Eyes of the Alchemist (8 page)

Laughter trickled from her mouth as she drifted over the rock pool. She gently rotated, and saw herself reflected in the water. Her hair was filled with moonlight and floated around her in luminous strands.

“It’s good to hear my lady laugh,” Kavan said against her ear.

  Her breath left her body as she turned again, but she could not see him. Totally relaxed, her eyelids wouldn’t open. “My eyes are heavy with sleep, I must be dreaming.”

“You are denying them the sight of what your heart wants to see. You can lighten them if you would but try Tiana mine.”

She did as her lord asked and found herself floating high over the land. Her body tensed. She gasped and was about to fall when Kavan’s hand curved warmly around hers.

When he smiled at her, his eyes were bright with laughter. “Why do you feel fear when you know you’ve secured yourself to the sapling? This is only a dream. Look below you Tiana. What do you see?”

“A land so rich in beauty it hurts my eyes to gaze upon it.” She was self-conscious under his scrutiny. Her earth-colored gown was shabby, and her smile reflected her shame in her appearance. Kavan was splendid in a black tunic with a silver crescent emblazoned on his chest. Her heart quickened. “There’s a harmony of water and land on Cabrilan. It gladdens the eye and gives solace to the heart.”

“It’s a gift I offer you, Tiana.”

 The gift was symbolic, such riches not his to give. “I’ll treasure only the thought behind the gift. The land belongs to all those who see and rejoice in its beauty. It belonged to others before we inhabited it, and will delight the eye of others long after we are gone.”

“Wise words, lady.” He gently caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. “All Cabrilan cherish life.”

 How could one so beloved by his people utter such untruths? “Your lies are designed to seduce me,” she murmured, turning her face away. “Do not treat me like a fool. Your troopers are highly trained; they do not hesitate to kill or main. Even defenceless old women are not immune to their blood lust. This I have witnessed with my own eyes.”

He took her by the chin and turned her face back towards him. His eyes were intent on hers; his smile melted her bones. “You choose to close your mind to the ferocity of the Pitilan you brought with you. Its purpose was to kill the Cabrilan people, and that urge is uppermost in its genetic makeup. Did you not order it to kill?”

“I . . . I did not give the order with malice, it was a gut reaction to your attack, a matter of survival.”

“From that action sprang knowledge and new insight. You gave the order to kill, and you learned a new healing skill that day, did you not?”

“Someone paid for that skill with their pain, another with his life. The
High Mother
was not your enemy, and the Pitilan is my personal protector. The trooper would not have died had he not attacked. The guilt of the attack is yours to bear.”

 His smile took on a mocking edge. “To lay the guilt on another’s shoulders is easier than admitting one has the ability to kill when necessary. I didn’t create the Pitilan and none of my troopers attacked you personally. Can it be that you wished to test the beast’s power?”

Denial sprang to her lips. “Atarta defended those unable to defend themselves. It was an unfair contest to start with. If you can’t admit to that and discipline your men, then for all your fine posturing you are no leader.”

His face darkened. “The killing stopped from that day forth, as I promised. We had no wish to fight the Truarc. Drastic measures were called for because they would not listen to reason.”

“Why should your reason be superior to that of my sire, who is wise above all others?”

His voice took on an edge. “Your sire is full of false pride. He placed his dignity and position above the safety of his subjects.”

Who was he to talk of false pride? She stared at him with disbelief for a moment, and then gave a mocking little bob of her head. “Your manners are a lesson in humility to all, my Lord.”

He acknowledged her sarcasm with a self-deprecating grin. “I’m aware of the idiosyncrasies of my nature. We must put pride aside and unite. There are others who would destroy us.”

“What others?” she scorned. “Were we in danger the augur would know.”

His eyes narrowed. “The augur might not see fit to tell you.”

“But it would tell the mighty Kavan, I suppose,” she scorned.

His smile was as smooth and creamy as goat's cheese. “Our enemies are insurgents. They follow the doctrines of Beltane, and seek the alchemist’s sacred stones.”

 So the wishing dish was not set with the stones. She slanted her head to one side and gazed at him. Indeed, she found it hard to keep her eyes from his elegance. “Legend says the stones are lost, swallowed up by the earth in the rift.”

