VirtualHeaven (20 page)

Twenty-three councilors paced behind Einalem. Each man wore
a long purple robe, belted with a gold and black sash. Samoht led them, holding
the sacred sword aloft. Eight warriors followed, Vad one of them, a white
pillow in his hands. Nestled on the pillow were two open-sided gold arm rings.
Lastly, two youths bore eight-branched candlesticks with thick, dripping
tapers.

Maggie knew when Kered stood in the entrance, for the crowd
fell silent. His tall figure took Maggie’s breath away. He was garbed in a
white brocaded tunic that left his arms bare for the ring ceremony. She knew
the strength of those arms—and their gentleness. He looked vital and alive. No
unreal game figure was this who walked so proudly to the altar and knelt at the
High Priest’s feet.

She did not belong here, was not really a part of his
life.
Her eyes burned with tears as the realization took hold.

Endless prayers followed as Kered remained on his knees, his
head bent, his face concealed from her by the fall of his sun-streaked hair.
Maggie only took her eyes from him to watch Einalem, whose greedy gaze never
left Kered. Finally, Vad stepped forward from the warriors’ place and presented
the arm rings. The High Priest pulled the arm rings open and clasped them to
Kered’s biceps, then squeezed them closed and nodded.

A brazier smoked at the altar’s side and Maggie gasped,
gripping Anna’s arm as Samoht stepped forward and lifted an iron brand from the
coals. “He’ll be burned,” she said.

“If he is, a warrior such as he will not flinch. Let go.”
Anna shook her off.

Maggie knew that the small piece of leather the bishop
slipped under the arm ring would do little to prevent a nasty burn if Samoht
held the brand on too long, or if Kered moved. She ran through her childhood
prayers quickly and breathlessly.

The High Priest touched his hand to Kered’s head, then made
a sign. Samoht laid the brand upon first one und then the other ring. The crowd
moaned collectively, anticipating the searing of flesh.

Samoht stepped back and thrust the brand into the coals, and
Kered rose to his feet. His fluid movement belied the fact that he’d been
kneeling all night and now for another hour at least.

The crowd, roaring its approval as Kered made his way down
the aisle, shoved and pushed past Maggie to surge through the open door to
greet their new councilor.

“Come this way, Maggie,” Anna cried, tugging Maggie along.
Maggie stopped long enough to let the bucket boy gain his feet, then followed
Anna.

“Where are we going?” Maggie asked.

“Town. The ale and wine will flow in celebration. We may
meet some warrior who will eat with us.”

Maggie pulled away from Anna. “I am going back to Kered’s
quarters.”

“No one will be there. He will not return tonight! The
revelry will last until sunrise.”

“I do not care. Enjoy yourself,” Maggie said, then plunged
into the crowd, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream as she made her way to
the palace. The townspeople filled the streets, and she kept her head down to
avoid their eyes.

At the palace, she walked quickly through the deserted
corridors to Kered’s quarters. Her tiny cubical was doubly empty without a
sound from the many other chambers. Every servant was celebrating elsewhere.
Maggie pictured Kered at the banquet in his honor to be held at the great
palace hall. She knew Einalem would dazzle every male eye.

She curled into a ball and focused on home. For the last few
nights she’d been preparing herself to leave Kered by picturing her family’s
faces and imagining their joy if somehow Nilrem should find a way to send her back.
But the tears that welled and fell had nothing to do with family. They were the
direct result of the day’s ceremony. She had no worthy part in Kered’s life. If
only they had not fallen from the bench at the bathhouse! Then they would have
had an unbreakable bond between them.

The dream came again. Always the same. Kered snatched from
her arms. Blood dripping.

“Wake up, Maggie. ‘Tis naught but an evil dream.” Kered drew
her into his arms and stroked her hair. For a brief moment, she curled against
him as she had so many times on the quest, then, as if sensing that things had
changed, she drew away.

She bent her knees and clasped her arms around them. “I’m
sorry for disturbing you. Is the banquet over already?”

Kered shrugged. It would not do to tell her he had left
early to come here to watch her sleep. “I am weary. This kneeling is meant for
younger men.” He rose and unbuckled his sword belt. Maggie stood up, took it
from him, and went before him to the chamber housing his cupboards. When she
turned around, the light streaming in the chamber window glinted off his new
arm rings. Slowly, Maggie reached out and traced the two gold rings. He covered
her hand with his.

She slipped her fingers away, then rummaged in his cupboard
and withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle. “I made you something at Mada’s shop,” she
said.

