Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) (51 page)

The alternative was too awful to contemplate. If what the window showed was accurate, Nirel had used him ruthlessly. She’d cost him his chance to wield the Mother’s power. He couldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t.

True, she’d lied to him, but not about everything. Her feelings for him must be genuine. If she’d faked her response to his touch, to his kiss, she was a better actress than those in the Matriarch’s own troupe.

Kevessa was speaking. He shook his head and focused on her. “—with the Matriarch until late tonight, so it will have to be first thing in the morning.”

He tried to order his thoughts. “Tomorrow’s Restday. I’m scheduled to serve in the Temple. And Elkan won’t miss the service for anything but a dire emergency.”

“Which this is!” Kevessa glared at him, and Nina scolded him with one of her raspy creaks.

“No, it’s not.” He had to pretend he’d been fooled by what they’d shown him, while still stalling for time. “The damage has been done. Father didn’t believe me at first, but he did after he saw what Yoran made you and Nina do.”

Kevessa’s face hardened at the memory. “We’ll bring them here and show them this. Then they’ll have to admit they’re wrong.”

“Maybe Father will, but you’ll never convince Keeper Yoran. He’ll say that the demons can show whatever false image they want in a window.” He wished he could convince her that’s what Nina had done, but she’d never believe him. His attempt to save her had failed. Now she was more committed to the demons than ever.

“That’s ridiculous.” Kevessa rolled her eyes. “But you’re probably right. It’s not as if I expect Yoran to be reasonable. He’ll believe whatever helps him put the Purifiers in power.”

Vigorre carefully thought about how he would have reacted if he’d been fooled. He tried to put the anguish of betrayal into his voice. “I think we should go to Master Elkan tomorrow afternoon, after the service and the midday meal. He’ll have all afternoon to show this to anyone who needs to see and to deal with whatever comes of it.”

Kevessa sighed and shook her head. “I guess it won’t help to upset him when he’ll just have to wait to do anything about it. What do you think, Father?”

Gevan had been sitting silently, watching. Vigorre had almost forgotten his presence. He shook his head. “We’ve underestimated Yoran Lirolla before. I hate to give him even a few more hours to work against us.”

“But will it change anything if Master Elkan learns of this tonight instead of tomorrow? It’s clear now that Yoran wasn’t behind Nirel’s story. The Matriarch won’t have any reason to arrest him.”

“True.” Gevan chewed on his lip. “I suppose it really won’t make any difference.”

Kevessa grimaced. “It would be different if Nirel were here. We’d have to confront her right away. But she ran off with Ozor. I think she must have realized I’d eventually investigate her story and discover the truth. It won’t surprise me if she stays in Giroda or wherever they’ve gone and we never see her again.”

Vigorre nodded along with Gevan, his throat dry. The measles that had forced Nirel into hiding had saved her. The Matriarch wouldn’t hesitate to throw her in the dungeon for giving the Purifiers such a powerful weapon to use against her. And not the relatively mild upper section he’d seen, either, but the grim depths. He couldn’t let that happen to her. He had to warn her so she could flee as soon as she was healthy enough.

What if he was wrong, though? What if the window had shown what had really happened? He hated to consider it, but maybe it was foolish to believe Nirel had lied to him about so much else, but told the truth about this one crucial detail.

He had to force her to reveal the truth. Directly questioning her would leave doubts, no matter how passionately she defended her version of events. But perhaps he could trick her into betraying any secrets she was still hiding.

He rubbed his forehead. “All right. After the midday meal I’ll meet you at the palace. We’ll go to Master Elkan together.”

Kevessa consulted Nina, then nodded. “Agreed.”

Gevan pulled back the curtain and squinted into the night sky. “If you’re finished, we need to go home. It’s nearly midnight. Alitta will be furious I kept you out so late.”

Vigorre managed to keep his composure while they drove to the upper section of the city. The carriage dropped him off at the Rothen mansion. The house was quiet; the footman who let him in blinked sleepily. Father and Nathenarre were long abed. He slipped upstairs, passed the door to his bedroom, and walked softly down the long hallway to the guest room where Nirel was convalescing.

