The Betrayal Read online

  Eliani took a small leather pouch from her belt and emptied it of a spare bowstring, then put the ear into it. “They have never come this close to Highstone before. They must have crossed at Midrange and come up through the South Wood.” She turned to face Turisan. “I fear I must cut short our excursion. My father should know of this at once.”

  “Of course.”

  “And we had best offer atonement.”

  Eliani grimaced with the words, and Turisan sympathized. It was part of the paradox of living in the flesh-bound world that the ælven creed sometimes was difficult to keep.

  Slaying kobalen was part of a guardian's duty, but because doing harm was against the creed, they must ask forgiveness from the ældar who watched over the creatures, no matter how much harm the kobalen themselves had wrought. Their ældar must be honored, even as the hunter thanked the ældar of his prey, the farmer the ældar who watched over his crops.

  Luruthin and Gharinan began to gather fallen wood and pile the kobalen bodies atop it in a clear space. Eliani joined them, and Turisan returned to where the surviving kobalen lay.

  It breathed shallowly, close to death. Turisan leaned over it. “Why does your friend wear a ring in his ear?”

  The kobalen gazed at him, eyes already seeming dull. At first he thought it had not understood, but then it drew a deep breath and spat at him.

  Turisan dodged. Furious, he drew his belt knife and made one swift slash across the creature's throat. It gurgled, eyes wide with alarm, then was still.

  Turisan stood and wiped his knife blade, regretting his angry impulse. It was possible he might have coaxed more information from the kobalen, but he had little patience with the creatures. No use bemoaning his action, for it was dead now. He picked it up and carried it to the pyre.

  The others had gathered the rest of the kobalen. The four of them stood around the pyre, and Eliani spread her hands toward it.

  “Ældar guardian of these creatures, we pray you pardon the destruction of their lives and the waste of their flesh. We honor their spirit and commit their bodies to flame.”

  Turisan added his silent atonement. He spread his hands, as did the others, and closed his eyes in concentration. Narrowing the focus of his khi into his palms, he sent it forth into the dry wood beneath the kobalen and placed a spark there, willing it to set the wood alight, pouring his energy into the creation of fire. He could feel the others doing the same, and soon the pyre was aflame.

  Opening his eyes, he stepped back, away from the stink of burning kobalen flesh. Eliani turned from the fire, pausing as she met Turisan's gaze. She had shown no fear during the encounter, only the skill and quick response of a seasoned guardian. She had been magnificent, in fact, and he wished to compliment her, but a hardness in her eyes stayed him. She was on guard still, though against what he could not say. She dropped her gaze as she turned toward the horses.

  “Let us hasten to Highstone.”

  Lord Felisan received the news of the kobalen intrusion with a sternness that surprised Turisan, who had formed the impression that Alpinon's governor was perpetually merry. There was nothing soft in Felisan's response, however. He ordered an immediate doubling of patrols in the South Wood.

  “I will dispatch my letter to your father this day, Turisan, unless you wish to carry word to him yourself.”

  Turisan glanced from Felisan to Eliani, who was staring down at the kobalen's ear that lay on the table between them. He might be forgiven for returning at once to Glenhallow.

  “No.” He looked back at Felisan. “I am expected to attend your cousin's handfasting. If I were to depart in haste, it might further alarm your people. My father will lose nothing by receiving word from your courier, and my presence at the handfasting might give some reassurance.”

  Felisan nodded, slowly smiling. “Wisely said.”

  He went to a shelf and brought out parchment, ink, and pens. “You may add your own message if you care to.”

  “Thank you. I would gladly enclose a note.”

  Turisan wrote a brief two lines to his father, assuring Jharan of his return after the handfasting. He gave the note to Felisan, who folded it inside his own letter and bound it with ribbons of violet and blue.

  The company at Lord Felisan's table was notably thinner that evening, and shadowed with worry. Gharinan and Luruthin were absent, gone to carry word of the kobalen to their villages.