He held the gift, weighing it in his palm. “You are
satisfied with the arrangement I made with Mada?” He hoped she was pleased and
content.

“Sure. He’s a dear. I guess you got lots of gifts tonight.”

Kered nodded, then cocked his head to the side. The orb-glow
from the window lit one side of his face and east the other side in shadow. But
the intensity of his gaze boiled her blood. “Open it,” she urged.

Carefully, he pulled back the cloth and revealed the silver
and glass turtle. It was large enough to cover his palm. “‘Tis beautiful.” He
turned it in his hands, admiring the detail.

Maggie tugged on his arm and led him to his chamber. She
spread a map and took the turtle from his hand. With a few quick motions, she
demonstrated.

“Nilrem’s knees! ‘Tis a marvel. I can read the tiniest of
words, see the faintest of lines.”

Like a child with a new toy, he opened roll after roll of
maps, spreading them out and moving the turtle across their surfaces. Maggie
enjoyed his delight. Next she would make him ketos, she thought, like the pair
she’d made her brother, Joe. Ketos, which had begun as leather armbands to
protect a Navajo warrior’s wrist and arm when using a bow, had developed into
wide, bracelet-like silver bands. She could imagine them on Kered’s magnificent
arms.

Stop it!
she chastised herself.
You’re going home.
You won’t be making him any more gifts.

Kered gathered her in and hugged her. “You are a thoughtful
woman. Why is it that Tolemac has no such wonderful device?”

“I suspect few of your people have trouble with their eyes.
You’re the only person I’ve seen here who peers at things as if he can’t see
them clearly.”

“A lamentable weakness in a warrior.”

“Mada told me others might think that weakness makes you
unfit to lead.”

“He is correct—some might. I care not what others may say.
Your gift will open a world for me that I thought was growing closed.”

Kered turned away from his charts and sank down on the edge
of his bed. He rubbed his temples with the heels of his palms. Maggie climbed
on the bed behind him and took over the massage.

“I want to go to Hart Fell, Ker. I want to find my way
home,” she said and knew it wasn’t a lie. She couldn’t last much longer living
with him, just serving him, not really being a part of his life.

He leaned his head back against her and closed his eyes. “I
will take you soon, I promise.”

“Okay,” she said. She’d been expecting an explosion or a
refusal. Part of her had wanted the refusal, part of her, the answer he’d given.

“Vad has been promoted. He will take my place as head of my
army. He is a good man, compassionate and fair. Maggie?”

“Yes, Ker?” She stroked her fingers along the edge of his
jaw, then back to his temples.

“What do you think of a warrior who hates fighting?’’

“I think he has probably seen too much bloodshed and knows
the folly of it all.”

He grasped her wrists and turned around to face her. “I have
been raised for no other purpose—”

“Your mother raised you to be a killer?” She linked her
fingers with his.

“No. My mother died long before she could shape my future.
No, Leoh directed my ways. When I would lose myself in books, he would have
them destroyed. He taught me bitterness and anger, impotent anger directed
where I could not spend it, and I turned it on our enemies. As I buried him, I
realized my mouth is bitter with the taste of my life.

“The swords in my cupboards have sent many to hell and
heaven—good men and bad. Yet who can tell which is which in the heat of battle?
Who can say, this man, his lifemate is ill and needs him at home? Or this man,
he abuses his daughter and should go straight to his death? No one! One just
thrusts the blade home and watches the blood flow. I do not want to be buried
until I have weighed the scale with life and hope against the blood I have
shed.”

“Then I shall pray you have a long life,” Maggie said,
stroking his temples again.

Kered moaned softly and captured her hand, bringing her
fingers to his lips. “My Maggie. What is it about you that makes me bare my
soul? Tell my secrets?”

The air between them grew charged. His next words startled
her. “You wish for me to make love to you, do you not? You cannot say the
words, can you?”

Whatever answer he wanted, he would get the truth. “Yes.
Please.”

He shook his head. His hair slid off his shoulder and the
silk of it caressed her bare arm. “I will not make love to you, Maggie. It
would be dishonorable of me.”

“Why?” she cried. Her blood was racing, her nerve endings
screaming.

“I am taking you to Nilrem’s mountain. A free man may not
lifemate with a slave. You may love me, Maggie, but we cannot have each other.”
He rose, and despite the evidence of his desire for her, he turned away and
flung open the long windows. The wind whipped his hair, and his silhouette
blurred as her tears gathered and flowed. “The council wishes to renew the
lifemating contract between Einalem and me.”

