Betrayer's Bane Page 14

  She thought that would be the end of it, but she still lost her breakfast. Am I sick? she wondered, normally her she had a strong stomach and onions certainly never bothered her. The thought of the onion made her heave again. What’s wrong with me?

  Then she realized what it must be.

  “Kate?”

  It was Lyralliantha. She hadn’t been in the kitchen. They had discovered long before that she should never be allowed to prepare food. She must have seen Kate run past the front room.

  “Are you alright?”

  Kate nodded, “I’m fine.” She wiped her mouth with a kitchen rag. “This is normal.” She gave Lyra a weak smile.

  Lyra frowned, “Normal? I wasn’t aware that nausea could be normal. I understood it to be a signal of illness.”

  “Or pregnancy,” said Kate, voicing her suspicion. “I may have a third child on the way.”

  “I have not detected a child,” said the She’Har woman. “Let me look deeper.” Her eyes became distant for a while and then she smiled. “It’s small still, I wouldn’t have noticed if you had not said something.”

  “Nausea happens early on,” explained Kate. “It should get better later, but don’t tell anyone.”

  Lyra frowned, “You do not wish to share your news?”

  “Not yet,” said Kate. “Let me tell him myself.”

  Lyralliantha looked thoughtful, “This will be a secret then. Should I do the same?”

  Now Kate was confused, “What do you mean?”

  “I was almost sick this morning, but I didn’t understand why, until you explained your reason. It appears we are both going to bear young,” said Lyra.

  Kate was flabbergasted, “Are you sure?”

  “I checked myself right after I checked you.”

  That’s a handy skill, thought Kate somewhat jealously. “I thought you couldn’t have children…”

  “Not by accident,” replied Lyralliantha. “I was given permission.”

  Kate was filled with a torrent of emotions, happiness predominated, but there was a slight undercurrent of jealousy as well. She would not be the only one to give Tyrion a new child. She suppressed that feeling however, for she knew it was uncharitable. Spreading her arms she embraced the other woman, “This is wonderful. You’ll be a mother. Our children will be siblings.”

  Lyralliantha returned the hug and then stepped away, looking down as if uncertain, “I have been confused. I do not know how I should feel.”

  Kate straightened, “Do you love him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you should be happy. Don’t overthink it.”

  “The She’Har do not have children, not like this,” explained Lyralliantha. “I do not know what to do.”

  “Eat, get plenty of rest,” laughed Kate. “This is the easy part. Later you won’t be able to wait to be done with it.”

  Lyralliantha’s eyes were watering, “You don’t understand. I know the process. That is not what I mean. I am not human, but this child will be. I do not know how to be a ‘mother’.”

  “Nobody does in the beginning,” Kate said reassuringly. “You’ll learn, and I’ll be there to help you.”

  “Will that work?” asked Lyra, a hint of desperation in her voice.

  Kate studied the other woman carefully, trying to figure out what had her so worried. Whatever it was went beyond the normal fear that any new mother would have. With someone as strange as Lyra though, the only way to find out was to be direct, “What are you afraid of, Lyra?”

  “Tyrion has told me about the slaves in the camps, about why they are so savage, compared to your people. He said it was because they had no mothers or fathers to raise them. I do not know how to be a mother. Will a father be enough?”

  Kate laughed, but the seriousness in Lyra’s tone struck her to the core and midway her laughter turned to tears. She felt sad for her, for the fact that Lyra had never had a mother of her own. She hugged Lyra again. “It will be alright. You will be a wonderful mother. We’ll help each other. Your baby will grow up healthy and happy.” You’ll be a much better mother than I had.

  “None of my grove have ever done this before,” said Lyra.

  “I’ve seen you with Inara and Eldin,” responded Kate. “You will do fine. You just have to love them.”

  “That’s it?” Lyra seemed incredulous.

  Kate smirked, “No, but that’s how it starts. There’s much more, but you get to learn as you go.”

