Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (22 page)

Talsy glared
after him, longing to shout something appropriate, but nothing
sprang to mind. Why did he have to be so pessimistic? He did not
know for certain that this child would threaten her life, and she
was sure it would not. Who could she talk to, if not him? It was
his child, and he should share her joy. She marched to the camp and
flopped down by the fire, accepted a bowl of food from Shan and
ignored Kieran's curious look. The Aggapae sensed her mood and
retired to their tents, leaving her to finish her food with only
Kieran for company.

Annoyed, she
demanded, "Shouldn't you be sleeping too?"

"Someone has
to stand watch until Chanter returns."

"He's
around."

"You had a
fight with him?"

"That's none
of your business." The thought of Kieran's fury at her pregnancy
prompted her to continue, "But actually, we did."

He looked
surprised at her confiding such a thing in him, and raised his
brows. "What about?"

Talsy smiled.
Kieran had predicted that she would not succeed in getting a child
from the Mujar, and she had proven him wrong. The Prince would not
be pleased with her news, and annoying him always seemed to give
her some perverse satisfaction. Perhaps it was his solid Trueman
attraction, so unlike the Mujar's beauty, or the way he understood
her when Chanter did not. Maybe it was because he wanted her, and
she longed for Chanter to feel like that.

"I'm going to
have his child," she announced.

Kieran stared
at her as if she had just informed him that she was flying to the
moon tomorrow. "You're what?"

"You heard
me."

"You're having
Chanter's child? Are you mad?"

"No." She
grinned. "Actually I'm very happy about it."

"And he's
obviously not."

Her grin
faded. "He'll come around."

"I doubt
that." Kieran muttered, scowling. "So, your little charm worked,
did it? Or did you talk him into it?"

"The charm
worked."

"You tricked
him."

"In a manner
of speaking."

Kieran leant
forward, his black eyes burning under low dark brows. "You stupid
little fool! Why is he so upset? Because you tricked him or because
you're pregnant?"

"Because I'm
pregnant, and I'm not stupid or a fool. This child will be the most
wonderful ever born into this world."

"He doesn't
think so, does he?"

She shrugged,
a little unsure. "He says it will kill me, but he's wrong."

The Prince
looked sick and lowered his eyes to the flames. "Mujar are seldom
wrong. Did he tell you this before or after you lay with him?"

"After. He
didn't know about the charm."

"Nor did he
know to what depths a woman will stoop to get what she wants. I
warned him about the charm, but he didn't think it would work."

She bridled.
"It's not just what I want, it's what this world needs."

"Oh, sure,
that's all this world needs, another crossbreed. Another
abomination. Another poor twisted creature to die when the staff is
restored."

Pain stabbed
her heart. "He won't. He'll be undying!"

"I wouldn't be
too sure of that. When you mix opposites, you never know what will
happen. Sometimes they cancel each other out and become nothing,
other times they blow up in your face."

"You're just
jealous!"

"Jealous? How
can a man be jealous of a Mujar? He has no feelings for you. He
never wanted you as a woman and he never will. You're his precious
First Chosen, worthy of saving because you had all the qualities
his gods were looking for. But you just had to have him, didn't
you? The very fact that he wasn't interested made you determined to
get him somehow, and you did. Well done. I feel sorry for him,
falling into the clutches of a scheming woman like you. But luckily
for him, he's Mujar, and he can fly away whenever he likes, because
he has no emotional ties, not with you or your child!"

"How dare
you?" Talsy said, incensed. "You don't know a thing about it!"

"But I do.
Unlike Chanter, I understand you perfectly. You've stolen from him
what he wouldn't give, pretending he's something he isn't and feels
something he doesn't. He's Mujar. Having his child won't make him
love you, he's not capable of it!"

"That's not
why I did it!" She bit her lip, a worm of doubt nibbling at her
mind.

"Then why did
you?"

"Because he
won't always stay with me. He's too wild, he has to be free to be
happy and I won't deny him that. I want a part of him to love, a
child who won't leave me. His child." Her eyes stung, and she
blinked the tears away.

