Love Never-Ending (19 page)

As clearly as possible she described the stranger and his
odd behavior. “He seemed familiar to me, Ty, but when I tried to pin down why—”

“You couldn’t remember, eh?” Tossing down the last of the
cider, he set the cup on the guest hut windowsill next to the cider jug. “Well,
you did the correct thing in reporting him. Now the warriors and villages will
be alerted. Are you ready to leave?”

“Of course. I can’t wait to reach Lost Market!”

“Then toss your bags into the cart. No need for you to carry
them. Besides, it will leave your hands free to swing that heavy walking stick,
if need be.”

Without arguing, she followed his suggestion and immediately
felt more in control. Tyger slipped on the shoulder harness for the cart and
they were on their way with a brief wave to the villagers. The next stop was
Dai’s Hamlet, a half day’s walk through the heavily wooded Sanctuary Preserve
that ran the length of Sanctuary Hill.

Tyger set a brisk pace as they traveled the rough trail but
Samara made no complaints. Both had the uncanny feeling that hidden eyes were
watching them. The uncomfortable sensation increased the farther they walked.
Suddenly Tyger halted and asked her, “Do you mind helping to pull the cart?”

“No, of course not.” In puzzlement, she watched him remove
the harness and carefully pile it on the fleeces. Realization dawned when he
lifted his
punchbow
from beneath the fleeces and slipped the carrying
sling over his shoulder.

“If you’ll take this side, that will leave my bow arm free,”
he muttered under his breath.

She moved into position and seized the carved handle on the
left-hand shaft while he took the right. In a few moments they had worked out a
smooth rhythm so that they were working in tandem. Strangely enough the
uncomfortable feeling of being watched faded away almost at once when Tyger
donned the
punchbow
. Evidently, whoever watched them wasn’t willing to
take on a fully armed warrior.

The sun was low in the sky when they finally hauled the cart
into the center of Dai’s Hamlet. Long before they reached the village they had
agreed to break their journey there with an overnight stay. While Tyger went to
find the village chief to arrange accommodations, Samara slumped on the bench
next to the bakery and kept an eye on the cart. She fell into a light doze,
wearily semiconscious of the life in movement around her. She jerked upright
when a surprised shout nearby startled her awake. A man was staggering
aimlessly through the village. It took her several shocked seconds to realize
that it was Bishop. Leaping to her feet, she rushed to catch him before he
could fall to his knees.

“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded anxiously.

“Mmhpw.”

The heavy scent of stale sex gusted in her face. “Never
mind,” she declared in disgust. “It’s obvious what your problem is. You went to
see Susie.” Backing away from him, she turned to find someone to take him back to
wherever he was staying.

A heavy
thunk
following by a wordless cry had her
whirling back to see what was wrong. Bishop was crumpled in a heap on the
ground, the hilt of a
flicknife
protruding from his back. Screaming like
a banshee, she reached toward him. A second
flicknife
whizzed past her
and burrowed into the ground on the far side of Bish next to his head.
Shrieking at the top of her lungs, she dropped to her knees and huddled over
him.

Villagers came running from every direction. Tyger lifted
her away from Bish and shook her when she fought him. “Enough! Quit the
screaming and tell us what happened!”

She stared at him in bewilderment.

“Samara! What happened here?”

Eyes wildly darting at the villagers surrounding them, she
stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle the scream that wanted to escape. Then
tears welled up. “Someone killed Bish…” she whimpered. “I just turned away to
summon a man to help him get home.” She stopped and swallowed. “And I heard a
thump. Tyger, he was on the
ground
.”

Tyger shook her again, more gently but firmly enough to
focus her attention. “Then what happened? Did you see who did it?”

“No…” She sank to the ground next to Bishop and curled up,
sobbing.

Lark, the village healer, rushed up to the muttering knot of
people. They quickly gave way, making room for her to examine Bishop. “You can
stop with the wailing, Samara. He’s not dead yet,” she said dryly. “Of course,
if we just leave him lying on the ground, I’m sure we could change that.”

