The Eternal Rose Page 8

  * * * *

  Night fell quickly in Daryath, a blanket of darkness floating gently down over the city to offer respite from the fierce sun. Kallista sent everyone off in their designated pairs not long after dinner because she wanted to practice calling magic at a distance and to practice the dark veil. She'd even insisted that Torchay, Obed and Leyja retreat to other rooms, though she had to accept Keldrey's presence beside her army-assigned bodyguards when they all threw fits about her being insufficiently guarded.

  The demon-destroying magic came to her hand as easily as if they had all been standing next to her. But once she had called it, she didn't quite know what to do with it, given that they didn't know where or how many the demons were. So there she stood, in the middle of the embassy's private garden courtyard with her hands full of magic and nowhere to send it.

  She certainly didn't want to kill anything but demons with it, not even grass, as she'd once done while practicing on the Adaran plains. Daryath didn't have enough vegetation to be able to spare any. Nor did she want to put anyone to sleep, which the dark magic could also do. She needed everyone alert and aware.

  In addition to all the other considerations, Kallista did not want to alert the demons to her intent, if they did not already fear that she had come to destroy them. She twisted the magic into multi-flavored strands and amused herself by braiding and weaving it into pretty designs while she tried to think what to do with it. She'd tried once to use the magic to teach, but in the confusion of the Barbs’ rebellion, had no way to discover whether it worked as intended. She could put the magic back, but that defeated the purpose, didn't it?

  Shouts in the street came over the walls of the courtyard.

  "What is that?” Kallista found Keldrey in the shadows.

  He passed a hand signal to a guard near the gate who trotted off, returning a few moments later. The young soldier snapped to attention. “Fighting, my Reinine. In the street outside. The captain stationed with the embassy says it's likely duels between competing Lines. Might be a few Sameric clerics as well. They don't like Adarans on principle, the captain says."

  "Thank you.” Kallista smiled and the soldier blushed. Goddess, they got younger every year. She sent him back to his post.

  But his report gave her an idea. “Peace,” she whispered to the magic. “Calm. Good sense."

  She willed those things into the magic and drew a bit more of Stone's joy to add ... because. A little calm good sense would benefit everyone, even those standing watch. Could she do this? She'd never tried it before, had no idea what might happen. Surely nothing bad, not with peace and good sense willed into it. She gave the magic a metaphysical kiss and threw her hands wide, setting it free.

  It burst in all directions at once, no dark veil this, though it carried the same power. The Godstruck magic was pure magic, its purpose willed into it by the naitan who called it. It glowed, a pearlescent shine of all colors and none. And as it flashed from her, so quickly it seemed a trick of the moonlight, through the walls and into the streets, the shouting faded and then ceased.

  A long moment after the magic passed them by, the guards around the walls protecting the embassy let out a breath, or perhaps took one in, a sort of gasping sigh. Keldrey blinked at her, as if dazed.

  "Are you all right?” Kallista reached him in three paces, took his arm.

  Keldrey put his other arm around her, bringing her into a close, casual-seeming embrace. “Better than all right.” He shook his head. “I feel ... blessed. Like the One just stooped down and gave me a kiss. The magic?"

  Now Kallista blinked. She hadn't known the magic could do such a thing. “It must have been. Why didn't I feel it?"

  "Maybe because that's what you feel every time you call it?” Keldrey gave her a brief, tight squeeze, but didn't let go.

  Kallista slid her arm around his solid, stocky body, wishing she could give him a kiss of her own. She had come to love this rough and steady man, and she didn't like pretending otherwise. And she felt even more guilty for failing to practice the magic over the past years, to experiment with what it might do. To use it as she could have. As she should have. She could have—blessed—all of Adara with the good things of the One.

  And given Keldrey a taste of what the godmarked had.

  She stretched up and pressed a kiss to his temple, catching the barest stubbled edge of his shaved head. “I miss you."

  Keldrey chuckled and moved aside. “Yeah. Me too. You done tonight?"