The pain of it was worse than she could imagine. “And will
you? Lifemate with her?” Maggie shouted.

He strode to the bed and gripped her arms, dragging her up
to kneel at the edge. “No. I will not have her. I cannot have you, I will have
no one.”

“Who will know what we’re doing here?”

“
I
will know. When you quicken, everyone will know.”

“Vad said there were potions—”

“Poisons! I will not have you sicken and die for love of me,
and I will not spend myself on the sheets like some boy during a dream.”

“You found what happened between us in the shepherd’s hut
shameful? Is that it?”

“Aye, Maggie. I lost control of myself from extreme fatigue.
I have seen my awareness master. I have renewed myself. I have regained my
reason and control. I am well rested now.” He let her go, removing his hands.
“No matter how I feel, I will not succumb to these desires. You are going
home.”

As Maggie hurried along the roadway, she saw a sight that
made her smile. Not much had brought a smile to her face these past few weeks.
But this did. Kered stood resplendent in his white and red tunic among a crowd
of children on a green sward, the towers of the palace behind him. He tore
sheets of paper into small pieces for them, so each could have his or her own.
Going down on one knee to their level, he folded the paper just the way she had
shown him one morning when he’d caught her idling away the time, waiting for Anna
to return with water for his bath.

Now he soared his plane high, and a flurry of little planes
joined it. The children’s laughter delighted her and touched her with sadness.
Soon she would be gone.

“Maggie,” he called, leaving the children to a chorus of
protests as he fell into step beside her. “Where have you been?”

“Walking,” she answered noncommittally.

An uncomfortable silence fell. At his quarters, he changed
his clothing and strapped on a sword. She assisted him as a squire might.

“I want to leave for Nilrem’s mountain tomorrow,” she said.

“Are you commanding me?” he asked, his tone sharp.

“No, of course not. I am just anxious to go. It’s been ages
since you promised.”

“I will have duties to attend to for a few more weeks—’’

“Weeks?” She turned away. She couldn’t stand a few more
weeks. It was all she could do to keep herself in her bed each night and not go
to him and beg him to reconsider.

She paced his chambers after he was gone. When Vad arrived,
she barely greeted him.

“What ails you?” Vad asked.

“Kered. He won’t take me to Nilrem’s mountain.”

“He is negotiating the Selaw treaty now.” Vad began to
rummage through Kered’s belongings, looking for the deck of cards Maggie had
made for him during her many idle moments.

“Could you take me, Vad?”

He froze, a startled look on his face. “T-t-take you? Kered
would remove my jewels with a dull knife and feed them to me for supper. Are
you mad?”

“No. No. You don’t understand. I didn’t mean, could you make
love to me. I meant, could you take me to Nilrem’s mountain?”

Vad pressed his hand to his heart and heaved a sigh of
relief. “Forgive me. So many women beg me to take them, it was the first thing
that entered my mind.” He patted her shoulder. “I most enjoy your company,
Maggie. You do not pet me and pull at my clothing. Now, where have you hidden
the cards?”

“I’ll get them.” She sighed. She fetched the box from
beneath her bed, and they sat on a brightly woven rug and spread out the cards.
“What did you want to play? Five-card stud? Gin rummy? War?”

“War!” Vad cried.

“I should have guessed,” she said with some amusement. As
she dealt the cards, he lifted the pendant from the box. “What became of the
chain?”

“I bartered it so I could make a gift for Ker. A ring
ceremony gift.”

Vad frowned. “It is an ill deed to part with a talisman.”

“It was just a chain. Now, will you take me to Nilrem’s
mountain?”

He stroked the edges of the cards, considering her request.
Maggie held her breath.

“Why do you wish to go?” he asked.

“Kered has a life here that doesn’t include me. I don’t
belong here. I don’t fit in. The best thing for both of us would be for me to
go home.”

“Aye, I can see you are unhappy. I will take you. This
idleness chafes at me, too. And every night some woman is lying in wait for me
outside the barracks. A journey with you would be refreshing.”

Maggie and Vad played cards for an hour in comfortable
companionship, switching from game to game. “Kered told me you are a virgin,”
Vad said.

The cards flew from her hands. She fumbled about gathering
them. “I can’t believe he told you.”

“‘Twas a confidence. He said he wants you to return home as
he found you.”

Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “Well, I don’t want to
leave without knowing what it is like to be…with him,” she said, dealing the
next hand for a game of gin rummy.

“Then seduce him. Surely, all women are born knowing how?”
Vad took a card from the pile in the center and cursed before he put it into
his hand.

