Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 44
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"You were compassionate, indeed, to take her in despite your fears," Rain replied. "But rest assured, she possesses no mere remnant of magic, dark or otherwise. Her power is bright and shining and very strong." It had to be, or she could never have reached Bel's heart.
"Arrogant Fey rultsharts. Think they can come in and take whatever they want. Thrice-damned soul-scorched sorcerers." Den Brodson sat at the bar of the Charging Boar pub and glared into his nearly empty pint of dark ale. "Another pint of Red Skull, Briggs," he growled as he downed a swallow of what was already his third pint in half a bell.
"Make that two." The smooth, accented voice behind him brought Den's head around for a quick, assessing glance. The newcomer, a foreigner wearing a blue sea captain's coat, smiled slightly and gestured to the barstool beside Den. "May I?”
Den shrugged. "As you like.”
The man straddled the barstool. "I couldn't help overhearing your story. The young woman claimed by the Tairen Soul—she was yours?”
"My betrothed. At least she was until that damned Fey sorcerer stole her from me." Den flicked another appraising glance over the foreigner, noting the man's oiled curls, woven with gold rings, and the dark blue tattoo in the shape of crossed swords high on one sun-bronzed cheek. "What's it to you?”
"A matter of interest. And perhaps a problem I can assist you with."
"What makes you think I need any help?”
The man held Den's gaze steadily, and for a moment, Den glimpsed something hard and dangerous in the man's vivid blue-green eyes. Then the man blinked, and said mildly, "Perhaps I misunderstood you earlier. I thought you wanted the woman back.”
"I do.”
"Then do not be foolish. A powerful immortal has claimed your woman, and the courts have upheld his claim. You cannot possibly hope to stand against him unaided.”
Briggs approached with two pints in hand. The foreigner pulled a money purse from an inside pocket of his coat and extracted a gold coin. "Shall I buy this round?”
Den shrugged again, his eyes watchful. "I never turn down a free pint.”
The man smiled, revealing impressively white teeth. He tossed the coin to Briggs, then held out a hand to Den. "The name's Batay. Captain Batay. I sail a merchantman from Sorrelia.”
"Den Brodson." Den shook the captain's hand. "And just how, exactly, do you think a Sorrelian merchantman can help me best Rain Tairen Soul?”
"Is there somewhere we can speak privately, Goodman Brodson?”
Without taking his gaze from the Sorrelian, Den called over his shoulder, "Briggs, is the back room open?”
"It is," the bartender replied. "Help yourself, Den.”
Den led the Sorrelian to a small, private room at the back of the pub. As the door closed behind them, he turned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well? How can you help me?”
Captain Batay smiled. "Not I alone, Goodman. I am but the humble servant of a very powerful man. But first, as a gesture of your goodwill—" He pulled a small oval object from his pocket and held it out. The mirrored surface appeared cloudy at first, but then an image began to form in the misty glass. A wizard's glass, Den realized, used for scrying and for recording images. "—tell me everything you know about this woman.”
The wizard's glass was clear now, and the image of Selianne Pyerson, Ellie's best friend, stared up at Den from the crystalline surface.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My beloved is the sun
And I am the earth that thrives only in her warmth. My beloved is the rainAnd I am the grass that thirsts for her quenching kiss. My beloved is the wind
And I am the wings that soar when she fills me with her gentle strength.My beloved is the rock
Upon which rests the happiness of all my days.—The Elements of Love, a poem by Aileron v'En Kavali of the Fey
That evening, two bells before sunset, Rain presented himself in full ceremonial splendor at the door of Sol Baristani's humble home. Marissya and Dax accompanied him, along with Marissya's quintet and another five Fey warriors carrying several chests.
After introducing Marissya and Dax, Rain bowed to Sol Baristani. "This is how I should have begun, Master Baristani," Rain said. "In the Fading Lands, a man brings gifts to the home of his beloved to ask her family's blessing on the courtship. The gifts"—his hands gestured towards the three chests the Fey had carried into the room—"are intended to show the suitor's depth of feeling for his prospective mate. The stronger the bond to his mate, the more clearly he sees her family through her eyes. If my gifts please you, then I have seen you clearly and the bond is true. Please, open them.”
Needing no further prodding, the twins fell upon the chest that bore their name and flung back the lid. Inside, a selection of brightly colored clothes with matching shoes and hair- bows and a collection of porcelain dolls in full court dress elicited squeals of delight. For Lauriana, Rain had selected a dashing burgundy dress adorned with black lace at the cuffs and collar, matching hat and gloves, a pair of gleaming black boots with sturdy heels and buttons up the side, and a black cape with downy soft fur at the collar. The clothes were sensible, but of superior quality and workmanship, obviously expensive but discreet enough that Lauriana could wear them about the neighborhood without feeling as though she were putting on airs. On the collar of the dress, an exquisite sun-and-moonstone cameo set in gold filigree gleamed with subtle and very feminine elegance.