“Legend also says you will become my mate. Why do you fight it?”

Until now she’d enjoyed the cut and thrust of his conversation. Now he’d become predictable. “Rumor can be mistaken for legend, and it’s sometimes started because someone wants something or someone he cannot have.”

“True,” he said, and his laughter sounded like a response to a joke. “By my beard, your mind has more twists and turns than a flea on a mangy cur! Answer this. Why else but dictated by fate, would a man in my position chose someone as stubborn as you for a life-mate – especially when you were already mine for the taking by right of capture?”

As much as she tried to stop it, she bristled with affront. “You do not find me as fair as other maids, then?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “If I liked women in unflattering robes I’d consider you fair. If I liked waspish and contrary dispositions then I might consider you . . . intriguing. If I was attracted to eyes the color of rare crystal and hair like water weed spun through with moonbeams in the river currents . . . why, then, I might just find you more than fair.” His mouth curved into a smile. “In fact, it’s quite possible that under those circumstances I might think of you entrancing and spend my nights tossing and turning at the thought of a kiss from your mouth.”

Unsure of whether he mocked or not, and unaccustomed to the art of flirting, a question balanced tentatively on her tongue. Did he like all those things in a woman?

His eyes held her gaze to his, and his words poured like elixir into her ear. “Are you desirous of my admiration and attention then, Lady.”

She jerked her chin from his hand. She would have to remember to guard her thoughts from now on. “You have stolen me from my people, made a fool of me and insulted me. Why should I want to be admired by you, barbarian?”

“Doesn’t every female want the strongest male to father her children?”

His voice set a thousand muted flames licking into a conflagration of desire. If one had to have children, yes, she would want a strong man to father them?

“When you are mine I will fill your mind with sweetness and your body with a craving only I can satisfy. I’ll plumb your very depths. Your resistance will be overcome and you will know and welcome your master.”

What would it be like, coupled to this barbarian? She’d be helpless to fight off his superior strength as he took his pleasure of her and filled her womb with the seeds of his lust. Yet . . . he’d promised her pleasure too, and satisfaction for the cravings she fought so hard to control. There was one problem with the scenario he painted. She’d accept no man as her master, however highborn!

 Warmth flooded over her and she began to perspire. To bane with this man and his silver tongue. He hadn't laid a finger on her, yet already she was on fire from head to toe for something she’d only read about and imagined. She’d been warned about lust in the temple.

Rule 29. A novice who lusts for carnal knowledge will burn in everlasting banefire!

She glared at him, knowing her cheeks were glowing bright red. “Hah, you will never master me! Take every other woman for a mate. Let them swoon at the sight of you and crave for a moment of your attention. I will not pander to your vanity. I care not a gibber’s worth for legend, or appearing desirable for a puffing adder like you.”

A great, booming laugh rang out. “You are untouched, Tiana. The blood of Lynx flows in your veins, the blood of Arcus in mine. Day and night will meet through us, as destined, each will taste of the turbulent sweetness of the other, and together will produce a son so powerful he’ll rule the universe and take his place amongst the gods. Thus it is written. Thus it will happen.”

“Plant your god-child in another’s womb.” She gazed around her in panic, seeking a way out of a dream that had become too personal. “I do not think I like this dream state.”

“You cannot escape the truth of the augur.” Kavan’s mouth touched against hers in the lightest of kisses. Filled with his sweet nectar, she clung to the kiss for a moment, helplessly drawn to the pleasure of it.
Carnality was sent by Bane to plague the sinful.
When she murmured a protest he released her. She descended gently, cradled in Kavan’s arms.

 When she woke she gave a shaky laugh, and then stretched in languorous rapture. Her body felt different, more aware of its creation and purpose, one that would have been denied on Truarc because of their lack of sustenance and the need to control the population. The dream had aroused the cravings in her she’d been taught to ignore. Longer meditation would be needed this morning to bring the uncomfortable urges under control.

Atarta slunk back in after his night of hunting. His stomach was distended and his breath smelled of blood. He fell into a stupor on his side and she was unable to rouse him. She guessed he was glutting on the abundant prey in the forest. She’d keep him close by tonight and purge him if needed else the edge would be taken from his instinct.