  “You will teach me?”

  “Of course. Can you cut onions?”

  Lyra frowned, “I was told to stay out of the kitchen.”

  “If I have to smell that onion again I’ll be back out here heaving. I think it will be safe for you to do something as simple as that, unless the smell makes you nauseous too.”

  Lyralliantha reached out, touching Kate’s temple, “Hold still.”

  A cool feeling passed through Kate. Her nausea faded and her stomach relaxed. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I didn’t know you could do that. Thank you.”

  Lyra smiled, “I’ve had a lot of practice the past few days.”

  “I guess I had better get back to the kitchen then,” said Kate ruefully.

  Lyra put a hand on her shoulder, “Let me. You can supervise.”

  Kate laughed, “Fine. I won’t turn down an offer like that. Keep it up and I may fall in love with you.”

  Lyra led the way back to the kitchen, “You said we would help each other.”

  Chapter 17

  Craig Roe was an uncommonly tall man, standing nearly six and a half feet in height. His hair was dark, falling in tight curls against his dusky skin. His wife, Laura, had a similarly imposing stature and dark complexion.

  Sarah found their coloring interesting. She had heard that many of the people of Lincoln tended to be darker, but she had expected something more like a heavy tan. Of course, she had seen far more exotic colorings among the She’Har, the Prathions for example, were so dark they appeared to be almost as black as coal, and that was mundane compared to the blue skinned Mordan, or the green haired Centyr.

  She wondered if perhaps humanity had once had as many different colorations as the She’Har. Mrs. Roe would have stood eye to eye with Tyrion, if he were present, and Mr. Roe would have been half a head taller. It will be interesting seeing them side by side later, thought Sarah.

  “Welcome to Albamarl,” said Sarah.

  “Is that to be the name of this new city?” asked Laura Roe. She had a deep yet feminine voice and she presented herself with an air of confidence and authority. The mayor of Lincoln’s wife was no shrinking violet.

  Sarah smiled, “It was originally the name of our home, but we’ve decided to extend it to the entire city. It means ‘white stone’.”

  “It seems premature to call it a city,” said Craig, “when there is no one living there yet.”

  “Some of my people are there already,” offered Layla, “but we hope once you see it you will want to be among the first of its new citizens.” Layla wore an elegant dress but it did little to hide her warrior’s bearing. She did not quite meet their visitor’s height, despite being tall herself, but her musculature left little doubt about which of the three would win in a plain brawl.

  At just a little over five feet, Sarah felt positively short among them. She watched Layla with concern. It was a mistake to have her here. She is no diplomat. Unfortunately, they needed her skills for the tour.

  Despite her crude upbringing, Layla was still far more skilled with illusions than any of Tyrion’s children. In fact, her dress itself was a magical fabrication. The female warden was nearly naked beneath it. No amount of talking would persuade her to put on one of the fancy garments that Kate had recommended. This had been her compromise.

  Sarah couldn’t complain, though. Layla’s illusory wardrobe was more impressive than the dress that Kate had tried to get her to wear and Sarah could see Mrs. Roe watching the other woman with admiration, or perhaps jealousy.

&nb
sp; “It you will follow me, we can show you how much we have already constructed,” said Sarah courteously, leading them down the small paved road that stretched from their complex of buildings to the edge of the new city.

  Layla took her cue. Gesturing ahead she spoke, “You can already see the tower from here.”

  “Tower?” asked Laura. “Is that what that is?”

  Sarah nodded, “It’s not complete yet, so we can’t give you a tour of it, but when it’s finished you will be able to see the entire city and the surrounding countryside from its pinnacle.”

  “What do you need a tower for?” said Mr. Roe. “It seems impractical, especially building it before the city is done.”

  “Albamarl is meant to be an inspiration,” explained Sarah. “Lord Tyrion intends to resurrect humanity’s greatness from the ashes of the past. The tower will sit above the city hall as a symbol to everyone living there. He intends to keep it open for the use of the citizens, allowing us to look out upon the world and provide a beacon of hope to those traveling to the city at the same time.”