He ignored how improper it was to open her door and enter. If anyone caught him he’d claim he heard her cry out and feared her fever had worsened. The illness had been severe enough the excuse would be believable, although she seemed to be past the worst of it. The dense spotty rash that covered her body had faded from scarlet to dark brown, and the worst of the itching had subsided.

“Nirel!” he hissed.

She stirred and moaned. “Leave me alone.” She rolled over and pulled the covers over her head.

“Nirel, wake up. Kevessa’s on her way to the Dualist Quarter with Nina. She’s tracing your movements with windows. She’s going to see everything.”

Nirel sat straight up, clutching the covers to her chest even though she was wearing a modest nightgown. “What? Why didn’t you stop her?”

His heart raced. But the fear in her eyes could be for the secret of her faith. He had to push further. “It’s all right. She won’t care that you’re Dua—I mean, Faithful. And she’ll see you tell Elder Davon about the demons. Then she’ll know for sure we’re telling the truth.”

Nirel swallowed hard, visibly forcing down panic. “I guess.”

Smash it, that could mean anything. “That is what she’ll see, isn’t it?” He strode to the bed and loomed over her in the dark, striving to make his voice menacing. “There’s nothing else she might learn? Nothing you haven’t told me?”

“Vigorre!” Nirel shrank back, the crusty scabs on her face darkening it so much he couldn’t see her expression clearly. “Of course not.”

“You don’t want me to stop her, then?” He deliberately glanced out the window. “There’s still time.”

She followed his gaze. “It would be better if she doesn’t find out that I’m Faithful. I’m not sure she’ll be able to accept it.”

“And then she won’t see how Elder Davon told you to lie to me.” He whipped his head around as he spoke to see what her moonlight-bathed face would reveal.

Only shock and confusion. “What? Vigorre, what are you talking about? Of course there’s nothing like that for her to see.”

He sat down on the bed, breathing as hard as if he’d just run a mile. “It was a lie, then.”

“What was?”

“Kevessa took me to the Dualist Quarter and showed me a window with you and Elder Davon, a couple of days before the ball where we met. He coached you in the story he wanted you to tell me, and the two of you worked out the details and practiced until you could say it convincingly.” He rubbed his eyes. “But of course a demon can make a false window. It didn’t fool me, but I had to make sure. I’m sorry.”

“That must have been horrible.” She crawled to him and put her arms around his shoulders. “They’re so cruel. But at least you figured out what they were doing.”

“Yes.” He turned to meet her embrace and wrapped his arms around her. Her body pressed against him, warm and slender. Her head tilted up, her mouth seeking his. He bent to meet her, pouring all his love, all his trust, into the kiss.

She made a wordless sound of pleasure, demanding more with lips and tongue. He gave it to her, losing his worry and fear in the joy of her touch. Her hands roamed over his body. They tugged his shirt free of his breeches and slid hot and sweet against his skin.

His heart raced. It was dark, and quiet, and private. She was willing, eager even. No one would ever know.

He pulled away. “Dear Mother, Nirel, you’re still sick. You need to rest.”

She followed him, scooting across the mattress. “I feel much better. I’ve been so lonely, Vigorre. I’ve missed you so much. Stay with me, please? Just a little while?”

“I can’t.” He stood up, pushing her down. “Kevessa is going to report you to Master Elkan tomorrow, and he’ll go to the Matriarch. I had to play along so they wouldn’t suspect me. They all think you’re off with Ozor, so you ought to be safe for a while. But we’ve got to get you out of here, out of Ramunna. Otherwise you’re going to end up in the dungeon.”

She gaped at him, her face transforming from desire to horror. “They’ll never trust me again. I won’t be able to stir up conflict between the wizards and the Matriarch.”

“That’s my job now.” He pressed her shoulders gently back. “Lie down. Go back to sleep. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make sure they think I’m fully on their side. I’ll find a way to turn the Matriarch against them. And I’ll come up with a way to get you out of the city.”

She resisted the pressure. “I’m not leaving. I can go to the Dualist Quarter. Elder Davon will find somewhere for me to hide.”

He swallowed and stepped away. “So you can leave with them when they sail for Tevenar.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were steady on his. “It’s what I want. To live openly with my people, without fear of persecution.”