Immediately two of the men ran to retrieve the stretcher
from the barter keeper’s hut. Others went to fetch blankets while the four
warriors from the village discussed the next steps to be taken. Tyger shared
the information about the stranger Samara had encountered earlier that morning.

A child yanked on Tyger’s
sharda
. He stared down into
Mara’s anxious face. “I saw the bad man,” she said solemnly. “He was over
there!” She pointed past the butcher’s shop to the trail leading to Dai’s
Retreat.

Squatting down so that he was on her level, Tyger asked,
“What did he look like?”

She nibbled on a dusty finger in thought for a moment. “I
don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know, Mara?” Tyger questioned her calmly
though his gut was pushing for haste.

Mara leaned closer as though to tell him a secret. “He had on
a funny hat,” she whispered.

“Jacob?”

Mara’s father, Jacob, had been listening to the dialogue
with interest. He knew at once what Tyger needed. Kneeling down next to Mara,
he gently probed her mind, searching her memories for Bishop’s attacker. In a
few moments, he looked up at Tyger. “He had something—maybe a piece of
cloth—wrapped around his head. All that was uncovered were his eyes and he
wasn’t close enough for her to see them clearly.”

“No one that you recognized?”

Jacob shook his head decisively. “Not from this village.”

Tyger looked over his shoulder at the small group working on
Bishop. Samara was kneeling at his head, very gently stoking his forehead while
Lark slowly withdrew the
flicknife
, in incredibly tiny increments,
force-healing Bish as she worked it free. Llyon was already on his way but at
his best speed, he wouldn’t make it to Dai’s Hamlet until later tonight.

He heard Rafael, the village chief, ask her, “What else can
we do to help you, Lark?”

“This man needs a
semtorn
,” she replied grimly. “He’s
been in the valley too long. Without the change, I may not be able to save
him.”

“I will serve,” Tyger volunteered quietly.

“No! I will.” Samara’s determination was clear for all to
see.

“Can you bring him around enough to agree, Lark?”

“It won’t do any good.”

Tyger turned to confront the man walking into the clearing.
“Why not?”

“Dai still has him under compulsion. No speech,” Gar
explained briefly.

“This isn’t a bonding. He needs to consent.”

Bishop, wake up!

Uuuuh.

No, wake up! You have to wake up now. I need you to give
consent!

S’mara? Go ‘way, babe. I’m no good f’r you.

She gripped his earlobes and pinched hard.
Pay attention
to me! I need to bite you. Lark says she can’t heal you without the bite! You
know what the bite means. I know that Dai told you.

Why you wanna bite me? You don’ like me anymore.

She wanted to weep with frustration.
I am going to bite
you and when you get well enough, I’m going to bite you again someplace where
you’ll remember it!

Bishop’s fingers curled feebly as he gasped loud enough for
Lark to hear.

S’okay. You bite me wherev’r ya want.

“I asked him and he gave his consent.” Not waiting for
further discussion, Samara shifted until she was curled next to Bish’s body.
Her hair brushed his chin as she nuzzled his dusty shoulder. Then with an inner
strength she’d never suspected in herself she bit down, her sharp fangs
piercing his skin.

Lark’s eyes met Tyger’s in query.
They have an
attachment?

Curtly, he nodded.
I’ve suspected it was so. This will
change things.

Oh, you think so?
Lark snorted under her breath as
she returned to her healing.

Samara withdrew her fangs, languidly licking the punctures.

Samara…

Go to sleep, Bish. Everything will be all right now.
Slowly, his body tight with pain relaxed as consciousness faded. With a deep
sigh of relief, she moved away, sitting close by. Exhaustion pulled at her.

Rafael’s bond mate, Gracia, lightly touched her shoulder.
“Samara? Come with me. The guesthouse is ready.”

Fighting back an instinctive need to stay, Samara allowed Tyger
and Gracia to help her to her feet. With one last glance back, she turned to
follow Gracia across the village center to the tiny guest hut.

