Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (40 page)

now coming to the attention of the Tribunal Court!

“For the sorcery,” Josie answered. Did the man not know of it?

“Sorcery,” Dakin said flatly. When the girl nodded, he dragged her with him to the bed, made her sit,

then demanded she tell him everything from the beginning.

* * * *

“Drink,” D'Lyn demanded and she held the cup to Kaelan's lips. The palm of her left hand was slick with

his perspiration, hot from the intensity of his fever.

“How is he?” Destin asked.

D'Lyn shook her head. “Not good. I can only hope the Other will aid me in keeping His Grace alive."

“The other?” Thècion questioned.

The witch woman did not answer. She was too absorbed in her patient, making sure the icy water

flowed down his throat smoothly and did not choke him. When the barely conscious man had swallowed as much as he could, she gently lowered his head to the pillow and

withdrew her hand.

“What other, milady?” the young Serenian prince asked.

“Did you not see him yesterday, Lord Raven?” she returned, not bothering to look over at the stunned

look on his face, but knowing it was there.

Thècion was staring at the woman. How could she know of what he and Diarmuid had been discussing

the day before? Did she know the legend of the Dark Overlord?

“All the magi know of him,” came the shocking statement. D'Lyn lifted her eyes from her patient and

fixed them on Thècion. “His will be the legend of all legends, milord, for he is the Chosen. When he is

born, there will be great rejoicing."

“Then it's not me to whom you're referring,” Thècion said with some relief. “When you called me

Raven."

“Raven,” D'Lyn laughed gently. “Is that not your name in Oceanian, milord?"

“Aye,” Thècion shook himself. “I'll not ask how you know who I saw yesterday. You mean the Tribunal

priest?"

The witch woman nodded. “He has come for His Grace."

Thècion frowned. “I know. That's why Dear Mutt and I came to Holy Dale. To prevent him from taking

Kaelan with him."

Shock spread quickly across D'Lyn's face. “But you must not interfere, milord!” she was quick to tell

him. “None of you!"

“You don't mean we're to stand by while an innocent man is arrested and tortured for something he

surely did not do!” Thècion snapped. “Nick Cree didn't know anything about the Tribunal edict until we

told him, but when he found out, he was furious. He certainly isn't going to let anyone arrest his

brother-in-law and neither will I.” The young man flung a hand toward the man on the bed. “Especially

not with him in such grave condition!"

“The Other is not here to arrest him, milord,” D'Lyn said in exasperation, as though he should know that

already. “And you are the reason he won't."

The woman's words made no sense to Thècion and he told her as much, but she waved away his

objection.

“At this very moment The Other is meeting with Lord Cree's father and they are plotting how to remove

Prince Kaelan from Virago. If he is to be safe, we must make sure he is as far from his brother's reach as

we can get him."

“My sister, too,” Nick said from the doorway. He came into the room, a scowl forming immediately on

his face when he once more took in the terrible damage done to Kaelan Hesar's face.

“'T'will heal, Lord Cree,” D'Lyn assured him. “The Other will see to it once he is on your ship."

Nick's attention snapped up from Kaelan's bruises to the beauty standing beside the Prince's bed. “My

ship?"

D'Lyn nodded. “Come morning, your father will purchase a ship from the Duke of Downsgate, who at

the moment is waylaid at an inn in Wixenstead. The ship will be given to you."

“How do you know these things?” Thècion demanded, as stunned by her revelations as Nick was.

“Why would Antoine du Mer, a Serenian, sell my father a ship?” Nick wanted to know.

D'Lyn dipped her head and blushed. “To get his son, Gerard, out of his hair,” she replied softly. “He is

beginning to rival the McGregor's in producing bastard offspring."

Thècion flinched. “Gerry and I are good friends. I know he's a bit randy, but, then again, so's his father.

Duke Antoine is a fine one to grumble about bastard offspring."

“I agree,” D'Lyn acknowledged. “I am one of his."

Nick covered up the awkward moment by asking how the selling of the ship and the getting rid of a

nuisance of a son were connected.