  "For now, I suppose.” Kallista let him go, trying not to show the reluctance she felt.

  "The little ones'll be wanting their kisses and stories."

  Kallista smiled. “Trust you to remind me of what's important."

  "We're all important.” He grinned and winked. “But right now, it's their turn."

  When the younger set were finally quieted—the magic seemed to have energized rather than calmed them—Kallista was as ready for sleep as they were. It had been a long day. But she had yet to send her magic out hunting demons.

  Yawning, she headed back toward the courtyard with Obed and Torchay trailing behind her. At the wide doorway leading out, she paused and caught hold of the gauzy, breeze-blown draperies. Someone already occupied the courtyard.

  "What's wrong?” Torchay stepped up beside her, nostrils flaring as if he sniffed for trouble.

  "Nothing. Stone.” Kallista touched Torchay's hand, caught Obed's eye. “Wait here. Please."

  Torchay nodded, acquiesced. Obed frowned, opened his mouth as if to speak, then nodded without speaking. Kallista smiled and squeezed his hand in apology, though she didn't know what she apologized for, and went out into the flower-scented night.

  Stone stood, one foot propped on the fountain's basin, breaking bits of twig into tinier bits and tossing them into the water. Kallista put her arms around him from behind and leaned her head on his shoulder. He wasn't much taller than she, so it was a comfortable fit.

  "Should you be doing that?” He laid a hand over hers where she'd clasped them at his waist, tossing the rest of his twigs away all at once in a faint patter on the paving.

  "Probably not, but I don't care. It's dark.” She kissed the rose-mark on the nape of his neck beneath the soft gold hair he kept cropped when he remembered to do it. Just now, it curled almost to his collar.

  His laugh was bitter. “We're standing in the light of a full moon. Not so very dark at all, with Daryathi servants around to see us.” Stone peeled himself out of her embrace.

  He kept his hold on her hands, as if afraid of what she might do with them, and turned to face her, gazing solemnly down at her. “I don't want to care either,” he said. “But we have to. I want my son back. We can't give them any excuse."

  "We all want him.” Kallista led him by the hand to a wood-andiron bench that sat beneath a delicate, multi-trunked tree exploding with hot pink flower clusters. They had no scent to mingle with the honeysuckle, their color dimmed in the night. As she sat with him, crinkled petals drifted down to settle in their hair. “Are you so sure he's your son?” She had to say it.

  "Does it matter?” Stone brushed the petals off his head.

  "I don't know. Does it?” She hid their joined hands in the shadows between them, reluctant to let him go.

  "No. Even if he's another one of Fox's, I want him back.” He looked up then, the blue of his eyes somehow visible in the moonlight, and held her gaze. “But he is mine, Kallista. There's some connection, some ... thing. The same connection I feel with Rozite. I don't love her any more or less than the others, but that connection is there. And we have to get him back. Whatever it takes. Whatever we have to do. We have to have our son."

  A shiver traveled down Kallista's spine and she tightened her grip on his hand. This connection he spoke of was what a prelate naitan read to determine a child's sire within the ilian for the temple records. They spoke of reading bloodlines, but it was magic they read. The connection was weak, difficult to detect, and at the same time one of
the most powerful magics in the universe because it was virtually impossible to break. A child's cry for his parents, a parent's need to protect. If Stone felt it this strongly, Sky's situation couldn't be good.

  "We will get him back, Stone. I promise you."

  "Whatever it takes.” He stared hard into her eyes, his face more serious than she had ever seen it.

  "Yes,” she said. “Whatever we have to do."

  "No matter what,” he insisted.

  "Yes, Stone.” Goddess, could she reassure him enough? She needed to hold him. “No matter what. I swear it."

  He held her gaze another moment, then nodded, once. “Good."

  Stone swallowed hard, sudden longing in his eyes, thrumming through the link, a need simply to be held, a need for the comfort of human warmth and contact.

  Kallista reached for him and he twisted away, stumbling to his feet. “We don't dare,” he rasped out, and fled.