Samara returns to Lost Market

An eight-day later Samara finally returned to Lost Market.
Uncomfortable and at loss for an explanation for her behavior, she had
nevertheless visited Bishop each day. Bish refused to discuss his visit to
Susie. Actually, he remained mute, no matter what she said and he stubbornly
blocked all mental speech. As the days wore by with stilted one-sided
conversations and no acknowledgement of her actions on that event-filled day,
she reluctantly listened to the entreaties of her parents and returned home.

The weather turned cold and dreary as winter approached.
Rebelliously Samara unpacked her winter
meerlims
and warm boots and
heavy winter shawls the same afternoon she wearily walked into Lost Market.
Where had fall gone? Her father and mother arrived with a load of firewood for
her small stove. While her father stacked the wood on her back porch, Rebaccah
presented her with a basket of cookies and a warm sweet pie. “Sit down and tell
me about it,” she commanded, pointing to an empty chair. “Don’t leave anything
out.”

With a careless shrug, Samara said, “There’s nothing to
tell.”

“Do you take me for a fool? I’m your mother.” Rebaccah
filled the kettle at the sink and then set it on the fire with an annoyed
thump. “You served as his
semtorn
, Samara. You are an unbonded female.”

“And not likely to be bonded either!”

“So what possessed you to do that? Why on earth would you
tie yourself to an unbonded male? What will happen when he finds a bond mate?”
Rebaccah threw up her hands in disgust. “Do you wish to share his mind when he
beds another woman?”

“I don’t know! All I know is that
I
had to do it.
Me!
Not someone else.”

Her mother sat down with a thump and shot her a
thunderstruck look. “Just like that?”

“Yes. Just like that.”

“Oh, just gag me with a spoon.”

“Mama!”

“I mean it. You claimed him right there in front of an
entire village and you think you can make me believe that you didn’t know what
you were doing?” Rebaccah slammed her hand down on the table. “Well, we’ll see
what new nonsense this leads to. How long did Lark and Llyon say it would take
him to recover?”

Samara folded her arms on the table in front of her and
dropped her head down in dejection. “Possibly by Midwinter.”

“Heh. Well, that gives us two moons to prepare.” Rebaccah
hopped up with renewed energy and began to prepare the tea. “Tomorrow you’ll
need to go see Tyger to order your bonding blanket. And then we’ll go to Jailyn
to order some new house shifts.” She tapped her chin. “What about linens? Do
you need to order anything new from Carol? No need to leave it until the last
minute.”

“Mama! What are you talking about?”

“Your bonding. Even a covenant bond is special.”

“Have you lost your
mind
? Bishop never agreed to a
covenant bond! He was barely conscious. Besides, he was on his way back to the
farm after spending the night
and
day with Susie.”

“Yet you volunteered—no, you
demanded
—the right to
serve as his
semtorn
. You should have thought of that before you bit
him.”

Samara shoved back from the table and stomped into the
bathing room, slamming the door shut behind her, terrified that she would say
something to her mother that she couldn’t take back. Rebaccah shook her head in
astonishment before a secret smile crept across her face. Samara might not
believe that there was a bonding in her future but Rebaccah would be very, very
surprised if that didn’t happen. Very surprised.

Ham opened the back door and entered with a flood of cold
air. “Tea?”

“It’s ready.”

“I’ll go wash my hands.” He held up hands covered with muddy
streaks.

Rebaccah motioned toward the kitchen sink. “Wash them there.
Samara’s having a tantrum in the bathing room.”

He swiftly washed his hands and gratefully took a seat at
the table. “Why is our daughter having a tantrum? What did you say to her?”

“Me? Why is it always my fault? I just mentioned that we
needed to get busy ordering her bonding blanket so that it would be ready in
time.”

“Rebaccah.”

“What?”

“Stay out of it. What they do is their business. Your
interference is unwelcome and unnecessary.” He sipped the tea, enjoying the
fragrant hot liquid. The temperature outside had dropped significantly while he
was stacking the wood. “I know you love Sammie but she has to work this out on
her own,” he added quietly. “If they bond then I’ll be incredibly happy to
serve as witness.”

“What if they don’t bond?”