  Eliani had changed into a blue-gray gown; rather shapeless, but it draped nicely along the lines of her body. She seemed lost in thought and more than once returned vague answers to Turisan's attempts at conversation.

  In this dampened mood, most of the company retired early. Sensing that Lord Felisan would prefer to retire as well, Turisan took his leave. Eliani glanced up and smiled an absent farewell as he left the hall.

  Outside he paused to gaze up at the moon. It was nearly full, blue-white light casting strong shadows. He would take this chance to explore, for the next night he would be preparing to depart or already traveling. He felt regret that he must leave Highstone so soon, and frustration that the shadow of the day's events had spoiled the plea sure of his visit. He would visit the Shades regardless and take that memory home with him.

  Two streets diverged from the public circle: the one he had taken that morning with Eliani and her kin and another leading southeast, down the valley. Looking toward the first, he considered a visit to the hot springs but instead chose the other path. There were springs near Glenhallow. This might be his only chance to view the Three Shades by night.

  Eliani had said she would show the falls to him, but he thought it best to leave her be. Her mood had been dark through the evening, and he doubted a demand to be escorted to the Shades would improve it.

  The road out of Highstone led to a bridge that crossed the Asurindel. On the far side the path ran both ways along the foot of stone cliffs. He took the westbound branch, guided by the distant rumble of the falls.

  Long before he reached them, the air became damp and heavy with water-scent, and the sound of the cataract increased to a roar. He felt unsettled, a sensation he knew well from the fountain court at Hallowhall, for water, especially moving water, interfered with khi. Here the effect was far more powerful than he was used to, blocking his awareness of the small creatures and the green growing things around him.

  He followed the path around a sharp rock outcrop and suddenly found himself at the foot of the cascade. The roar of the falls battered at his khi, and a dark pool spread from their foaming base.

  Near to the pool, half-hidden by mist, stood a trio of conces. Each small, pointed pillar of carved stone marked the spot where an ælven had died in circumstances of distress. Turisan approached the monuments, peering at them in the moonlight. They stood waist-high, their edges and carvings long since worn soft beyond reading by water and wind. Perhaps they had been placed in memory of the Three Shades themselves. Not entirely a legend, then.

  With mist billowing in his face, he started up the footpath, wondering how anyone could ever hope to hear the shades' lamenting over the noise of the falls. Treacherous at first, the path soon became less slippery as he ascended. The noise of the waterfall receded. At the top of the cascade he paused to gaze out over the dizzy height. Stars glimmered faintly beyond the blazing moon.

  His head was near level with the easternmost cascade. The two great rocks that split the river towered into the night. He could see the cliff wall through the water just an armspan away and was conscious of the river's silent power as it slipped over the edge. So clear was the water that he was tempted to reach through it to touch the dark stone beneath, but he knew that to do so would be fatal. Asurindel might be near silent here, but it was no less powerful than the raging maelstrom below.

  A strange elation filled him as he stood at the top of the falls. He could understand why the legend had persisted. A place of such raw power inevitably must host legends.

  A sound drew his attention to the footpath. He turned to s
ee Eliani approaching, a dark cloak cast over her shoulders and her gown gathered into her hands. Surprised to see her, he smiled as he ventured a jest.

  “Do you stalk me again, lady?”

  “Of course not.” She tossed her hair out of her eyes and glared at him. “You would not have heard me if I were stalking you. I came to be sure you were safe. The path can be dangerous even to those who know it.”

  “The moon is bright enough.”

  What ever answer she would have made was lost as she trod on the hem of her gown.

  Turisan flung out an arm to keep her from falling, his heart racing with alarm. She regained her balance without his help and gave him a rueful smile.

  “I am not very graceful in gowns.”

  “Let others judge that.”

  Her smile turned bitter, and she looked away, toward the Shades. Turisan did the same, wondering how his words could have offended her. After a moment he tried again.

  “The Shades are truly magnificent.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, my lady, for showing me this.”