“Don’t curse; it gives hints to the other player.” She
picked up a three and discarded a nine. “I don’t think I’m much of a
seductress, or something would have happened by now.” She bit her lip. “Where I
come from, virginity is not such a highly prized item. If I hadn’t told him, we
might now be lovers,” she finished wistfully.

“Then do not be a virgin!” Vad grabbed a card and began to
hum.

“Discard, you cheat. How do I lose my virginity?”

“The day after tomorrow is Virgin Day. Go with the virgin
slaves to the god Phallus, and sit upon his rod.” He tried to pick two cards,
saw Maggie’s face, and sheepishly slipped one back.

“Gin!” Maggie cried and slapped down her cards in triumph.
“What are you talking about? The god Phallus? Are you pulling my leg?”

“Pulling your leg? As I said, Kered would cut off my—”

“No, no. Jest. Pulling your leg is making a jest.”

“Your speech is most odd. Why can you not say what you
mean?” He rested his elbow on an upraised knee. “The god Phallus is a remnant
from the ancient times. He sits in the oldest part of town. On Virgin Day, the
virgin slaves who are ten-and-five dress in white ceremonial gowns and weave
flowers in their hair. They dance about the god and then sit upon the god’s
erect shaft.”

“That’s absurd.” Maggie snorted.

“Perhaps, but ‘tis a ritual from ancient times and still
practiced. Oh, and I almost forgot, kissing the bloody prepuce is considered
good luck.”

“Unbelievable.”

“See for yourself. Sit upon the god and shed your blood.
Kered can hardly protest that he would be ruining a virgin if you are no longer
intact.” He clasped his hands about his knee.

Maggie shook her head over the absurdity of the
conversation. “It would be easier to seduce him.”

“That was my first suggestion,” he said smugly. “Wear your
blue gown; it clings most fetchingly to your breasts.”

“Vad!” Maggie felt heat creep across her cheeks.

“‘Tis true. It brightens your eyes, too.”

“Thank you for the fashion advice.” Maggie rose and poured
Vad some wine.

He shrugged. “Should you wish to change your mind about the
god, I shall bring you one of the ceremonial gowns the virgins wear and a wreath
of ribbons and flowers for your hair. ‘Tis best to be prepared.”

She handed him the goblet and then sat at his side. “I
couldn’t do it. But if I tell Kered I’m no longer a virgin, do you think he
will still think it’s wrong to make love—if he’s taking me home?”

“Maggie,” Vad said, leaning forward, “Kered will not take
you home if he makes love to you; he will never let you go.”

“But I’m a slave in your world. We could never be together.”

“That is so. You could only love here, behind closed doors.
Is it enough for you? Do you know that any children you produce will be naught
but slaves as well, perhaps taken away and raised elsewhere? Can you bear it
should the council insist that Kered lifemate? If not, come to me and I will
take you to Nilrem.”

Kered’s chambers were quiet and empty in the cold
afternoon’s gloom. Kered stood a moment and listened. Only his boots clicking
across the stone floor marked his wandering from chamber to chamber. At long
last, he stood at the threshold of Maggie’s small cubicle. He drew her scent
into his nostrils and closed his eyes. How often had he stood here and watched
her sleep, wanted to climb in beside her and feel her body curl against his?

A glimmer of white caught his eye. Conscious of trespassing
on Maggie’s private domain, he stepped to the foot of her bed and lifted the
blanket neatly folded there. He stared down at a soft white cloth. It unfolded
to reveal itself to be a flowing garment suitable for ceremonies.

Ceremonies.

Kered gripped the dress in his fist and threw up the lid to
Maggie’s coffer. There on top was a wreath of flowers entwined with ribbons.

Virgin Day.

He tore the wreath to shreds, scattering the blossoms across
the floor as he stormed from the room.

Mada acknowledged Kered with a curt nod. When Kered jerked
his head toward the door of the workshop, Mada cleared his throat and touched
Maggie briefly on the shoulder.

“If you have no need of me, child, I think I will be seeking
my supper.”

Maggie nodded, her eyes glued to the silver ingot she was
painstakingly pounding on the metal. She had never cared for sheet silver and
had hammered her own at home, so the task was one of comfort and familiarity.
Sweat trickled down her temples and between her breasts from the heat of the
roaring hearth.

Mada scurried out the door of the workshop, and Kered
dropped the bar in place.

A prickle of sensation made Maggie look up, her hammer
poised over her work. “Kered.” She breathed his name.