“Then I’ll hope and pray that she finds happiness in her own
way.” He stood and carried the mug over to the sink. “Now it’s time for us to
go home and leave Samara in peace. She has plenty to think about.”

Rebaccah went down the hall and softly knocked on the
bathing room door. “Sammie? We’re going now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” When
there was no answer, she reluctantly rejoined Hamilton in the kitchen where he
silently ushered her out, firmly closing the door behind them.

Samara sat on the side of the tub, staring aimlessly at the
wall. What was she going to do now? What if Bishop still didn’t want her? She
took a deep, shuddering breath and went out to clean the kitchen. After that,
the prospect of a hot bath and bed had an irresistible lure. Tomorrow was
another day.

* * * * *

Gray skies barely gave off enough light to illuminate the
small room where Bishop rested on a narrow bed next to the fire. Bitter wind
rattled the bare branches at the window. Though several blankets were heaped on
top of him, still he shivered uncomfortably with cold. The fire provided the
only light in the room. There was a light stone on the small table next to the
bed but he couldn’t seem to drum up enough interest to touch it.

Samara had not come to see him today. He didn’t blame her.
But until she didn’t show up, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been
counting on her visits. Huddling under the heavy blankets, he wondered if he
would ever be warm again. Her absence left an icy spot in his chest that he
suspected no amount of heat or blankets would warm. Crankily he nudged the
blankets up closer to his chin. Why didn’t she come to see him today?

The door of the small room banged open but he didn’t bother
to open his eyes. He knew without looking that it wasn’t her. Her scent that
always alerted him to her presence was absent.

“Well, this is a fine mess.”

Bishop’s eyes flickered open. Dai stood over him, fists on
his hips, frowning down at him in annoyance. Bishop closed his eyes, willing
the little healer to leave.

“Closing your eyes will not make me go away.” Dai waited in
vain for some reaction. Grudging respect for Bishop’s hard-won control kept him
from reverting to mind speech. Finally, he fetched the lone chair in the room
and sat down next to the bed. “Your punishment is at an end. There is nothing
more that you can learn from working with Gar.”

Shoulders hunched, Bish rolled to face the fire so that his
back was to Dai. He had nothing to say to the healer.
Nothing.

Watching his patient carefully, Dai said, “Samara has gone
back to Lost Market.”

Bishop flinched, then appeared to shrink in a tight ball of
rejection. Dai nodded in satisfaction. All was not lost, it seemed.

“She was needed at the school. Glenys is pregnant since Trav
and Wrenna’s bond storm. There are fewer and fewer women available to do the
things that must be done.” Dai pursed his lips, then continued aimlessly with
the most recent news. “Tyger and Llyon have moved out to the cottage near
Samara so she will not be alone this winter. Arturo has gone to Talking Wall to
live with Ban. Perhaps…perhaps they will swear a covenant bond. I hope so.”

“I thought Arturo was on a
soul walk
with Hawke.” His
voice rusty with disuse, Bishop spoke at last.

“He was.” There was silence for a moment as though Dai was
making some difficult mental decision. “The archivists at Talking Wall have
made some startling discoveries. When such discoveries come to light—new
knowledge that will lead to fundamental changes in the valley, then our laws
require that a
morkert
is part of the decision process. Arturo was
chosen for the assignment.”

“Ahhh. And how did he get together with Ban?”

“’Turo was injured in an accident. Hawke accompanied him to
Sunrise, left a message for the healer to summon Ban and left. When Ban
arrived, apparently they came to an understanding.”

“Apparently.” Bish ruthlessly stifled the chuckles welling
up as he was well acquainted with the pain that would seize him if he allowed
any movement.

“It was well done. The discoveries they made were very
important. Perhaps, of all the people in the valley, they were most important
to you.”

Bishop stared into the fire, wondering what new torment Dai
was about to visit on him. Finally, when Dai remained silent, he said, “All
right. I’ll bite. What new discoveries?”

“They have discovered a way for non-virgins to bond—and have
children.” Dai hesitated. “And they have discovered that there are veils in
place that hide parts of the valley. It is possible that the veils also conceal
exits from the valley.”