  She looked up at him, and this time her smile was unreserved. “You are welcome.”

  A warm glow sparked within his chest, and he smiled back. She did not like to hear herself praised, it seemed, but would accept praise of her homeland. He gave it to her, speaking with open enthusiasm of Alpinon's beauties, of the wonder of the Shades and his delight in the fluttering firespear wood. All the while he watched her, enjoying the quick brightness of her glance, the dark blush that came to her cheek when he expressed a wish that he might remain to see more of Alpinon, her sudden burst of laughter at a foolish jest.

  They talked thus awhile, avoiding the graver subjects that hovered unvoiced in Turisan's thoughts and that he suspected were also in hers. At last they made their way down the footpath, back into the thunder and the clouds of mist that masked the stars above.

  Near the bottom, Turisan glanced up at the falls, and so misstepped on the wet rock. Eliani caught his hand to steady him, and he smiled his thanks, knowing words would be lost in the roar of the water.

  He kept hold of her hand and looked down at her face bathed in moonlight and mist. Her khi was warm, tingling against his flesh where they touched. She returned his gaze, her smile fading a little as her eyes widened. He thought her quite lovely, her face showing none of the calculated seductions he was used to, only sweetness and a lingering shyness.

  Dare I kiss you?

  Eliani's expression changed to storm. Her eyes flashed with anger and her voice rang in his mind.

  What are you doing!?

  Turisan reeled. He released Eliani's hand, stunned by the force of her thought, clear as words shouted into his ear. Blinking, he peered at her through the mist.

  My lady?

  Stop it! Stay out of my mind!

  He stumbled backward and came up against the rock wall. The power of the Shades vibrated through it, relentless, as vivid as her anger. Trembling with shock, he stared at Eliani.

  Mindspeech?

  It was an ancient ability and very rare. He knew of only one living who claimed it—Lord Rephanin—and he himself had never witnessed it, never truly believed in it though he had heard the legends at his father's knee.

  Eliani's face changed from anger to the shock of dawning realization. If they truly shared mindspeech, they held a gift that would place them among the brightest legends of their folk. Mindspeech had ended the Bitter Wars, had enabled the ælven to cast out the alben forever.

  Eliani's face twisted in dismay, and she took a step backward. Gasping, Turisan reached for her, thinking she would fall into the churning water below. Instead, she turned from him and fled, running down the trail away from the falls, rounding the narrow ridge, and vanishing.

  He gazed after her, trying to understand what had happened, wanting to reach out to her, to hear her voice again, to feel the vibrance of her khi. In the brief moments of their speaking, their khi had blended as intimately as he had felt with any lover. He wanted to feel that again but knew instinctively that she would resent it. Her angry thought had stung as surely as if she had slapped him.

  He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face, finding it damp with mist. He glanced at the Shades, thinking that perhaps some legends were true. Steadying himself, he started slowly back toward High-stone.

  “Eldermother, it is Eliani! Please, may I come in?”

  Lady Heléri drew back the hearthroom tapestry, a shawl draped around her shoulders. “Child! What is it? Come in.”

  Eliani sank onto a chair beside the main hearth, where the fire had fallen to embers. Heléri's worktable stood nearby, with Beryloni's ribbon upon it, much longer now, with her name and Gemaron's woven in elaborate silver script, entwined with blessings. Heléri set it aside and sat facing Eliani, then reached out her hands.

  “Tell me.”

  Eliani put her hands, shaking a little, into her elder-mother's, glad of their warmth and strength. “Turisan.”

  “Jharan's son? Yes, what of him?”

  Eliani swallowed. “He spoke—he spoke in my mind.”

  Heléri leaned forward, gazing at her intently. “Just now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you certain? He did not speak aloud?”

  “We were at the foot of the Shades. I could not have heard him.”

  Heléri drew a deep breath and squeezed Eliani's hands. “This is a great gift!”

  “Gift?” Eliani looked up at her in dismay. “I do not want this gift!”

