Dockalfar (31 page)

“Bashru! Wait!” She skidded around the corner and found him leaning against the wall, glaring at her from under his great slab-like brows. “Why were you following me?”

“No sane reason,” came the muttered reply.

“Then what insane one?”

He did not answer at first, his small black eyes glittering in the shadow of his eye sockets. Then finally, he shrugged.

“Wanted to see where you was runnin’ to.”

Her eyes widened in dismay. “You were there?”

“I was around.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

He snorted, loud and rudely. “No hair offa my hide what sidhe and their like do to each other.”

“I’m not sidhe,” she cried. “And it was horrible. And why did you follow me if you didn’t care?”

“Like to know things is all,” he admitted with terrible nonchalance. He pushed himself off the wall and made to turn away from her. She caught his arm. Steeled herself at the dirty feel of his hair-coated skin. His muscle was like stone.

He looked from her hand to her face with something akin to awe that she would touch the likes of him.

“Why did you bring me here?” she whispered. “This place is making me mad. They want me to become like them.”

Carefully, he shrugged her hand from his arm. “Nobody crosses Azeral.”

He walked away from her, leaving her in the middle of the dank stone passage. A trail of moisture made its way down the outside of her cheek.

“Why did he let them do it?” she whispered at his back.

The little man hesitated, turned his head slightly as if to better hear her words. “Like I said, nobody crosses Azeral.”

“Would you have let them?”

“Humph! I’d of run for the haunted hills afore I let the lot of them at me.”

“So why did Dusk?”

“Azeral don’t own my soul, wench. There’s a difference.”

“You’re the second person to tell me that. How can it be?”

The spriggan made a sound of frustrated disgust. “Why this. Why that. Don’t you ever tire of askin’ questions?”

“I want to know.”

“Dark sidhe ain’t never been nothing more than skulking forest thieves, with no more worth than a passel o’ fairies. Only thing they ever have of any value is a Ciagenii every generation or so. Don’t ask me why only Dark Sidhe produce Ciagenii, ‘cause I don’t know. But one outta a thousand babies be born with the knowin’ of how to kill. Not just takin’ a life, but takin’ any life and when the urge hits ‘em, the takin’ of the soul. No magic can touch them, there’s no protection from them. Would you trust something like that in your employ without damn strong assurances it wouldn’t turn on you?

Especially when it comes from such a upstanding lot like the dark sidhe? There was a time when the high lords went to all sorts of trouble to hunt down Ciagenii and wipe the blight out of Elkhavah. The more powerful the lord, the more frightened he was of the ‘death that was unstoppable’, then some enterprising high sidhe came up with the idea of using the Ciagenii to their own ends. And the only way to do that safely was the unbreakable bond of holding their souls. But you can’t take a soul from a living breathing body. Once it’s attached, it’s there for good. So they take it from the womb. Ohh, the dark sidhe wench who finds out she’s carrying a Ciagenii is a happy wench indeed. She’s got something the most powerful of the high lords will pay dearly for.”

Victoria stared at the spriggan in horror. “You mean they sell their babies before they’re even born?”

“As soon as it can be determined it’s a Ciagenii. The only way to separate a body’s soul is before the soul is good and secure. You have to do it in the wench’s belly.”

“My God. That’s what happened to Dusk?”

Bashru shrugged. “I was there. Was me that the greedy little wench contacted with the proposition for Azeral. I took her to him and soon as he was satisfied that what she carried was Ciagenii the two of them set to bargaining. She got a good price. Then Azeral took the soul. Didn’t hurt the wench, but it hurt the baby. You could practically see it trying to claw its way outta her belly. Then it stopped and everything was okay again. Few months later she had the brat and went on her merry way. And Azeral had a Ciagenii that was assured to be loyal no matter what. Now what else you want to know?”

She leaned against the wall, knees feeling weak and head spinning. The audacity of this place and its minions sapped her strength.

“I hate it here. I want to go home so bad.”

He looked at her without a speck of understanding. She wondered if he had ever known a place better than this.

“Little chance of that,” Bashru muttered. “Azeral don’t let go of things easy. Want my advice? Don’t fight them. You do and they’ll crush you.”

