Dara Joy - Matrix 04 (13 page)

Daxan, however, had something to say about it. "No, I
will not."

Neither brother or sister heard him.

Traed watched them all with a dangerous gleam in his eye. He could be at home at this moment, doing something useful. Like trimming the claws of his
phfiztger.
Surely that had more merit than this? How had he come to be here?

Ah, Yes.
Yaniff.

"He cannot come!" Brygar threw his hands up in the air. "He is an outlaw!"

"That is not the reason." Daxan tried to interrupt but got nowhere.

"Pfft!" Soosha waved her hand in front of Brygar's nose. "Then Gian Ren will have to make him
not
be an outlaw!"

"Gian!" Brygar bellowed. "You will be lucky if the King does not expel you after what you have done!"

At this point Daxan motioned for Traed to take a seat. The battle showed no signs of abating.

The two of them sat down across from each other.

Traed calmly watched brother and sister snarl, roar, hiss, bellow, and screech at each other. "And to think I believed the House of Sages mad when they sent me with him," he murmured thoughtfully. "Now I am not so sure. He is a menace all by himself."

Daxan smiled. "I have heard of your 'relationship' with the High Guild. It must annoy you greatly to think they might be right- even one time."

Traed's head whipped back to Daxan. Like all Familiars, this one never let the opportunity to irk go by. Traed's jade eyes glittered.

Daxan chuckled.

"So, Daxan Sahain, you cultivate for
taj
Gian and who
else?"

The smile died on the Familiar's face. "You are very cunning for an Aviaran."

"Thus Yaniff sends me on these
important
journeys."

The man definitely had a subtle wit. Daxan lifted his hands palms up as if to indicate
'what can I say?'

"As I see it, the King sent you to Spoltam to infiltrate these people and ascertain what, if any, threat level there is to M'yan."

"You begin to impress me, Charl."

"Therefore you left M'yan as a rogue Familiar to avoid suspicion."

Daxan winked.

"From what I have gathered you have been on Spoltam some time."

Daxan's reply was somewhat hesitant. "Yes."

Traed nodded. "Interesting."

Behind them an urn flew through the air, missing Brygar and sailing to within a hair's width of Traed's right ear.

Without missing a beat, he smoothly released his light blade and pulverized the pottery an instant before it would have shattered against the side of his head.

His weapon was retracted and back in his waistband before the first shards even hit the carpeted floor.

He calmly continued his conversation as if nothing untoward had occurred. "The armband you are wearing is quite complex. I have never seen one like it before. There are few who have the power to nurture such an intricate weave. Tell me who gave it to you."

Daxan sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. "You know, you have the reflexes of a Familiar; it is quite extraordinary."

Traed was never a man to be sidetracked. Especially by an observation. He swung the lightblade around to Daxan's throat in a heartbeat. "With most weapons accuracy is more important."

Daxan did not even blink. "You would not want to do that, my friend," he said quietly.

"And why is that?"

"For one, I would kill you before your blade sliced into my skin."

Traed arched a brow. "So you all say. What is the other reason?"

"If you should manage to best me, you would then have to deal with
Soosha."
Daxan grinned broadly at the Aviaran.

His wise words gave Traed pause.

The female Familiar did not seem to listen to reason when it came to doing other than what
she
wanted. She was much like the brother. It would be foolish to provoke her. He glanced over his shoulder.

At that moment Soosha was holding her clawed hand in front of her brother's face, threatening to scratch him sense
less. Traed arched his left eye
brow.

Daxan knew that the Aviaran could deal very well with Soosha- if he had to. But would he
want
to? That was another matter, entirely.

Despite the terrible threat of "Soosha unbound", the green-eyed man kept the blade securely at his throat. Daxan was impressed. "Of course there is my new brother Brygar and his two sets of kani to consider..."

Traed's eyelash flickered. Once.

Daxan snorted. He
is
finding this humorous. "At least he is not part of your family. Imagine my shock when I came down the stairs."

"I am not sure he is not part of my family- and that is what worries me," Traed quipped back.

Daxan threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Traed retracted his blade. But he remembered what Brygar had said:
"He went rogue just before the Feast of Wizards..."

The connection did not seem coincidence and Traed needed to know the truth. It was his nature to always come back to that piece of the puzzle that would not fit. "Was Yaniff the one who gave the cuff to you?"