  The tour lasted for nearly an hour while Sarah and Layla walked their two guests from Lincoln through the few buildings in Albamarl that had been finished. The questions were endless and Layla’s skillful illusions were so effective that it was difficult to draw the pair away once they had been shown what they were intended to see.

  Layla hid the fact, but the effort of maintaining so much illusory imagery for that length of time was nearly too much for her. The tower didn’t exist at all, and while the few buildings that they took their visitors into were real, most of the construction that was showcased in the distance was a complete fabrication.

  When they returned to the main house Layla made her excuses and left, presumably to attend to other duties, but in actuality she was heading to her room to rest.

  Her part was done. Now it was Tyrion and Kate’s turn to charm them.

  The dinner was one of the best they had had in Albamarl, even though Kate had had no hand in making this one. Tonight’s meal was a product of Abby’s hard work and a lot of practice under Kate’s tutelage.

  Sarah led the two guests into the dining hall but she was surprised before they reached it. Her magesight told her there was one additional person within, one that none of them had expected, a She’Har.

  Not knowing what else to do, she took them inside and showed them to their seats. Byovar, one of the Illeniel lore-wardens sat near him at the table.

  Mr. and Mrs. Roe pulled up in surprise when they saw the silver-haired man sitting at the table before them.

  Tyrion and Byovar stood as they entered. “You must be Craig and Laura Roe I presume?” said Tyrion. “May I introduce another guest who has come to dine with us this evening?”

  They nodded quickly and he went on, “This is Byovar, of the Illeniel Grove. Byovar, I would like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Roe of Lincoln.”

  The Illeniel bowed respectfully, “Well met.”

  Unused to such things the two from Lincoln were quick to copy his example.

  “They’ve come to see our work on the new city,” explained Tyrion.

  “It was most impressive,” said Craig. He tried to avoid staring, but the otherworldly grace and beauty that was so evident in Byovar was hard to ignore for those who had never met any of the She’Har before.

  Kate entered then, followed by Abby, Emily, and Ryan, all carrying plates and platters. To avoid unnerving their guests they did everything manually and when the table was laid another round of introductions was made and then they all sat to eat.

  Lyralliantha entered a minute later, followed by the rest of Tyrion’s children, except for Inara and Eldin, who were under Layla’s tired care for the duration of the meal.

  It was a crowded room, and while the table still had room, there were only just enough seats for everyone. Craig and Laura seemed suitably impressed, and Byovar’s presence probably helped that, but Tyrion couldn’t help but wonder at the lore-warden’s reason for coming. They hadn’t had a chance to speak in private before Sarah had returned.

  As soon as the meal was finished Tyrion stood, “If you’ll forgive me, I need to step out for a minute. I’ll return shortly.” He nodded at Byovar and the two left and they walked outdoors.

  “You came on a busy day,” began Tyrion.

  “I hope I wasn’t intruding, Tyrion, but I have important news for you.” The lore-warden’s face was somber.

  “I’m listening.”

  “The Centyr will be visiting you next week,” said Byovar.

  Tyrion frowned, “A peaceful visit I assume?”

  The Illeniel She’Har nodded, “Yes, but caution is always advised when dealing with the Centyr, especially this one.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “The visit is purely a formality, but given their particular talents you must be careful not to let any disturbing information be discovered…,” suggested the lore-warden, letting his sentence trail off meaningfully.

  “Their talents?” said Tyrion dismissively. Spellbeasts might be handy in battle but he couldn’t see much threat in that gift during an information gathering visit. Perhaps Byovar worried that they might leave a tiny spy behind, but it would be hard to conceal a creature of magic from so many mages.

  “They will send one of their lore-wardens, Ceylendor,” added Byovar. “You must make sure that everyone keeps their minds firmly shielded at all times.”

