afternoon.” Selene threw open the door. “You could have persuaded God to make another world in this time.”
“It might have taken a little bit longer than that.” Kadar entered the chamber. “Though if I truly brought all my powers of persuasion to bear, it could—”
“What happened?”
“Tarik is going to consider it.” He held up his hand. “I don’t think there’s a doubt that he’ll do it.”
“There’s always doubt until he agrees. It couldn’t have taken this long. Why didn’t you come and tell me sooner?”
“I was busy.”
“Doing what?”
“I took a long walk.”
“A walk? And you let me wait for—” Her gaze narrowed on his face. It was almost without expression, and yet she was aware of something just beneath the surface. Excitement. It was the same excitement she had seen on his face the night before they had arrived at Sienbara. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you look—”
“It has nothing to do with Nasim. And that’s the only subject in which you’re interested, isn’t it?”
He was wrong. She was intensely interested in whatever had stirred that excitement. But it was clear he wasn’t going to share it. She smothered her disappointment and nodded. “That’s the only thing that’s important right now.”
He smiled. “You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. When will we know?”
“Tomorrow evening.”
Her disappointment and frustration increased. “Perhaps I should talk to him.”
“I know it annoys you to sit and do nothing, but that would be the wrong thing to do. Let him come to the decision himself.”
“And we wait and twiddle our thumbs.”
“No, we sup. We talk. I need you to tell me more of Layla. He fights it, but she wields great influence with Tarik. Perhaps a game of chess.” He bowed. “If you’ll do me the honor.”
“I don’t wish to play chess.”
“Too bad. In your present distraught state I’d easily sweep you away. Then do you wish me to leave you?”
“Would you?” she asked, skeptical.
“No, I’m selfish. After this endeavor gets under way, I don’t know how often I’ll be able to enjoy your company. I intend to take full advantage of this lull.”
“Then, since I have no choice, I suppose I’ll have to put up with you.”
“And you’re relieved to have even my humble company to while away the time.” His eyes glimmered with mischief. “Admit it.”
She was relieved. She didn’t want to spend any more time alone and, for some reason, Kadar’s hard edge seemed to have vanished. “Perhaps.” She smiled. “Very well, I admit it.”
“Ah, graciousness in a barren world.” He took her arm and led her toward the door. “Come. I’ll show you the garden.”
“It’s beautiful.” Her finger gently touched the petals of a magnificent crimson rose growing on a bush beside the path. “I’ve never seen roses this late in the year. Scotland is not kind to roses.”
“This is a gentler land. Could you become used to it?”
She shrugged. “I suppose one could become accustomed to anything, but I prefer Montdhu. This land is too easy. I don’t see how the people here keep from becoming soft.”
He chuckled. “Not all people require a challenge every day.”
“Then they should.” She gazed at the serene stillness of the crystal pool. “It’s lovely, but I cannot imagine sitting here every day.”
“I’m certain the woman for whom this villa was purchased was not of your nature. Tarik tells me the Pope bought the villa for his favorite mistress. She created this world to her own taste.”
“Then she must have been a very docile and restrained woman.”
“Not too restrained, or the Pope would not have thought her worth keeping.” He paused. “Tarik says she gave him a son. It was the son who sold the villa to Tarik.”
His tone was odd, and she asked, “So?”
“His name was Vaden.”
Her eyes widened. “Vaden?” It was too bizarre. It could not be the same warrior who had been a Knight Templar with Ware. The enigmatic knight who had pursued and persecuted and, finally, saved them all. Yet she had heard that Vaden came from Rome and no one knew his background. “The son of the Pope?”
“It would explain why he was accepted into the Knights Templar.”
“It can’t be our Vaden. The coincidence is too great.”
“The description Tarik gave me is very close.” He gazed thoughtfully down into the mirrored waters of the pool. “And haven’t you noticed some people seem tied together throughout their lives? Their paths weave in and out, come together and part, to form a pattern.”
“Astonishing,” she murmured, still dwelling on the coincidence. “Is he still in Rome?”
“I have no idea. Maybe. Tarik said he had formed a small army and was selling his sword to the warring factions in this land.”
“Find out if he’s here.”
