VirtualHeaven (12 page)

The vehemence of his response took her by surprise. “You
don’t—do not—believe that?”

“Aye. And now, Kered.”

“Kered?”

“Aye, Kered. Now he looks upon me with the same loathing.”

“I do not understand.” She looked in confusion from Vad to
Kered.

He leaned closer. “Kered was the one man who did not slay me
with his jealousy. Until today.”

“Jealousy? Why would he be jealous of you?” She leaned
closer. Their heads almost touched as they whispered.

“In my younger days, I was often indiscreet. The women,
they…” He cleared his throat. “Suffice to say, I have had no difficulty
attracting whatever female I wish to my bed. Kered is the one who taught me
that ‘twas wrong to take such advantage. Yet it amused him. Most men do not
wish me for a friend in fear that their lifemates or sisters or daughters will
want me.” He sighed. “Kered has always treated me as a brother. Never shunned
me. Until now. I saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. He has finally
found a woman he wishes to possess. He thinks I will steal away your
affections. These damnable looks!” He drew the blade sheathed at his waist and
stabbed its point into the dirt at his feet. “Would that I could scar this
face.”

Maggie reached for Vad’s hand.

He snatched it back. “Do not touch me, or he will think you
want me.”

“No, he will not. He doesn’t even like me.”

“He has never looked at me like the others—until today. Now,
he is just like everyone else—jealous. It can only mean he cares a great deal
for you. For his sake, for the sake of our friendship, you must make me a
promise. No matter how this face and form of mine should draw you, you will
resist.”

Maggie gasped, then choked, then ducked her head so she
wouldn’t offend him by laughing. “I promise,” she said solemnly, raising her
hand in the Girl Scout salute. “I will resist with all my might.”

They sat in uneasy silence for a few moments, then Vad
cleared his throat to speak. “Kered has much on his mind. It is important we
not add to his burdens.”

“Is there something troubling him—beyond the quest, that
is?”

“Samoht. The two have been rivals for years and on many
levels.” Vad glanced in Kered’s direction and then lowered his voice. “You know
of his betrothal?”

“Not really.” Maggie felt a quick pang of jealousy. “I only
know of someone named Einalem.”

“Ah, the fair Einalem.” Vad’s words didn’t go with his
sneer. Even Vad’s sneers were alluring.

Maggie shook her head. Gwen would never believe that this
man was real.

“Tell me of the fair Einalem,” she urged.

“How come you to know of her?’’ Vad asked.

“I overheard Ker and Nilrem, but I’d like to hear about her
from you.”

“Einalem and Kered have known each other since they were
children. Her ancestral line descends from the great Ruhtra, as does Leon’s.
Without those ties, a life-mating would not have been considered between them.
Kered was not pleased when first her name was proposed. The council often makes
these decrees without thought for those involved.”

“Did he love her?” Maggie twisted a strand of her hair about
her finger, trying not to let an edge of jealousy creep into her voice.

“Love? Poet’s words. I suppose Kered felt for her as one
would a sister. We all learned at Nilrem’s knee, as did the other children of
the council members. Our companions were the same. Her brother, Samoht—”

“Samoht!” Maggie sat up straighter in dismay. “I had no
idea.”

“Aye. You can see how her betrothal to Kered would anger
Samoht. It would bring their families into play whenever they were at cross-purposes.”

“Go on,” Maggie urged, leaning forward into the cocoon of
the fire’s warmth. “Why didn’t she accept Ker? How do you feel about that?”

“One question at a time. I believe Einalem’s rejection was
at her father’s behest. The treaties gave much power to Kered. Her father and
Samoht probably decided it made him too formidable a foe should Leoh die.”

“Forget politics for a moment. How does he feel about the
lady’s rejection, personally?”

“Relieved,” Vad stated emphatically. “Relieved that he would
not be brother-by-mating to Samoht.”

Maggie linked her fingers about her knees. “It would be hard
to be lifemates under those circumstances.”

“Aye ‘twould test all seven levels of awareness.” Vad fell
silent, then he cleared his throat. “Of course, there would be compensations.”

“Compensations?” Maggie wondered what Vad could mean.

“Oh, aye. They do not call her the fair Einalem for no
reason.” There was an easily detectable bitterness in his voice. “She is
beautiful. As breathtaking as one of the ancient goddesses. Her hair is like
the silver snow on Nilrem’s mountain.”