  An instant behind him, Kallista followed. At the doorway, Torchay met her gaze, then turned and loped after Stone. Kallista fell into Obed's arms. She hated this, but Stone was right. They didn't dare.

  Obed held her tight, pressing kisses to her hair, then he swept her into his arms and strode with her into the Reinine's sleeping room. When he would have set her on the bed, Kallista clung, her arms twining around his neck.

  He followed her onto the bed, stretching out beside her, hand resting on her stomach. He nuzzled her ear, his tongue licking out to tease. “You said you did not want this."

  "I changed my mind.” Kallista looked inside herself, where the links with her godmarked lived, and lifted out the two that tasted of Torchay and of Stone—sweet and rich, powerful and joyous. She wrapped them around herself and called magic, sharing it with Obed. She turned her head, spoke with her lips brushing his. “But we won't be alone in it."

  "I do not care.” Obed rose to his knees, dragging off the tunic that concealed his body tattoos.

  Kallista sent the magic flowing back down the links. Torchay and Stone were together. The room was designated for Stone and Merinda, but for now, Torchay shared it. None of them liked sleeping alone any more. Stone groaned as the magic shivered through him, and collapsed onto the bed. Torchay shuddered, sitting on the opposite edge when his knees gave way.

  Playing the magic as six years of practice had taught her, Kallista stripped off her clothes and pressed herself against Obed's bare, sleek skin, sharing the sensations among the four of them. She brushed kisses across Obed's cheeks, feathered them along his eyes and down his nose, cherishing Stone with Obed's body. He was beautiful. He was beloved, whether she touched him with hands of flesh or of magic.

  She reached the tattoo around Obed's navel and her tongue licked out to trace the flowing script. Someone cried out—the rough tenor was Torchay's, but it held some of Obed's dark richness, so perhaps he cried out too. She moved lower, slid her mouth over him, drawing the feel of it through Obed's link and sending it to the others. Stone's arm flew out, reaching for support, connection. Torchay caught it and they held on, gripping forearms as they writhed, fully clothed, on the bed.

  Kallista had played long enough. She rose to her knees, took Obed inside her and sent the magic spinning between them. Almost, it felt as if they were all in the same room together, loving her, letting her love them. The sex was incredible, but the love—ah, that was the glorious thing. She poured her love for them down the links and received it back in return as the magic built the pleasure higher and higher still.

  "Enough." Obed's body bowed upward, spilled into her. His climax exploded the magic, sent it blasting through all of them. Kallista held on, screamed as the magic wrung them dry, left them drained and satiated with delight before she let the last dregs slip away, back into its various homes.

  She collapsed on top of Obed, her face mashed into his neck because she hadn't the strength to move. Obed lay suspiciously still, his hands flat on the mattress beside him rather than stroking her as he usually did afterward. Goddess, what now? Didn't she already have enough emotional debris to clean up?

  Kallista carefully stifled her impatience. It wouldn't help. “Obed?” She slid off him, to the side, keeping her leg over his in case he thought about running. He hadn't done it in a long time, but coming to Daryath seemed to have unsettled him.

  He huffed a breath out through his nose. “You made love to them, using my body."

  "Yes, I did. I'd have used their bodies if I could have, but I couldn't. Not here. I made love to you too. And you said you didn't care."

  "Would you have touched me at all if you had not wanted them?” The look in his eyes accused her. “Did you even want me?"

  "Of course I did. I always want you. Always. You know that.” She moved his arm out to make a place for herself inside it, snuggling close. Touch always made him feel better, especially skin-to-skin. Her too.

  He seemed reluctant to bring his arm up around her to hold her, but he did. As if he couldn't help himself and didn't like that he couldn't. “But I don't. How can I know such a thing when you turn me aside?"

  "When did I—? Oh.” She had. Just last night. Saints. Men and their fragile sense of self. “It wasn't that I didn't want you, Obed. I did. I just—It was—This place...” She trailed off, confused, not sure she could explain it to him. A lot of things confused her lately, as if her thoughts were stolen away before she had time to think them.