Meditation brought no peace or insight. Her mind kept wandering to Kavan and the dream. She abandoned the practice, going in search of something to fill her stomach instead. The fish in the stream eluded her, their bodies twisting and streaking through her fingers like silver lightning. She’d have to eat the herbs. When she went to fetch them, she discovered the shrub she’d hung them on had been stripped bare of them.

She gazed at the forest, her stomach lurching in a prolonged rumble of protest. Wreathed in mist it looked forbidding. She thought she saw figures moving in the dark, twisting vapors. Forgetting her temple training she yelled. “Cabrilan thieves, may the
Grand Alchemist
burn you in banefire.”

The wind held its breath. Total quiet descended on the forest, as if all the creatures that dwelt in its shelter had become mute. Then there was a prolonged rumble and dust began to rise from fissures in the rocks.

Tiana fled over the shaking ground to the high place, there to hide her face against the rock. She pulled Kavan’s cloak tightly around her to ward off a shower of bouncing pebbles. The fragrance lingering on the cloak brought the dream back into her mind. She snorted. A god child, he’d said. How ridiculous! Everyone knew gods were not born to mortals. Uneasily, she remembered she and Kavan had genetic bonds to the gods.

The quake was soon over. Afterwards, the forest sounds were sharp, alarmed and alien. Tiana wished Sybilla were there to guide her. Recognizing an aching loneliness amongst her frustration and anger, she experienced a rare moment of helplessness and self-pity. Annoyed by it she nudged Atarta with her foot. “You’ve slept too long you idle creature, it’s time you woke.” The beast stumbled to a sitting position and stared bemusedly about him.

“He’s gorged himself in the forest,” a voice said from behind her.

Heart beating in a wild rhythm she spun around to confront a man leaning on a silver stick – a man so ancient he could only be an illusion. His beard was a wonder. It flowed to his belly in a series of thin, beaded braids and was decorated with glittering crystal beads and tinkling bells.

“Who are you and why are you here?” she said, trembling a little because as quickly as her mind provided the answer she had to deny it.

“I’m the
Grand Alchemist
.” He sat on a rock, hugging himself with his arms. “Brrrr, it’s cold out here. You are Tiana, daughter of light?”

She had not expected the
Grand Alchemist
to be so flamboyant. He reminded her of the flim-flam men who frequented the Truarc markets.

His eyes displayed a false impression of blindness, because when she looked closely, both expression and depth were apparent under the opal like surface. He was obviously deluded in his assumption of grandeur, and she must humor him. She smiled. “You need not tell me who I am. Why do you come to me, old man?”

“It’s you who come to me, Tiana. This is a place of sanctuary. My bones rest beneath the waterfall and you roused me with your music.”

 She must be on her guard. This could be some trickery Kavan had dreamed up. “You are mistaken. I have no music.”

“The music of your mind has a stressful melody. The crystal pipes guarding my tomb vibrate with its confusion and sadness. I see from your badge that you’re a follower of my teachings. You evoked me in anger, and are in need of my counsel.”

“I’m sorry ancient of ancients.” She settled herself at his feet, gazing up at him in wary contrition. Was such a manifestation possible? “I was not aware I sought your counsel. Are you truly the spirit of
The Grand Alchemist?
”

“You doubt it?” A shrewd, but slightly shifty expression twisted the web of wrinkles around his eyes. “I suppose you want me to perform some trick or another to convince you.” He tapped the rock above her head with his stick and a stream of yellow songbirds flew out of the hard surface.

“Hmmm.” He appeared abashed as they winged their way into the sky, singing joyfully for their freedom yet his eyes were like those of a child seeking praise for his skills. He spread his hands, mock modest. “I must be losing my touch, they were supposed to be red.”

She supposed she ought to indulge him. “They were wonderful, really.”

He brightened. “Yes, I suppose they were.”

“This is a place of wonder,” she whispered, her glance anxiously on the songbirds as Kavan’s hawk appeared from nowhere to circle lazily above them. She watched the hawk go into a dive and latch on to its prey. Golden feathers floated downwards. “So much for freedom.”