  Heléri released her hands, only to put her arms around her. With a gasp, Eliani slid out of the chair onto her knees and clung to her eldermother.

  “Gently, gently.” Heléri stroked her hair. “It seems strange and frightening now, but it truly is a gift, my child. It truly is.”

  Eliani coughed, wiping angrily at her tears. “I do not want him in my mind. I do not want anyone in my mind!”

  Heléri held her close until she was calmer, then helped her back to her chair and poured water into a cup for her. As Eliani drank, Heléri reached for the handfasting ribbon, coiling it out of the way.

  “I think it is time that I had converse with Turisan. Will you ask him to come?”

  “I do not know where he is. I do not want to seek him.”

  “You need not, do you?”

  Eliani looked up sharply, her heart tightening with dread. “Please do not ask me to.”

  “I will not ask it after this.” Heléri's voice was soft, but her eyes were hard and bright. “How else will you know if you can speak to him at a distance?”

  Eliani opened her mouth, then closed it again. She stared down at the cup in her hands, noticing that she had drained it. She set it on the table, ran her hands through her hair, then leaned back and closed her eyes.

  Turisan. Please come to the old hall above the circle. The stair begins to the southwest of my father's hall.

  She opened her eyes quickly as if to escape, and took a shuddering breath. For a moment she sat blinking at the hearth.

  “He did not answer.”

  “Very well.” Heléri stood and reached into the wood bin, withdrawing a small log, which she gave to Eliani. “Let us build up the fire, and I will make tea.”

  Eliani knelt on the hearth to lay the wood, finding the task soothing, for she had always loved the building and tending of fires. She used an iron poker to gather the coals up to the fresh wood. By the time the flames licked at the log, she was steady again.

  She took off her cloak, hung it on a hook by the hearthroom, and returned to watch the new flames dance within the hearth. Heléri hung a pot of water over the fire and sat at her worktable, pulling her loom toward her and taking up the strands of colored floss.

  “Tell me of your day.”

  Eliani thought back to the morning, to setting off on horse back for an excursion of plea sure. How long ago it seemed!

  “We found kobalen in the firespear wood.”

  S
he explained the encounter and the excitement that had followed when they brought the news back to Highstone. Heléri listened, her face grave.

  “I will consult with your father tomorrow.”

  “Something dreadful is happening. Something is changing.”

  The visitor's chime rang, so softly it was barely audible. Eliani glanced toward the hearthroom, then looked at Heléri, who gave a small shrug.

  “It may be Misani.”

  Eliani got up, her heart sinking. It was not Misani; Misani would not ring, and she knew who stood in the hearthroom. She pulled back the tapestry and saw Turisan there, concern in his dark eyes. A tingle went through her at the sight of him, so fair, so kind. She realized now that he had refrained from imposing his thought on her. She stepped back and gestured him in.

  Heléri favored him with a smile and set her work aside. “Sit down, Lord Turisan.”

  He did so, taking the chair that had been Eliani's. Eliani remained standing, her heart full of unease, ready to flee at any moment.

  “Tell me, my lord, what do you know of mind-speech?”

  Turisan glanced toward Eliani. She paced to the window, unwilling to meet his gaze.

  “Very little.” His voice was quiet, controlled. “Lord Rephanin claims the skill, but I have never witnessed its use.”

  “Rephanin still presides over the magehall at Glen-hallow?”

  “Yes.”

  “He is able to touch the mind of anyone in his presence.”

  “So it is said, but if he does so now, no one tells of it.”

  Heléri looked thoughtful, frowning slightly. Eliani glanced at Turisan and was struck anew by the fineness of his features, frightened anew by conflicting feelings. Something had begun to burn beneath her heart.

  He looked up at her, and she had to fight an impulse to turn away. She did not want to be rude to him, but neither did she want the closeness that was only a thought away.

  Heléri continued. “This gift has not appeared for many centuries. It is a great boon. It gives me hope, arriving together with dark news.”