“But Ker doesn’t really want her, does he?” Maggie tried to
control her jealousy.

“It matters not. Einalem rejected him,” Vad said, closing
the subject.

Maggie struggled to her feet and tiptoed past Kered’s
sleeping form to Windsong’s side. She leaned her head on Windsong’s warm neck.
The scent of his dusty coat raised memories of home, of currying her
grandmother’s horses, of sweeping out the stables.

I hope this quest is over soon
, she thought, as she
stroked her hand along Windsong’s neck.
I have to go home, I have to—before
I fall in love.

Every muscle of Maggie’s body ached from the punishing pace
the men set. Surely, she had calluses on the calluses on her rear from the
hours of riding.

Maggie became aware of a change in Kered’s posture. Where he
had been relaxed, at one with his mount, now he had grown rigid, every muscle
she leaned on taut in expectation. Vad rode up from his position behind them to
shout, “The sea.”

Stretched before her lay an amethyst sea. Lacy edges
embroidered the waves. Gentle, lapping waters met a white sandy beach. The
stark contrast of colors against black cliffs took her breath away. They came
to a halt at the edge of a cliff, giving her a panoramic view of the shore.

Dark shadows in the nearly black cliffs might be caves or a
lichen or mossy covering. The shadows made a patchwork of the sheer rocks. They
faced a horseshoe of a beach, standing at one leg, looking across to the other.
She put her hand on Kered’s shoulder.

“Is it here? The cup?”

“No,” he said, extending his arm and pointing out to sea.
“‘Tis there.”

Maggie looked where he pointed and saw it. A craggy island.
Small and lonely in its violet sea.

“How will we get there?’’ she asked, gulping.

“The orbs course the sky at their farthest point tonight.
‘Tis then the tides turn and a land bridge appears from this beach to N’Olava.
The sea will be flat and calm. Usually, this beach is awash, the waves as high
as a ship’s mast. If we had delayed, we would have needed in wait for the
coming and waning of yet another conjunction.”

“Thank God, then, that we’ve come in time. Do we cross on
this land bridge?” she asked.

“And be cut down by the famed N’Olavan archers? No,” he said
with a hint of amusement. “My plan is to make them think an army awaits the
coming of the bridge.”

“How will you do that?” Maggie asked.

“The turn of season leaves much debris on the shore. We will
gather any dry brush we can and set fires here,” he swept out his hand to
indicate the top of the cliff, “and here.” He pointed to the beach far below.
“Alight, they will appear as a camping army. As the guards on yonder isle await
attack from many, two men will stealthily row out and come from the other
side.”

“Has anyone tried that before?” Maggie worried her lip with
her teeth.

“Not in recorded history.”

“How will we get there?” she asked him.

“
Vad and I
will use a boat, of course.” There was an
unstated “idiot” in his tone.

“
We
will have to get down
there
before
you
men
can go anywhere.”

He grinned. Reluctantly, she thought. He slapped his reins,
urging Windsong along the cliff’s edge. They came to a steep path and Maggie
was grateful that Windsong was sure-footed and rested. Vad’s white mount picked
his way almost daintily behind them. Maggie squeezed her eyes closed and
pressed her face into Kered’s back. He laughed and she pinched his arm. What
seemed an interminable time later, they reached the sheltered beach.

The wind whispered and Maggie welcomed the salt-scented air
that lifted her hair and dried the sweat on her brow.

Kered wasted no time. He strode along the cliff base and
finally chose a cave at the shoreline with a draped rock face that gave them a
small sheltered area to spend the day. The men tethered their horses, spending
time praising them for the long journey. Kered played a game of head shaking
with Windsong, both tossing their tangled manes and snorting at each other.
Maggie found herself laughing at the two of them. The head tossing became
buffets and soon Windsong and Vad’s mount were churning the sand in mock battle
with Kered.

“Enough,” Vad shouted. “Warok will be hopelessly soiled.”

“As are you, my friend.” Kered approached his irate
companion, whose golden splendor had wilted somewhat. There were streaks of
dirt down one side of Vad’s cloak and his boots were dusty from toe to knee.
“We will have need of the bathhouse on our return.”

“If we return,” Vad muttered, looking out at the sea. The
isle was as hidden from them in the folds of the cliffs as they were from it.