Daxan stared at him for long moments before speaking. "It is so important for you to know?"

"Yes."

"You believe it was Yaniff?"

"Yes."

"Does he concern you?"

Traed thought before he answered. "Concern is not the right word."

"Hmmm." Daxan crossed his ankle over his knee. "Gian has oft told me that most times it is better not to know the workings of mystics; for with such knowledge can come heartbreak and sorrow."

"I would rather sit with those companions than dine on deception."

"My senses tell me that you do sit with those companions, knight. Frequently."

Traed revealed nothing.

Daxan sighed. Charl were a breed apart. Even when they claimed not to be Charl. He would not get under this knight's skin; the man would never reveal anything he did not want revealed. "Very well, I will tell you this, but be forewarned. It may indeed sorrow your heart."

Traed steeled himself. "Go on."

Daxan fingered the intricate weavings in the cuff. "Look not to Yaniff in this."

Traed fully expected to hear the seventh-level mystic named as the conjurer. And now his heart was full of sorrow- just as the Familiar had predicted.

His suspicion had done Yaniff a disservice.

The old master meant more to him than he could ever say. When he was a child and ignored by the Guild and most of the Aviaran familial lines, Yaniff had taken him on as student. Later, he defied The House of Sages, claiming him as a son.

Charl ways ran deep. To this day he had never been able to truly refuse any request the old mystic made of him. The crafty wizard always managed to ensnare him in his schemes.

Yet. .. if it was not Yaniff, than who was it?

There were only a handful in the High Guild with that kind of power. The creation of such a device would have taken months and would have severely depleted the conjurer during its creation. Not to mention the continual drain of its maintenance.

Mayhap Yaniff did not create the cuff,
a voice whispered to him.
Mayhap Yaniff instructed someone to make it. . .

Questions. Always more questions!

Traed was not sure why the answers were so important; he just knew that they were.

Daxan carefully watched the play of thoughts cross Traed's features. Only a Familiar would have been able to discern the slightest change of mood; this Aviaran was a master at keeping his emotions hidden.

There was more here than Daxan cared to explore-but, then, he was not Charl. He had enough on his own to deal with. He attempted to lighten the topic. "Of course, to make the chronicle clear, Traed ta'al Krue, Familiar do not actually have two sets of-"

Traed put his hand up. "That is more knowledge than I require."

The room behind them suddenly became still.

Traed turned around in his seat
- just to see if the two had finally killed each other off and he could go home.

He viewed the scene before him in amazement. Brother and sister were hugging each other
and
smiling.

Apparently after the snarling and hissing were done, all was then forgotten. The two of them were beaming like a happy pair of tuned crystals.

Traed sighed stoically.

Brygar, grinning a cheery, white-toothed smile, announced to the room at large: "My sister and I are in agreement! The rogue who has no pride will come home with us!"

Daxan immediately stood. "No. I am not going back to M'yan."

Soosha ran over to him, the smile dying on her face. "But Daxan, you must. . ." She trailed off, not quite sure what to say to convince this man who knew her in body but had yet to learn her fully in mind.

"Soosha."
Daxan cupped her cheek with his palm. "I am here at Gian Ren's behest. I cannot leave."

"You
-
you mean you are not an outlaw after all?"

He shook his head, then dipped down to let his lips lightly caress hers. "No," he breathed. "I am trying to help our people. The Tunnel between Spoltam and Ganakari
breeds danger for us. Should Spoltam join forces with their
Tunnel-match,
Ganakari, our people will be in even more danger and so will the Alliance. I must remain on Spoltam, Soosha."

Soosha bit her lip and cast her eyes down. "For how long, husband?"

His hands clasped hers, bringing them to his lips. Already he was in love with her. Already he felt the pain of their parting.

He would die a little each day without her beside him.

But his people needed him and they all would have to sacrifice to survive. "Until such time that Spoltam either enters the Alliance or turns against us. There is no other way. I am the eyes and ears of the royal house."

"Then I will stay with you, Daxan Sa'ain."

Her offer came as a shock to him. He knew she was not overly fond of this world- and with good reason. She had almost been hunted down and enslaved moments after her arrival.