The hearth painted a copper glow on his hair and bronzed his
skin. He raised his fist and she gulped. Clutched in his hand was the
ceremonial gown Vad had insisted on giving her—and a few ribbons.

“Why?” he choked out.

Carefully, so she didn’t fling it at him, Maggie rested the
hammer on the anvil. “I’m going home, Kered. I didn’t want to leave without
knowing…what it would be like—”

Kered flung the garment to a wooden bench. “You had but to
ask.”

Maggie picked up the hammer and smashed it to the anvil’s
surface. It rang up her arm and stunned her joints. “Ask? When? Before or after
you lifemate with Einalem?”

He stepped up to her and tried to take the hammer from her
fingers. “You would give yourself to a god of stone?” he shouted.

“Of course not! Vad suggested it. He gave me the gown. I
told him it was stupid, but he thought that if I did, perhaps your precious
conscience wouldn’t keep us apart,” she shouted back.

Kered let her hand go as if burned. “Ah, my precious
conscience.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “This, Maggie, is what bothers
me, not my conscience.” He swept his hand out to the forge.

“This?” She looked about the workshop. “I don’t understand.”

“This is what you are. A metalsmith.” Briefly, he ran a
finger up her arm, raising a shiver and goose bumps in its wake. “I know you
are not a slave, no matter your lack of arm rings. This strength in your arms
is from your skill with the metal. What if you remember who you are? What if
this activity, this work you do, sparks more than flames in the hearth? Sparks
memories? How could I stand it if you wanted or needed to leave me?’’

“Is that why you’re so distant? In case I leave? I’ve been
trying to leave. I’ve been asking you to take me to Hart Fell. Were all your
excuses just that—excuses?” Maggie gulped back her emotion. The lump in her
throat felt large enough to choke her. “Why didn’t you just ask me to stay?”

“And have you awake one morning and remember your home and
hate me for holding you here?”

“I told you all about my home. I do remember it… You think I
made it all up, don’t you?” Maggie fought against tears. “Damn it, Ker. Just
ask me to stay.”

He looked at the heat of the forge and watched the glow of
the coals. “There is no way, in Tolemac, to change your status—or mine. I
cannot bear to have you serve me when you are so much more.” Slowly, he
unclasped his cloak and held it in his hand. “I have nothing to offer you.”

Maggie drew the leather apron over her head and draped it on
the workbench. Her whole body felt hot, as if she stood too close to the
hearth. “I haven’t asked for anything.”

Kered dropped his cloak to the sawdust covered floor. “Would
you have gone to the god?” he whispered.

“I would go to no one but you,” she said softly.

He unsheathed his knife and laid it on the scarred wooden
table. “Would you? Have come to me one day?”

“I can’t imagine ever being with anyone but you,” she said,
laying aside the leather gauntlets that protected her hands.

“And I cannot imagine ever being with anyone but you,” he
answered, unbuckling his sword belt and dropping it on the bench behind him.
“This is you, Maggie, this fire, this heat. When I come here and watch you
work—” He paused at her sudden gasp. “Aye, I come here and watch you work. You
do not see me, but I see you. Your beauty enthralls me. The rhythm of your
hammer reminds me of the beat of my blood in my veins. All my desires are here
with you.”

Kered took a step forward and cupped Maggie’s face in his
hands. They were so close to the hearth, Maggie saw the sweat break out on his
face. Her hands grew slick with anticipation. She reached out and unlaced his
shirt, spreading it open, and then pressed her lips to the visible throb of his
pulse beneath his skin.

“You belong to me,” he said, stepping back and drawing his
shirt over his head and tossing it aside. “Say you belong to me,” he ordered.

“I belong to you,” she whispered, splaying her hands on his
chest, feeling the strength of his body. It was like touching the coals in the
forge. Moisture sprang up between her palms and his chest. She dug in her
fingers when his hot hands moved over her hips, drawing up the cloth of her
gown, up to her waist, then quickly over her head.

He wrapped her tightly against his body, measuring every
inch of her with his hands. The heat built from within them and from without.
Where their skin touched, sweat ran. Slowly she moved against him, slipping
along his silky skin, moaning at the sensation of touching him without
restraint. Her hands tried to know him everywhere.

When he stretched out on his cloak and drew her astride him,
she pulled away, going to kneel at his feet and tug at his boots. They might
never come off.

“Help me.” She laughed. They bumped foreheads when he
abruptly sat up. She collapsed back in laughter, then sobered as he eased his
leather trousers over his hips.