How true, she thought. This place had already started to make her loose herself. How much more before it crushed her will and her spirit?

“What do I do then?” she asked.

He shrugged, and she saw the hint of a toothy grin. “Do what I do, humor ‘em. Let ‘em think they’re smarter than you. And if you get on the bad side of one, never turn your back on him.”

“Or her,” Victoria murmured.

~~~

She wore the dresses Azeral provided for her. Found each and every one cut to perfection and of colors flattering to her hair and eyes and even her skin tone. One and all they were of richer material and trimming than those she had worn at Ashara’s keep. The bodices were lower cut, the skirts filmier, the designs more elegant. She felt like she had accidentally walked into the wardrobe of a fairy tale princess. It was bribery, of course. As if clothes and jewels could win her over. As if scrumptious food and flattery would make her forget her grievances. They were polite to her, of course. She was certain it was on Azeral’s orders. They called her Lady, and made pretty comments to her when she passed. Not one of them attempted her inner shields, although sometimes, late at night she could feel the delicate prying fingers of a master and knew Azeral secretly worked at undermining her privacy. She did not mention she was aware of his trespass to him. She took her meals in her room, or in one of the gardens and occasionally, when she was feeling brave in the great hall with the majority of the court. She never attended the evening feast, although she sometimes heard the servants talking fearfully of who would serve this night or that.

She was terrified of running into Alex. Although as the days passed she found that he and Leanan were conspicuously scarce. Azeral’s doing?

The Dark Lord personally asked for her company during a grand dance the court was holding in the great hall. Her day, being a particularly boring one and bereft of most company, could well use some change of pace. She was feeling daring, and Azeral promised not to hold her for long. So she agreed.

He appeared at her door himself, immaculate in royal blue and silver. She felt drab next to him in forest hued greens, and duller still when she entered that gaily-colored crowd of fey creatures.

They glimmered with vitality and a magical aura that she no longer had. They were dream folk. With clouds of flowing silky hair and faces and forms to surpass the most comely of angels. She felt undeserving of their company. A little human girl thrust in the midst of gods. She felt their eyes on her, their contempt. So she did the only thing she could do in her defense. She held her head high and pretended not to notice. She walked among them on the arm of their lord and master and made believe that this was nothing more than an elegant cocktail party peopled by ordinary humans.

There was a troupe of lesser sidhe musicians, sad eyed and long faced, but fingers and lips working light hearted magic on their instruments. The tunes were heart catching. Victoria found herself loosening despite her reservations. Music always had the ability to sway her moods.

The sidhe whirled about her in a sensuous, wild dance. Azeral pulled her into the rhythm. She let him. She was ashamed to admit that the dance did not repel her. Her partner, for the moment, did not have her suspicions soaring. She was content to let the music transport her to an euphoria so far inexperienced here.

Azeral leaned close to her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there. “I’m told you are a singer beyond compare, Victoria.”

She blinked up at him, taken off guard. “Alex told you that?”

“Is it true?”

She shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. It delved into a private part of her she did not wish to give away.

“It’s what I did before you saw fit to bring me here.”

“I would be pleased to hear you sing.”

She lowered her gaze to his chest.

She would not sing for him. She would not be an entertainment for his lot. He took her silence for what it was. She felt his shrug.

“Perhaps later.”

“Perhaps.”

She looked about the hall. There were so many sidhe in attendance.

Practically the whole of the court. She did not see Alex or Leanan, which was a relief. Although on more than one occasion she did see a certain amount of malevolence in the same set of blue eyes.

She half remembered the lady from past glimpses. She had seen her on Azeral’s arm more than once. She could not remember her name. But from the jealousy burning in those eyes, she thought she might find out sooner than she liked.

When the present dance ended and the band prepared for another piece, Victoria begged for a rest. Azeral let her go with an indifferent shrug. She made for the tables of refreshment. She procured a glass of sweet cider and loitered on the sidelines as the tireless sidhe swept the floor in yet another waltz. A few sidhe, not engaged in the dance migrated towards her. The woman was among them.