“The Duke is selling his ship under condition that you take the Marquis with you,” D'Lyn responded.

“A'pirating?” Nick snorted. “Surely the man doesn't know that is my intent.” He shook his head. “Or my

father, either, for that matter, else he'd never sanction buying me something that could conceivably get me

hung!"

D'Lyn turned to wet a fleece cloth with chilled water so she could bathe Kaelan's fevered face. Her lips

slipped gently into a smile when she saw two bright amber eyes peering up quizzically at her from the

battered face.

“When the Other arrives this morning, he and his men will take His Grace with them back to the Boreal

Queen,” D'Lyn explained. “Once she is on the high seas, the newly named Revenant will intercept her.” She pushed a lock of lank, damp hair from Kaelan's brow. “The

pirates will loot the ship and make off with four of its passengers."

Nick folded his arms over his chest. “Kaelan Hesar being one of those passengers,” he grinned.

“Who are the other three?” Thècion asked.

“The priest, no doubt, is one,” Nick stated.

“Aye and I believe the other two are princes, milord,” D'Lyn told him. She looked up from her patient

and smiled. “From Serenia and Chale, if memory serves."

* * * *

“Why should I trust you?” Duke Dakin Cree queried. “The elders of your order are the ones who

determine policy, who are seeking Kaelan's arrest. What power do you have?"

Occultus smiled warmly. “I will be Arch-Prelate within two years, Your Grace, and I am only

twenty-five years old. With my People, I can live to be over one hundred and never look a day older

than you do at sixty.” He spread his thin hands.

“Why should that matter, you ask?” The priest leaned forward. “Age brings wisdom to the mind; aging

brings deterioration to the body. Old men are treated almost as children: their words are not heeded. But

men who have the accumulation of a century of listening, learning, and leading, as well as the looks of a

man still in his intelligent prime, are powerful men, indeed."

Dakin's mouth twisted with distaste. “I still don't see how...."

“When I am as old as you are now,” Occultus interrupted, “I will have created as much havoc within the

Brotherhood as the gods will allow. I will have narrowly missed being murdered in my sleep and will have

been ousted from the Order under dire circumstances."

“You know this for a certainty?” Dakin quipped, not having had much traffic with sorcerers or seers in

his sheltered life as an ambassador.

Occultus looked down at the palms of his hands and nodded. “I have seen my future, Your Grace, and

know well what lies in store for me. It is for that reason that I seek to make sure young Kaelan Hesar

lives. The child of his union with your daughter will play a very important part in destroying the evil that

has come."

The thick red brows of Dakin Cree drew together over his hook-like nose. “Of what evil do you

speak?"

The priest took in a long breath then exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving the older man's face. He

threaded his long fingers together in his lap and sat there quietly for a moment, listening to the popping

sounds the wood in the buttresses overhead made as the Temple of the Wind settled on its foundation.

“You have heard rumors of what goes on at the Abbey of the Domination,” Occultus finally stated,

breaking the long silence Dakin had been content to keep with him.

An uneasy look passed quickly over Dakin's broad face. “I have heard vulgar things about the

Brotherhood, if that is what you mean."

Occultus nodded slowly. “And most of what you have heard is true.” He watched the disgust shift the

florid features of his listener. “There are worse things than desiring your own sex for pleasure, Your

Grace."

“I can think of none!” Dakin snapped.

“What of molesting children?"

The Chalean Ambassador jumped as though he had been prodded with a hot iron. His eyes grew wide

in his face. “You can not be serious!” he accused. “Surely not even the black sorcerers of your Order

would do such a thing!"

“They do and will continue to do so until the Dark Overlord's time comes,” Occultus broke in. “Not

even he will be exempt from their perfidy, Your Grace, nor will his son be, but he will put an end to it as

surely as we sit here speaking."

“And you are a part of that?” Dakin grated, his lips drawn back over clenched teeth. “I will not stay one

moment longer in your company!” He made to get up, but Occultus reached out a staying hand, gentle

yet firm, and prevented him.