“Why?” His gaze shifted to her face. “Now what do you have in mind?”
“Vaden was a great warrior. He helped Ware once. Isn’t it possible we could get him to help us?”
Kadar threw back his head and laughed. “I should have known.”
“Why are you laughing? It’s a possibility.”
“I’m not laughing at your idea, just your single-mindedness. I bring you to look at roses and you think only of recruiting knights to ride under your banner.”
“Find out.”
He was still smiling. “I’ll find out.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow. Now will you put such thoughts out of your mind?”
“I cannot.”
His smile faded. “I know. Try.” His gaze shifted back to the pool again. “I’ll give you something else to think about. What if their Eshe is the miracle they think it is?”
She shook her head.
“I know it’s unlikely, but—”
“Not unlikely—impossible.”
“In the Scriptures there are tales of long life.”
“Men chosen by God. I doubt if God would choose heathens from Egypt to receive such a blessing.”
“Who knows,” Kadar murmured.
“Are you beginning to believe Tarik’s tale?” she asked, surprised.
“I believe he believes it. And Tarik is no fool. I cannot speak for Layla. You know her better than I do.”
“Even a clever woman can be blinded by what she wants to see.”
“Very well. Then assume it’s merely an interesting dream. It does no harm to imagine what it would be like.” His brow furrowed. “I know few men who live much beyond forty years. Sixty is a great age. What if you could live beyond that? Would you want to do so?”
She thought about it. “The only one I know who is so old is Niall McKenzie. He’s two and sixty. His joints ache, his vision is dimming, he sits before the fire and thinks only of his youth.” She shook her head. “That is no life. Better to go out like the flame of a candle in the wind.”
“But if you could remain strong? Think of all the things you could learn.”
She could see why such a prospect was intriguing to Kadar. His curiosity about everything could never be satisfied. “That would be a joy.” She was silent a moment. “Would there not be a point when you could learn no more, when everything seemed the same?”
“If that time ever came, it would only pose another challenge.” He smiled. “And I doubt if you could ever learn everything in this world.”
“Unless everyone grew old with you, it would be a lonely life.” She shivered. “I would hate to see all the people I love die.”
His smile vanished. “And, if everyone grew very old, there would be far too many people to be fe
d. Famine breeds war.” His lips twisted. “And war would kill far more certainly than old age. Checkmate.”
Kadar had thought of wars, and she had thought of Ware and Thea and all the people at Montdhu she cared about. It was too sad. She would think no more about it.
She shifted her shoulders as if to rid herself of the burden. “If you have no more pleasant conversation than of war and famine, I will think better of spending the evening with you. I don’t know why you wish to dwell on such impossibilities anyway.”
He smiled. “It’s my dark soul. I merely wished to hear your thoughts on the subject.”
“You’ve heard them. Now take me back to the house. All this talk of famine has made me hungry.”
“YOU MAY USE THE GRAIL,” Tarik said. “But Layla and I will go with you, and if we think the grail is in danger, don’t expect us to let you keep it.”
Kadar nodded.
“This is Tarik’s decision. I hope you’re satisfied. You played on his guilty feelings very well,” Layla said. “It’s not my will. I think it complete madness. I’ll be watching you closely.”
“I’m sure you will,” Kadar said. “I’ll be watching you too.”
She looked at him inquiringly.
“I’d judge you to be a dangerous woman if thwarted.”
She met his gaze. “More than you dream.”
“And that in the past you probably played on Tarik’s feelings yourself.”
“Yes, I did. I’d have used anyone to break free of the priests and that house I hated,” she admitted calmly. “But that was long ago.”
“How long?”
She glanced at Tarik. “Ah, questions. He’s been thinking as you bid him.”
“I keep my promises,” Kadar said. “You wanted me to ask questions. I’m asking them.” He turned to Tarik. “You said that at first you didn’t believe in Eshe. You do now?”
Tarik nodded.
“Why?”
“The only way to test it was to take it ourselves. One evening Layla and I had a celebration. We had honey cakes and wine and at the end of the evening we drank a toast.” He shrugged. “And the next day there was nothing different. We didn’t know what to expect, but there should have been something.”