Victoria steeled herself for confrontation.

There were two males with the woman. Both young seeming, but what sidhe wasn’t? One blonde, one silver haired. The woman had a stunning fall of sunlight golden hair beaded with chips of sapphire.

“Forgive Azeral.” The woman smiled upon her. She was quite beautiful. “Sometimes he forgets that not all races have the endurance of the sidhe.”

Not certain if the apology was benevolent or condescending, Victoria only nodded, eyeing the three warily over the top of her glass as she took a sip. The silver haired male smiled slightly, taking her free hand without her leave and bringing it to his lips.

“Ah, but for a human she moves beautifully.”

“Yes, I suppose she does have some natural rhythm,” the woman agreed, as though it pained her. The male continued to hold Victoria’s hand. Carefully she extracted the member.

“I do better with fairies,” she said politely. “Your dance is so restrained in comparison.”

The woman lifted a brow in surprise.

The male’s grin widened.

“Ah, she dances with fairies. A rare human indeed. And so lovely. All my prejudices against humans have been banished after seeing one so fetching.”

Victoria lifted a brow of her own.

“Are you talking to me or about me?”

The male’s eyes sparkled. “At the moment, to you, but after tonight, I think I’ll be talking about you rather frequently.”

She shook her head in embarrassed amusement. “Oh my. I feel ravished and don’t even remember it.”

“I’m at your convenience,” he assured her.

She laughed. Her first genuine laugh since coming here. This sidhe reminded her of Alkar. “I don’t even know your name, sir.”

He lifted both brows, then suddenly bowed at the waist, sweeping out one arm in an elaborate gesture. “Deigah, my lady. I am Deigah.”

“I’m Victoria.”

“We all know your name,” the female said with a tight smile.

“Neferia is only miffed because Azeral has found no time to dance with her tonight,” Deigah supplied, getting a icy glare from Neferia for his trouble.

Victoria glanced quickly to the woman.

“Well you’ve the rest of the night, I don’t think I could dance another step.”

Neferia sniffed. Deigah waved a hand in dismissal.

“Nonsense. You’ve only just started. The Olveiear waltz is starting, I insist you dance it with me.” He gave her no time to protest. Merely took her glass from her hand, sat it down and pulled her out into the swaying crowd. They flew around the great expanse of floor in what could only be termed as wild abandon. The ‘waltz’ was hardly a sedate exercise in ballroom dancing. Deigah made her laugh. His elegance was not tinged with regulate as with Azeral. His intensity was not sobering, it was daring and exciting and she found herself enjoying the dance.

They circled the floor so many times she was dizzy by the time he led her to the side for a well deserved breather. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and for the moment, her troubles forgotten.

“That was wonderful,” she admitted.

“Of course,” he said, as if she were stating the obvious.

“I did not come tonight expecting to enjoy myself.”

He filled a goblet for her. “Do you find it so horrible here?”

She did not wish to think about her grievances now. It would only deflate the unexpected good mood she found herself in.

“Have you always been here?” she asked instead. “At Azeral’s keep?”

Deigah laughed. “For many of your human centuries. I was born in Tezlem’s court, though. A court none so grand as this one I assure you.”

“Centuries? How old are you?”

“In your terms? A millennium perhaps. Otto the Great was a power in your world when I was a youngling.”

“The Ottoman Empire?” It took a moment to digest that thought. She ventured to ask. “And Azeral? How old is he?”

Deigah smiled slyly. “Your race was rather young when he breathed his first. Ten millennia. Twenty? Azeral is very old.”

She took a breath, released it very slowly. Old? Old did not begin to describe it. She knew Ashara was old and Neira’sha was ancient, but twenty thousand years? There had to be some mistake. Some confusion of just how human years were measured. Were sidhe immortal? Did they last for eternity? Or did they measure age on the same terms that the mountains did? Thousands of years passing even for a gradual change.

How could one keep the boredom of eternal living at bay?

She stood against a marble column, staring at a sea of folk older than her country. Older than most human relics. It was inconceivable that none of them seemed bowed by the passage of all that time. Their gaiety spoke of youth and energy. It told nothing of a thousand years of experience, of wisdom and knowledge.