"Arrogant Fey rultsharts. Think they can come in and take whatever they want. Thrice-damned soul-scorched sorcerers." Den Brodson sat at the bar of the Charging Boar pub and glared into his nearly empty pint of dark ale. "Another pint of Red Skull, Briggs," he growled as he downed a swallow of what was already his third pint in half a bell.
"Make that two." The smooth, accented voice behind him brought Den's head around for a quick, assessing glance. The newcomer, a foreigner wearing a blue sea captain's coat, smiled slightly and gestured to the barstool beside Den. "May I?”
Den shrugged. "As you like.”
The man straddled the barstool. "I couldn't help overhearing your story. The young woman claimed by the Tairen Soul—she was yours?”
"My betrothed. At least she was until that damned Fey sorcerer stole her from me." Den flicked another appraising glance over the foreigner, noting the man's oiled curls, woven with gold rings, and the dark blue tattoo in the shape of crossed swords high on one sun-bronzed cheek. "What's it to you?”
"A matter of interest. And perhaps a problem I can assist you with."
"What makes you think I need any help?”
The man held Den's gaze steadily, and for a moment, Den glimpsed something hard and dangerous in the man's vivid blue-green eyes. Then the man blinked, and said mildly, "Perhaps I misunderstood you earlier. I thought you wanted the woman back.”
"I do.”
"Then do not be foolish. A powerful immortal has claimed your woman, and the courts have upheld his claim. You cannot possibly hope to stand against him unaided.”
Briggs approached with two pints in hand. The foreigner pulled a money purse from an inside pocket of his coat and extracted a gold coin. "Shall I buy this round?”
Den shrugged again, his eyes watchful. "I never turn down a free pint.”
The man smiled, revealing impressively white teeth. He tossed the coin to Briggs, then held out a hand to Den. "The name's Batay. Captain Batay. I sail a merchantman from Sorrelia.”
"Den Brodson." Den shook the captain's hand. "And just how, exactly, do you think a Sorrelian merchantman can help me best Rain Tairen Soul?”
"Is there somewhere we can speak privately, Goodman Brodson?”
Without taking his gaze from the Sorrelian, Den called over his shoulder, "Briggs, is the back room open?”
"It is," the bartender replied. "Help yourself, Den.”
Den led the Sorrelian to a small, private room at the back of the pub. As the door closed behind them, he turned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well? How can you help me?”
Captain Batay smiled. "Not I alone, Goodman. I am but the humble servant of a very powerful man. But first, as a gesture of your goodwill—" He pulled a small oval object from his pocket and held it out. The mirrored surface appeared cloudy at first, but then an image began to form in the misty glass. A wizard's glass, Den realized, used for scrying and for recording images. "—tell me everything you know about this woman.”
The wizard's glass was clear now, and the image of Selianne Pyerson, Ellie's best friend, stared up at Den from the crystalline surface.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My beloved is the sun
And I am the earth that thrives only in her warmth. My beloved is the rainAnd I am the grass that thirsts for her quenching kiss. My beloved is the wind
And I am the wings that soar when she fills me with her gentle strength.My beloved is the rock
Upon which rests the happiness of all my days.—The Elements of Love, a poem by Aileron v'En Kavali of the Fey
That evening, two bells before sunset, Rain presented himself in full ceremonial splendor at the door of Sol Baristani's humble home. Marissya and Dax accompanied him, along with Marissya's quintet and another five Fey warriors carrying several chests.
After introducing Marissya and Dax, Rain bowed to Sol Baristani. "This is how I should have begun, Master Baristani," Rain said. "In the Fading Lands, a man brings gifts to the home of his beloved to ask her family's blessing on the courtship. The gifts"—his hands gestured towards the three chests the Fey had carried into the room—"are intended to show the suitor's depth of feeling for his prospective mate. The stronger the bond to his mate, the more clearly he sees her family through her eyes. If my gifts please you, then I have seen you clearly and the bond is true. Please, open them.”
Needing no further prodding, the twins fell upon the chest that bore their name and flung back the lid. Inside, a selection of brightly colored clothes with matching shoes and hair- bows and a collection of porcelain dolls in full court dress elicited squeals of delight. For Lauriana, Rain had selected a dashing burgundy dress adorned with black lace at the cuffs and collar, matching hat and gloves, a pair of gleaming black boots with sturdy heels and buttons up the side, and a black cape with downy soft fur at the collar. The clothes were sensible, but of superior quality and workmanship, obviously expensive but discreet enough that Lauriana could wear them about the neighborhood without feeling as though she were putting on airs. On the collar of the dress, an exquisite sun-and-moonstone cameo set in gold filigree gleamed with subtle and very feminine elegance.