“I have never laid hands to a child in my life, nor will I ever. That is the major reason I wish to be a part

of seeing the Brotherhood destroyed. I have nothing but contempt for men who abuse children and will

do all I can to stop them from doing so."

“Then do it, man!” Dakin snarled.

“I will need help,” Occultus reminded him. “I can not do it alone."

Dakin stared at the thin man for a long, long time, trying to decide if what the priest was telling him was

true. He saw no guile in th—Occultus had opened his very soul to Dakin Cree, though the man had no

way of knowing that.

At last, the Chalean Ambassador sighed. “Tell me what my family and I can do."

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D'Lyn opened the door to the tall man and bowed respectfully. Though she had never met him, never

physically laid eyes upon him before that moment, she had been expecting him all her life. Though she did

not know his name, she knew who and what he was, and that he had been sent by the Ancient Ones to

help stop the flow of evil which dwelt on the summit of Mount Serenia.

“He is better?” Occultus asked as he and his men trooped into the kitchen of Holy Dale manor.

“Perhaps a little, Your Worship,” D'Lyn answered. “He wakes from time to time, but I do not believe he

knows where he is."

“That is to be expected,” Occultus stated. He looked about him, his dark eyes roaming over the men

assembled in the kitchen. His gaze finally settled on Traer Saur and a fain't smile touched his thin lips.

“How is your little sister faring, Squire Saur?"

Traer blinked. “How do you know of her?"

Occultus inclined his head. “There is little of what goes on within the Seven Kingdoms of which I am not

aware.” He kept his attention steady on Traer, then surprised the man by saying: “Your family will have

its revenge, Squire Saur. Have no doubt of that."

D'Lyn had been listening closely to the exchange and when Occultus turned to stare sharply at her, she

nodded her submission to his authority and made to leave.

“Where are you going?” Thècion McGregor called from the servant's stairs. From where he stood on

the final step, he could not see the new additions to the gathering.

“She is about Alel's business, young McGregor,” Occultus answered for the witch woman.

Thècion came off the last step and into the kitchens not surprised to see the priest there, for they'd all

been expecting him and his Tribunal guards. “Doing what?” the young prince asked, heading for the girl

who was bundling up against the frigid cold outside.

“Do not let that concern you at the moment,” Occultus replied. “Alel has need of you, as well."

“I'm not letting her go anywhere in this weather in the dark!” Thècion snapped and started to get his coat

when Occultus put out a staying hand and lightly gripped the young man's shoulder. Instantly, Thècion

stopped, his head swiveling from the departing woman to the tall man standing beside him.

“You will escort me to Kaelan's room,” Occultus ordered softly.

Thècion's head bobbed in slow agreement, he turned, and led the way back up the servant's stairs

without comment. “Aye, Your Worship, I will,” Thècion agreed.

“Lor!” Lumley Tarnes drawled. “I've never seen the likes!” The old sailor crossed himself, recognizing a

powerful magi when he happened upon one. “He made the boy do what he didn't want to!"

“I've a feeling,” Raine Jale remarked, “that all our lives have just been turned topsy turvy and we might

be gonna do a lot of things we've never thought of doing."

* * * *

Lars Utley was lost.

Rolf de Viennes uttered a vicious curse upon the Utley house and its progeny, then swung down from

the saddle, infuriated that he was cold, thirsty, and greatly in need of a chamberpot.

Before Utley could stop him, he had stomped off into a camouflaging clump of tall bushes to relieve

himself of the rich dinner he had consumed in Wixenstead.

“Don't wander too far away from us, Your Grace!” Utley called out.

“I can make myself no more lost than you have already made me!” de Viennes’ voice shouted back.

Utley swore beneath his breath, then climbed wearily down from his mount. He scowled as he took in

the tracks their horses had already made the two times they'd traversed this path before.

“I've never gotten lost in my entire forty-eight years,” Utley snapped, surveying the area around them.

“How in Alel's name did I do it this time?” He glanced at his men. “You might as well stretch your legs."