  Tyrion felt a stirring in the back of his mind, more information from the loshti, things he hadn’t examined yet. Why was Byovar so worried? “Why?” he asked.

  Byovar sighed, “I forget you are new to the loshti. You must think about the Centyr, examine what you have learned about them. They are the most dangerous of the She’Har to you at this point.”

  Tyrion felt a cold shock run through him at the mention of the loshti. He knew from a practical standpoint that the Illeniels had known it was him that took it. Indeed, they had all but arranged for him to receive it, without telling him, but hearing Byovar say it so bluntly surprised him. He hadn’t known if the Elders had been the only ones to know or not.

  Byovar attempted to smile reassuringly, although his expression actually had the opposite result. “Relax, Tyrion. Only my Elders know, and whoever you have told. I was only informed today, before bringing you this message.”

  “And your message, it comes from your elders?” asked Tyrion.

  The lore-warden nodded, “It does, and they wish you to know that your secret is theirs as well. We cannot allow the Centyr, or any of the other groves to learn about your acquisition of the loshti.” Byovar leaned forward, “And that goes double for the matter of Lyralliantha’s pregnancy.”

  All the cards were on the table. Lyra hadn’t told Tyrion that she was pregnant yet, but he had been watching her carefully. Now Byovar had practically admitted that she was important to his Elder’s secret plan. He glared at the She’Har sitting across from him, “I was already aware that your people had left certain information deliberately out of the loshti, but now you’ve all but admitted that you’re using me. What are the Illeniels planning?”

  “Survival,” replied Byovar.

  “But how?”

  “If I could discuss that the Elders wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of omitting it from the knowledge you received,” said the lore-warden.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” said Tyrion. “For all your power, why would you need us? What can I, or Lyra’s child, do that the Illeniel Grove could not do for itself?”

  Byovar looked pained. Pursing his lips he remained silent for several seconds before speaking, “Tyrion, please, do not get caught up in speculation about the past. They’ve given you all the knowledge they can, without altering the important choices you will make. Those choices are what you must concentrate now. Our people will be great allies in a future far too distant for you or I to see now, but what happens now, in the present, will make a large difference in how we get to that f
uture. There are several important cusps coming, moments of choice that could result in enormous suffering for both your people and mine.

  “For your children’s sake, don’t let yourself be blinded by your anger. We have wronged you, we freely admit that, but if you can find your way past that there is hope for all of us,” finished the lore-warden.

  The She’Har’s plea sent fire through his veins, “Tell that to the billions your people murdered. Tell that to Brigid, after you forced her to kill her own sister. I’m sick of hearing your excuses for evils done based on some miraculous future that is yet to come.”

  “Tyrion…”

  “Shut up,” he barked. “Tell me what it is you want me to do and be gone!”

  The lore-warden lowered his head, “The Centyr are dangerous. Keeping secrets from them is more difficult than with any of the other groves. Make sure when Ceylendor comes that he finds no open minds to inspect. If he discovers what we have done I am not sure we can protect you.”

  Tyrion took in every word and then he gestured toward the massive trees in the distance, “Thank you for the warning. Now it is time for you to leave.”

  He watched the She’Har leave, staring into the night long after Byovar had vanished from sight. His arcane senses followed the man even longer, but his mind was occupied with thoughts about the warning. How do they know the Centyr are coming? Did they receive a message from them, or was this yet another example of their magical foresight?

  Those questions were important. He knew from the loshti that they should only learn of things that somehow impacted them directly in the future. They weren’t omniscient. If their knowledge came from their gift then it meant that Ceylendor’s visit would trigger events that they would experience, a chain of events that would inform them of its cause. But what would those events be?

  Would the Centyr attempt to kill him? That would explain their warning, since presumably if he died it would derail their plan for survival.

  In any case, he could not ignore the warning, even if it made him painfully aware of the fact that he was still a puppet of the Illeniel She’Har.