“We will prepare our fires and search for their boat,” Kered
instructed.

“What makes you so sure a boat is around somewhere?” Maggie
asked, scanning the beach. Here and there, black rocks rose like hulking
beasts, covered with a gray residue that she found on closer inspection was a
crust of tiny barnacles.

Kered stood and faced the waiting sea, hands on hips. “The
men who guard the cup must come and go somehow. They need provisions. Fresh
water. I would imagine they have several boats. One here and at least one
there.”

“How many guards?” She went to his side, putting her own
hands on her hips as he had, mirroring his stance and demeanor.

“Who knows? Their archers make keeping a full company
unnecessary.”

“Great,” Maggie muttered, remembering how close the
Wartmen’s fletched arrows had come to killing them. “Why is the cup out there?”
she asked, shading her eyes with her hand.

“The cup was stolen from Tolemac and has remained guarded on
N’Olava by Tolemac’s enemies. ‘Tis a symbol that we are powerless against
outside forces. We can only defend, not extend.”

“Who stole the cup?”

“An ambitious man with help from a treacherous female.”

“Ah, of course, the treacherous female. What part did she
play?”

Kered turned from the sea and frowned down at her. “She
played the seductress, what else?” He stomped past her and hunkered down,
opening his pack and tossing her his brush. She took it and began to brush her
hair. It felt wonderful, but the enjoyment was tempered by his statement. Vad
busied himself with their saddles and cloaks, setting himself apart from their
conversation.

“Do you think all women are treacherous?”

“Hm. Enough that men must be wary.” Kered scanned the sea.

Maggie remained where she was, standing, brushing her hair
out in long, sweeping strokes. “You don’t have a very high opinion of women, do
you?”

He shrugged. “They are most often a burden.”

“A burden?’’ She clamped her hands into fists to prevent
herself from hitting him over the head with the brush. Then she relaxed.
Perhaps he was baiting her. “Seems to me women can be pretty useful.”

“Aye, for pleasure and, of course, for barter.”

Maggie pictured women lined up in rows being exchanged for
swords and horses. “Barter!” she shouted.

“Lower your voice, Maggie, else the guards on the isle will
have no need to see us—they will hear us!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She knew how well sound traveled
over water. “But barter. You can’t barter a human being.”

“Perhaps the word offends you, yet that is what happens when
a father gives his daughter as lifemate in exchange for political power. If the
woman is not honorable, the bargain is ill-met. There are many examples in
history from which to choose; the cup is but one example.”

“Not all women are treacherous, Kered. Many are loyal,
steadfast, and an asset to the man they choose.”

“Choose?” He looked up. “Men choose.”

“In my world, women and men choose. They both choose and
they both refuse.”

Kered rose and stepped close, taking the brush and giving a
few quick, negligent strokes to his own tangled mane. “In my world, the men
choose and the women accept.”

“My experience has been the opposite. The men are the
seducers, the ones who don’t honor their promises.”

He touched her cheek. “I sense a lecture.”

“No, I’m not going to lecture you, but you have to
understand that every individual is different. There are loyal men and rotten
men, and the same goes for women.”

“What rotten men do you know?”

“My grandfather, for one. Or rather my mother’s father.”
Maggie began to walk along the cliff face, away from Vad and the isle. “My
grandmother is a Navajo.”

“I do not know this chiefdom.”

She swept her hand out in exasperation. “It’s beyond the ice
fields.”

“Ah.” He linked his fingers through hers.

“Anyway, Gran’s a Navajo. When she was sixteen, she went
with a church group to this religious retreat—’’

“She was pledged to the gods?”

Maggie thought about how to describe a youth retreat of her
century to a man who was medieval in thought and action. “No. Not pledged, just
very active in religious work.” He grunted and began to swing her arm back and
forth. They could have been a couple strolling the beach of Ocean City,
enjoying a summer evening. Suddenly, Maggie no longer found the white sand
appealing and wished for the gray of New Jersey. “Gran met this soldier. There
were many soldiers about then; a war was going on. They fell in love, or Gran
fell in love. The soldier went off to war and although he made many promises,
he never wrote or came back.