Bish flinched again. Then slowly he rolled over to face Dai.
“Impossible choices you offer me, Dai. Especially now that Samara bit me.”

“I know. Do you remember that day?”

“A little. I remember how disgusted she was when she
realized that I had been with Susie. I remember her turning away and then
feeling like someone had hit me in the back with a heavy rock.” Bish covered
his eyes with his forearm and sighed. “I remember her voice yelling at me,
telling me that I needed the bite to live. She kept screaming at me to pay
attention…that I had to give her permission to bite me. Finally, I told her yes
so that she would stop the yelling. It was giving me a headache. I’m surprised
someone didn’t make her shut up.”

“No one heard her but you. It was all in mind speech.”

Bish’s eyes fluttered closed as he dozed off until the
import of Dai’s words hit him. Abruptly, wide awake, he stared at Dai in shock.
“What? Mind speech?”

“Exactly.” Dai nodded decisively. “That’s evidence of an
attachment
.”

“Shit. And then she bit me…”

“Since it is possible that will influence your future plans,
I will explain the new information from Talking Wall. In the case of past
bondings, the blood sacrifice was the woman’s virginity.”

“Well, I think that Samara’s flat out of luck on that
point.” Bishop’s dry comment didn’t hide his embarrassment at admitting his own
firsthand knowledge. “What does the Talking Wall propose as a substitute?”

“A tiny cut in the
kzusha
at the time of bonding.”

The silence in the small room was so loud it echoed in
Bish’s ears. His first reaction was an immediate repudiation of the entire
idea. Pain. Blood. No! And then it struck him that his reaction was cowardly at
best. Every woman at sometime in her life faced the pain—and blood—when she
lost her virginity. And men might beat their chests and feel macho because
their mate was a virgin but the truth was that most were not that impressed
with the actual sacrifice. Most were too interested in shoving their cocks in
their woman’s pussy to understand or value her gift. If Samara and he decided
to bond, it was a
small
sacrifice on his part that would be required.

“That’s it?” he asked cautiously, wanting to make sure that
he clearly understood what Dai had said.

“That is all. The cut is made at the same time the palms are
slashed. From the translation, only a few drops of blood are required.”

“I’ll have to think about this.”

“Don’t wait too long. It is possible that Samara could begin
schalzina
,” Dai pointed out softly. Abruptly, he stood up and carried
the chair back to its place across the room. “I must go. In the morning, I’ll
be returning to Lost Market.”

Something nagged in the back of Bishop’s mind. Something
that he’d said earlier. Then it came to Bish. “You said that Hawke left Arturo
in Sunrise. I don’t recall him passing through the village here. I’m sure that
someone would have asked him for news.”

“Hawke has vanished on Sanctuary Hill.” Dai announced it as
calmly as though he was discussing the weather.

“Why aren’t you worried?”

Frowning, Dai stared at Bishop’s face for a while, then
replied, “I don’t know. Merlyn and Jade and I all had the same dream. Hawke was
seated on a beautiful rug, leaning against the belly of a purple and turquoise
drang
.
He was smiling and content in the company of the
drang
as though he had
found his heart’s home.”

“And from that dream you concluded that he was safe?”

“It does sound foolish, doesn’t it?” Dai smiled at him a
little ruefully. “When you say it like that, we sound naïve. All I can tell you
is that we don’t sense any danger for him. And Arano had the same dream,” he
added thoughtfully. “Only in his dream, there were
drangs
all around
Hawke, guarding him.”

“
Drangs
only appear when it’s time to train the high
clan chief.”

Dai took a deep breath and then agreed. “That is so,
according to legend.”

Remembering the implacable young warrior who banished him
but joined him in his banishment to protect him, Bish suddenly grinned. “Why am
I not surprised?”

* * * * *

As darkness fell on the village, two very tall dark blue men
crept along the side of the healer’s home avoiding the occasional patches of light
from the windows. When they reached the back door, the small porch was dark and
the door was open a bare crack. Rapidly, they entered and softly shut the door.