Right then, he saw the qualities in her that he had always yearned for in a mate. In truth, he had been wild for her from the moment he had first spotted her leaping from stall to stall in the marketplace, causing pandemonium wherever she went.

Laughing all the while.

Her laugh would carry him to any sacrifice. Because the sound of that laughter, so pure, so free, so joyous, represented everything a Familiar should fight to preserve.

He had been forced to contain his heart. His wife did not know him yet as he truly was- she did not know that he would lick the tip of her ear just to see her smile.

Or that he cried in secret when his thoughts strayed to his lost family.

But there would come a time when they would all be free again and his children would play under the light of many different suns.

{Are you sure about this, Soosha?}
He. sent his thought privately to her.

[Yes. I will stay with you, Daxan.}

{It will be dangerous.}

{I am a Familiar; I thrive on danger.}

He looked at her with pride.
{You will have to stay hidden. My armband will not work on you.}

{No trips to the sacri?}

His cheeks curved.
{No. Especially not the sacri.}

{Not even once?}
She asked, beguiling him in the way of her kind.

{Not even once. Think you I would lose you to the slavers?}
His tongue slipped teasingly between her fingers.

{You can always say I am your Familiar love slave.}

He paused to stare up at her over their joined hands.
{They would be more apt to believe the reverse is true.}

Soosha sucked in her breath at his revealing expression. The honed, intelligent features enthralled her. This man who was her mate was an enigma. Cunning, yet methodical. Sensual, yet controlled. In the darkest hours of night, he was as untamed as any Familiar. . . yet he was an incredibly sensitive lover.

There were things that Daxan did to her, things that she had never. . .

Her heart pounded as she looked into his eyes. She knew in that moment that they would find so much passion, so much love together. They were complete opposites but they
were exactly matched.

He was her adventure!

Without hesitation she turned to her brother. "I have decided to remain here on Spoltam with my husband."

Brygar stared at his sister, dumbfounded.

Traed silently counted the moments for the statement to hit the big Familiar's brain.
One. Two. Thr-

"You cannot remain here! It is too dangerous. I will not allow it!"

Since Brygar's stubbornness seemed in no danger of taking a journey on the path to enlightenment, Traed picked up a thick tome lying on the table by his chair. It mattered not that he did not read Spoltami.

At the rate Brygar processed acceptance, Traed acknowledged he should become a scholar in the language.

He propped his legs on the opposite chair and crossed his booted feet.

Daxan was not as patient as the Aviaran. He stepped forward to face the dark-haired Familiar, nose-to-nose.

"It may interest you to know that I agree with you; Spoltam is dangerous for her. I believe she should return to M'yan. Nevertheless, Soosha has made her decision and I must respect it. Your sister will remain on Spoltam with me. Best you accept it now to avoid problems later. And know this as well, Brygar.. . I will never take orders from
you."

Not the most soothing declaration to state to
this
particular Familiar, Traed concluded. He opened the first page of the book.

As expected, Brygar's brow lowered ominously.
"Really.
And whose house will you enter when you return to M'yan? Hmmm? You have none of your own, as I recall. It is
my
clan that will bring you in, if we-that means
I-
so choose."

A muscle in Daxan's jaw ticked. It was true; he had no close family remaining. They had been among the first of the Familiars to disappear. Perhaps, like him, they had always chosen the most dangerous, most remote places to explore?

He had vowed to revenge their loss, which was one reason he was Gian's eyes and ears in the most dangerous of missions.

Still, a Familiar with no clan was little more than a renegade. Such Familiars were called Loners and they were considered dangerous, for they often had allegiance only to themselves.

Brygar's words hurt Daxan more than the brash Familiar knew or probably ever intended.

"Then I will start my own house. There is still some of the clan left. . ."

Brygar found out what he had been seeking. Daxan had some spit. And that pleased him. "You will do no such thing. You will come to my house where you
will
belong and you will like it!"

Daxan's stance relaxed. "Very well then."

Brawl averted.
Traed reclined in his chair, booted feet extended, arms crossed over his chest. He closed his eyes. The journey with Brygar had been a ceaseless sprint in every which direction. Traed refused to remember what they had gone through to get free of the mud bog on Mollock; the Familiar's lack of directional sense seemed to be compensated with a never-ending supply of vigor.