"And you're
assuming that a half Mujar child will be capable of loving you. He
could be as flighty as his father, then where will you be? That's
if the staff doesn't kill him, or he doesn't kill you!"

"Leave me
alone!" Talsy covered her face and wept.

Kieran stood
up, filled with remorse and an overwhelming urge to comfort her. He
wanted to apologise and tell her that he was just concerned for her
and angry at her foolishness. Instead, he swung away and marched
into the darkness, terrible visions of what this child might do to
her plaguing him. Why did he have to fall in love with a girl who
was in love with a Mujar, and whose determination to have him would
drive her to any lengths? He stopped and thumped a tree, then
rested his forehead against its rough bark, wishing that he could
banish the stupid girl from his heart.

All these
months, he had hoped that she would realise that her love for
Chanter was doomed and turn to him. He had thought that she was
attracted to him, but perhaps he had been fooling himself. Even if
she was, she would never allow it to grow into anything stronger.
Instead, she clung to her love for an alien creature who would
bring her only unhappiness; a foolish dream that someday the Mujar
would return her feelings.

A whisper of
wings made him turn as a grey owl landed on the pine needles that
covered the forest floor. In a rush of wind, it became Chanter. The
Mujar glanced around at the camp, then studied the Prince.

"You're
angry."

Kieran leant
against the tree and shook his head. "Yes, but not with you. I
can't believe she's been so stupid."

"Yes."

"She tricked
you."

Chanter
nodded. "She used the one thing against which I had no defence. I
cannot even offer her Regret."

"She doesn't
want your regret, she has what she wants. She thinks she's won, and
you'll want to stay with her now that she's having your child. She
believes you'll feel responsible for her and take care of her and
the baby."

"But I don't."
Chanter cocked his head. "We don't raise our young, nor do we have
mates like you do. She has merely burdened herself with something
that will probably kill her, and certainly put an end to this quest
that she wanted so much. I don't understand it."

"I do." The
Prince slid down the tree and sat with his back against it. "She
wants to restore the staff, thereby assuring a future for your son,
but she also wants to make sure that once it's restored, you don't
leave."

Chanter
squatted down in front of Kieran. "The only way she can stop me
from being free is if she Wishes it."

"That's what
she doesn't understand. She wants you to love her the way she loves
you, and she believes a child will do that. It's a tender trap that
usually it works on Truemen, but of course it won't work on a
Mujar."

"You can
understand that, but she can't. Truemen care about their offspring,
Mujar don't."

Kieran nodded.
"She's using Trueman guiles on a Mujar, and refuses to believe they
won't work. I can only feel sorry for her. She's very confused.
Unfortunately she won't listen to either of us, and when we tell
her it only upsets her."

"She's already
forbidden me to speak about it."

"Well, she
can't forbid me, but I know it's useless to try. She's living in a
dream. She has it all mapped out, what's going to happen, and how.
For the moment she's happy, and the only thing that's going to
persuade her that she's wrong is when it doesn't go the way she's
planned it." Kieran fiddled with the pine needles, his brow
furrowed, and Chanter stared into space.

"I regret your
pain," the Mujar murmured, breaking the silence.

Kieran smiled
bitterly. "So do I. I should have known better than to let myself
fall in love with her. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do
about it now, so I guess I'll just stick around and pick up the
pieces. I won't let it kill her. If I have to, I'll cut the thing
out. You've given me the tool to do it, and heal her afterwards, so
I'm grateful for that."

"Good."
Chanter nodded. "At least you can. My task is to protect her, but I
can't save her from what grows in her belly. That would mean
killing the child, which I cannot do. Therefore, since you can,
I'll endeavour to protect you as well, Prince Kieran."

Kieran stared
at the unman, shocked by the diabolical bargain they had struck.
The father of Talsy's child had promised to protect the future
murderer of his unborn son. Kieran shook himself. No, Chanter had
promised to protect him in return for saving Talsy's life. That was
how the Mujar saw it, and so must he, for the sake of his sanity.
He cursed the sweet, abrasive, foolish girl who had placed them in
this predicament, struck by the irony of it.