“My Gran’s life was hard after that because she had a
baby—and no husband to support them. The People, the Navajo, made life pretty
hard for her. See, the soldier wasn’t a Navajo. I learned a lot from my mother
about intolerance and being an outcast. She grew up well loved by Gran and
Gran’s family, but the community never accepted her.”

“Your mother, she found a lifemate, did she not? You are
here.” He stopped and smiled down at her.

“Yes, my father’s wonderful, but not Navajo. Mother wanted
that acceptance from her mother’s people, but never found it until her later
years. They live on the Navajo lands now, teaching, helping out.”

“So this Gran, she was betrayed by a man.”

“And her whole life has been doubly difficult as a result.”

“I think there is more than your Gran’s hard life behind
these words of male treachery.” He gathered her in, close to him. “Tell me what
your master did to you.”

Maggie grew stiff in the circle of his arms. Then before she
could stop herself, she let thoughts held inside spill out. “I almost made the
same mistake as my Gran. Listening to empty promises, believing in lies.”

He hugged her, but remained silent.

“I was so sure that Tony loved me. So sure. We had this
continuing stupid argument. I wanted to wait for—never mind. He promised me
that we would get…life-mated. One night, this man I thought I knew so well made
love to another woman.” Kered gripped her tightly. She could barely breathe in
his embrace. “I-I left him and went home to my parents’ place. He promised me
he would never hurt me again—ever. I believed every word…then I found him with another
woman. He made lots of promises—all meaningless.”

“This is the man from whom you run, is it not?”

Maggie jerked out of his arms. She imagined it would be
easier to just say yes. “I’m sure Vad is wondering what became of us.” She
turned to run.

Kered grabbed her wrist. “Expend your fury in gathering the
shore debris.”

She almost quivered with her anger. He’d heard nothing she
had been trying to say. “Anything else you need done?”

“Aye,” he answered, releasing her. “There is a rent in Vad’s
cloak that needs repair.”

Maggie bit her lip to keep from shrieking. She moved along
the shore, bending and gathering the clumps of dry seaweed and straw that
littered the beach. The hard work released her pent-up anger. As much as she
wanted to fault the two men, they worked twice as hard as she hauling the
debris they gathered up to the top of the cliff. When the task was done, small
fires waited to be lit all along the shore and across the cliff top. Both men
were sweaty and rivulets of grime ran down their faces. Their shirts clung to
their backs.

Neither complained when she tossed them dry bread. They
passed around the gourd and drank greedily.

The two men squatted near the horses and Maggie watched them
make their plans, drawing in the sand with sticks. Occasionally, Kered looked
up. Each time, Maggie made sure she was bent industriously over Vad’s cloak.
Her first thought when Vad had handed it to her was to tack it carelessly, so Kered
would not assign her such work again, but the cloak did badly need mending. The
hem might catch on Vad’s sword, or on a tree at some inopportune moment. Her
anger would not allow her to neglect the task and cause the blond warrior some
harm. Instead, she stabbed the needle through the cloth, satisfying herself by
imagining she was pricking someone else all the while.

Finally, the men rose and approached her. Vad wrapped
himself in his newly repaired cloak after giving her effusive thanks.

Kered crouched near her. Maggie waited for him to speak. She
longed to climb into his arms, but her disappointment over his lack of response
to her emotional outpouring made her keep her distance.

“Maggie,” he began.

“Yes. Is there some chore you need performed? Some woman’s
task that needs doing?”

He frowned. “Have I done something to disappoint you?”

She met his eyes. To tell him the truth would make her
vulnerable. “No. What do you want?”

“Should Vad and I die on the morrow—” he began.

She flew into his arms, encircling his neck and hugging him
with a ferocious need. “Don’t say it. Don’t say it.”

He pulled her away and shook her. “I must say it. If Vad and
I die tomorrow, take Windsong. If you ride under cover of darkness and keep the
moons to the east at night, you will eventually come to Hart Fell.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t.” She trembled, not from fear for
her survival, but for him.

Kered smoothed her hair from her face. “Where is my worthy
warrior woman who called the sword from the Sacred Pool?” His words were soft and
beguiling, his hands gentle. “When the land bridge disappears, wait one
sun-rising. If we are not back—go on alone. Loose Warok to find his own way.”

Maggie shook her head in vehement denial. “You had better
come back, because I’m not going anywhere. If I have to wait forever, damn you,
I’ll wait.”