“So what was that about, a minute ago?” He gestured toward the bed.

She looked to the side. “I got carried away.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug that was both apologetic and inviting. “I let you kiss me the first time because Elder Davon told me to do whatever it took to make you trust me. But only that once. Always after that it was because I wanted to.” She lifted her eyes to his, raising a hand to toy with her hair. “I have his permission to break any Ordinance it takes to bind you to me.
Any
Ordinance.”

He gulped. “You don’t have to do anything more. I already am.”

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I’ll probably never have another chance to be with someone I really want. Father will choose a Faithful husband for me, probably someone a lot like him. I’ll obey, of course. His word is to me as the word of the Lord of Justice.” She sighed wistfully. “I just thought, before that happens, maybe we could, you know…”

He might have given her what she asked for, if the remnants of the rash on her face hadn’t reminded him how weak she still was. It would be contemptible to take advantage of an offer she’d probably regret in the morning. He had no convenient wizardry available to prevent consequences.

And he wasn’t entirely sure she meant what she said. She might still be using him to accomplish some deeper layer of her convoluted Dualist plans.

“I’m sorry, Nirel.” He backed to the door. “I can’t. Not if there’s no future for us.”

She sank back to the pillows, her expression a mixture of regret and relief. “That’s probably the smartest thing.”

He paused, his hand on the knob. “I don’t know what Father will do after he sees the false window. He might believe it. But he won’t betray your presence in his house, not after he promised to protect you. You’ll be safe here until we can smuggle you out. I can’t believe your father was serious when he said he didn’t want you back. Surely he’ll shelter you until Ozor—”

“He was serious.” Nirel’s face was bleak. “And so am I. I want you to take me to Elder Davon.”

“All right. Tomorrow night, in a closed carriage.”

He turned to leave, but her soft voice caught him. “You could come with us. Converting is harder for someone with no Faithful heritage, but it’s possible. Elder Davon could teach you the Ordinances. Father would have no grounds to object to our marriage if you passed your Trials.”

Much as he longed to be with her, what she asked horrified him. He could never forsake the Mother, never stop striving to serve her as best he could. Not even for Nirel.

His voice was rough. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

She didn’t seem hurt, only sad. “I know. But I had to ask.” She sighed. “Good-night, Vigorre.”

“Good-night.” He hurried through the door and pulled it closed behind him before she could say anything more.

* * *

Nirel rolled over and buried her head in the pillow. She had a terrible urge to scratch until her nails tore her healing skin into a raw bloody mess. Lady Nathenarre had trimmed them down to the quick when she first arrived, but after a week they might have grown long enough to ease the awful itching, at least momentarily.

She’d failed. She’d accomplished nothing Elder Davon had asked of her. Now all her secrets were exposed and her usefulness as a Faithful agent was at an end.

She didn’t even know if Vigorre really believed her or was just pretending. He’d evaded her last desperate attempt to entrap him. If she’d been able to persuade him to sleep with her, his sense of responsibility would have bound him to her forever. He would never have let himself be convinced she was lying, no matter what proof he saw. Now his belief rested on nothing but the love for her he claimed, and the trust that the revelations of the past week had stretched to a very thin thread indeed.

He was the only one left in a position to set the Matriarch against the wizards. If the thread broke and he went over to the wizards’ side, the Faithful would lose their chance for freedom. It might be another thousand years before such an opportunity came again.

She refused to let that happen. Somehow she’d find a way to fulfill her mission if Vigorre couldn’t or wouldn’t.

She rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. Her energy was nearly back to normal, and Lady Nathenarre had assured her that the last traces of her rash would be gone in a few days. When it was, she’d be ready to act.

Thirty-One

J
osiah held his breath as Sar tapered off the flow of power that accelerated the growth of the Matriarch’s child. He checked each of his senses in turn, finding only the serenity of a properly functioning body. The cinnamon flavor of pregnancy mingled pleasantly with the rising bread smell of the growing child. The deep chords of the Matriarch’s body harmonized with the treble tones of the baby’s. Warm water flowed over Josiah’s skin. The child’s blue swirls of blood and yellow glow of flesh were a miniature copy of its mother’s.