"How will it
kill her?"

"I don't
know." Chanter glanced at him. "It may be so alien that it will
poison her, or perhaps it just won't be born soon enough."

"Stupid,
stupid girl," Kieran muttered. "Let her keep her dream for now and
be happy while she can. It'll end soon enough." He sighed. "We
won't be able to finish the quest, though. In six moons she won't
be able to travel."

"No. We won't
find the remaining three pieces in six moons, and it might be
less."

"I wonder if
she thought about that when she decided to do this." Kieran pushed
himself away from the tree and stood up, gripping his sword
hilt.

Chanter rose
to his feet and glanced up at the tall warrior. "Sleep if you wish.
I'll watch over the camp."

The Prince
nodded and wandered back to the tents, still plagued by unpleasant
thoughts. If the child poisoned Talsy, how long should he wait
before he removed it? How easy was it to cut a child from its
mother without killing her, too? At least he would have Chanter to
help heal her, but the thought of slicing into Talsy's flesh made
him shudder. He had never shrunk from killing when necessary, and
in the heat of the moment he did it with consummate ease, as his
father had taught him. The prospect of killing an innocent, unborn
child sickened him, even to save the life of the girl he loved. He
would do it, but he was certain that the deed would haunt him for
the rest of his life.

Chapter Nine

Vosh built Law
a box to hide in. The boy scuttled into it and stayed there, secure
in its dark confines. Letta placed food just outside, which
vanished within almost as quickly as she could provide it. Though
puzzled, he and Letta decided that Law could not be ill if his
appetite remained so good, and resolved to let him emerge when he
was ready. No amount of wheedling or cajoling could winkle him from
the box anyway, and at least he was comfortable within it. Weeks
passed peacefully, the nights undisturbed by Law's prowling, which
allowed Vosh to catch up on a lot of sleep.

Law was
content in the box. It kept others safe from the strange power that
had burst from him and harmed the man, Vosh. Yet he could leave it
whenever he pleased, so it was not a prison. Still, he longed to
continue his exploration of the world. The golden light swirled in
his mind, occasionally making strange thoughts stir. The creatures
that dwelt in this maze of tunnels bothered him. Each time he met
one and examined it with his senses and hands, he knew that
something was wrong. The golden light would flare, and a line of
writing would flash across his inner eye, to fast to read, but
disturbing. This did not happen when he touched Letta or Vosh, nor
had it happened in the forest with the bog boar.

When Law
pondered this, he found answers to many questions buried deep in
his mind. Knowledge about his powers seeped into his ken like long
lost memories. In the box's safety and darkness, he learnt that the
powers were a part of him, just like his fingers and toes, and as
easily controlled. He was made from the same elements, and a part
of the world. It had spawned him, yet he was able to think and
control all of its elements, and there had to be a reason for
it.

Digging
deeper, he found the answer. He was Life. His soul was a fragment
of the world's mighty spirit, one with it, yet separate, a conduit,
a messenger through which the world learnt about itself. Yet his
purpose was not to change or judge, but simply to see... and he was
blind. The realisation almost made Law open his eyes. His eyelids
parted a slit, then clenched shut as the golden light made a bid
for freedom. Trapping it, he struggled with his problem. His heart
pounded and sweat broke out on his forehead. His purpose was in
conflict with his inability to release the light. Wrestling with
this dilemma, Law stopped eating.

After the food
had mouldered untouched outside the box for a week, Letta was
frantic. She and Vosh longed to drag the child out of his hiding
place, but at first they were too scared to use force. They begged,
threatened and bribed, to no avail. Convinced that the boy was sick
and dying, Letta persuaded Vosh to brave the flames and bring the
boy into the light once more. Bracing himself, Vosh groped within
the box, found an arm and pulled Law out of his month-long retreat.
He hardly recognised the creature that emerged.