  A long moment later, Obed sighed and rolled to face her, his dark eyes solemn. “You are right. This place. It has me falling back into old habits. Old bad habits. I have no need for jealousy."

  Because Obed had grown up in Daryath where pairs were the rule, he'd had difficulty adjusting to life in an ilian. Especially after the twins were born and their bloodlines followed to different fathers. It had led to backlash—a dangerous collapse of half-formed magic—when his jealousy had cut his magic off from Kallista's call.

  The situation had been resolved with the help of a set of gold arm bands that locked together, allowing Obed to give up his rigid control. Backlash had never been a problem again. Obed had learned to share Kallista with the other members of the ilian, but he still could not manage to share himself. In six years, he had not made love to any of the others.

  Obed looked ruefully at the metal cuffs he still wore, mostly because they both enjoyed the games that could be played with them. “I may yet need these."

  "Or maybe it's the demons, rather than the place.” Kallista realized what she'd forgotten. “I haven't yet sent out the magic to hunt them. Gweric said there's demonshadow everywhere."

  "Do you have enough magic left to you?"

  She smiled. “No matter how much magic I use, there is always more. The gifts of the One have no limits. The strength of the naitan who uses them is the only boundary. And I feel wonderful.” She stretched, leaning into Obed for a kiss, then drew magic, reaching for more from each of her other links.

  In the distance, she caught a faint, amused sense of Again? from Torchay that faded quickly as she wove the magic first into a spell that would scrub the embassy clean of any demon taint and protect it against further intrusion. She had to strengthen it twice with more magic before it could eliminate the last of the stains, then fed even more into the protections.

  "The demon has to know that we know it's here,” Kallista said when she was done. “After all that.” She sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, Obed curled around her.

  "All of—your hunting?” He traced a finger down her naked spine.

  Kallista shook her head. “I cleaned it out of the embassy—all the demonshadow—and warded the place against more coming in. Maybe I shouldn't send the hunter magic out."

  "If it knows that we know it is here,” he said, “why not send the magic? What harm can it do? You hunt for demons every night. If suddenly you stop, would that not cause more notice?"

  "Hmm. You're right. If it expects ... But what if it does something to Sky? Or Merinda?"

  "Would it not do
this something anyway? Even if you do not hunt it?"

  Kallista blinked at him. “Right. You're absolutely right. Were you always this smart and just never let on?"

  He smiled and bowed, a difficult thing to do while reclining on one elbow. “Association with you has made me smarter."

  "Flatterer. I know better. It's just that by comparison with me, you're brilliant.” She called more magic to shut him up. The brief, quick rush of pleasure usually did. Braiding in the separate strands, she shaped the magic to hunt and to count, to scent any different flavors of demon that might be in the city. Then she sent it out, leaving a thin strand connected to bring it home again.

  A yawn caught her, stretching her jaw until it ached. Obed eased her down into the bed, cradled her against him. “Sleep,” he said. “Today was a long day. Tomorrow could be longer."

  Sometime in the night, the magic returned, whimpering with frustration. In her dreaming, the wrinkled scent hound that represented the spell conveyed its confusion and unhappiness. So much demonshadow overlaid the city of Mestada, it was impossible to trail it to its source. And it all stank the same. Kallista scratched the long floppy ears and sent it home, than stalked the multi-colored misty dreamscape alone, searching. She also found nothing but stains and shadow.

  * * * *

  Kallista took the next morning to communicate through farspeakers with Arikon, to maintain contact with what was happening in the government at home. High Steward Edyne had the Steward's Privy Seal so business could be conducted, but there were still decisions Edyne did not want to make herself. Kallista could do her own farspeaking, but she preferred not to, except in emergency. People tended to panic when they heard the Reinine of all Adara speaking in their heads. Besides, farspeakers made excellent secretaries.

  She had just finished the most pressing of the business—everyone was still squabbling over those new mines north of Heldring—when Torchay approached and bent to murmur in her ear.