Love Never-Ending (5 page)

“Trav has a price on his head and he thought the cave would
be a safe place to hide.” Bishop gave her a quick rundown of his adventure
after his abduction.

“Fascinating.”

“Not as fascinating as this place. What are all of these
dome structures?”

One of the village men—Bish wasn’t sure whether it was Jonas
or Mali— answered, “Most of them are homes. The others are shops or other
public buildings. The big green dome on the left is the school.”

Bish was distracted from the domes and the village when
several youngsters rushed past the men carrying the stretcher, surrounding him
and Jade. He thought that most of them were boys but reserved judgment just in
case he was wrong.

“Mama, who are the strangers?”

“What’s wrong with that man?”

“Are they gonna stay, Mama?”

“Those clothes look like the funny clothes Dancer used to
wear.”

An older boy joined them just then, inquiring with quiet
authority, “Is this the Llewellyns’ way?” Immediately an uneasy silence fell
over the group. After a moment he said, “I believe the school is behind me.”
With a silent rush, the children ran to line up beside the school door.

“Falcon, this is your uncle, Bishop Llewellyn.”

Bish was impressed when the youngster gravely offered his
hand. “Welcome, Uncle. I’m sorry the littlies were rude to you. I’ll speak to
them about it.” They shook hands, Falcon kissed his mother’s cheek and then he
trotted off without another word.

“Are all of them your children?” Bish asked.

She sighed. “I’m afraid so. Falcon was right. They were
acting very badly. I suppose that means there will be punishments meted out.
I’m sure that Llyon and Tyger didn’t miss their misbehavior.” She patted
Bishop’s arm. “If you take me home, I’ll find someone to feed us breakfast and
get you settled in.”

“Punishment?”

“They’re warrior trainees. You noticed how all of them wore
their hair in braids?”

“Yeah, I noticed. Weird little braids with beads in them.”

“All warriors and warrior trainees wear their hair in the
braids. The beads are called
chinkas
and the colors denote rank and
specialties.”

“Uh-huh.” Bishop looked around for the rest of the group and
saw them entering a large multi-domed complex several domes away. “They’re
taking Trav into a building with domes that are all different colors.”

“That would be the Llewellyn hodgepodge. Every time we added
on a dome, Merlyn wanted to try a different color.”

“You live there?” Doubtfully, he studied the rainbow of
colorful domes and compared it to his own dignified brick townhouse back in
Baltimore. “Couldn’t you paint it all one color or something?”

She chuckled. “No, I’m sorry to tell you the color is a
permanent part of the building material.”

“You’re very different, you know. Not at all like the Jade I
remember.” Bishop led her toward the Llewellyn domes while trying to take in as
much of the surroundings as possible. The more time passed, the more he felt
like Alice. Years of watching science fiction and fantasy movies had not
prepared him for taking part in his own personal adventure. It occurred to him
that his private movie was missing a soundtrack.

“I was in my twenties, Bish. Hopefully, all of us change for
the better as we get older. Besides, as you pointed out, I’m blue.”

“Now you sound like the Jade I remember. Sassier.”

“I’ve been up all night. Merlyn and I were down at Dai’s
Retreat and we walked most of the night to get here.” Abruptly, she yawned.
“Excuse me! I guess it’s all catching up with me. Are we almost there?”

“We’re almost to the steps.” Bishop guided her up the broad
shallow steps and into a cool dark hall. Through a doorway on the right, he
could see one of the red-haired twins working on Trav. “Now what?”

“Tyger!” Jade called.

The other red-haired twin stepped into the hallway from
another doorway. “I’m here. Arano is fixing breakfast. Arturo is arranging for
their belongings to be fetched from the cave. Uncle Bishop, please bring Mama
into the kitchen.”

Jade shook her head. “No. I just want to go to bed. I’m
tired.”

“Of course you are.” A young man with dark hair popped out
from another doorway farther down the hall and swiftly joined them. Without any
more discussion, he swept Jade up in his arms and carried her off.

Suddenly for the first time since he woke, Bishop was all
alone.

Mystic Valley—Lost Market

Low murmurs and restless wiggling spread as the children
failed to settle into their normal routine. Samara and her fellow teacher,
Glenys Goodspeed, knew that there was little hope for that until someone
brought news about the visitors. Visitors were practically unheard of until
Dancer had appeared nearly a moon before. Prior to that no new visitors had
arrived in over twenty years.

The school door opened, revealing the tall figure of Wolfe
Llewellyn. Immediately, the room went quiet and all fidgeting ceased. Wolfe
stepped into the room and nodded respectfully at the teachers. “I thought
perhaps you would wish to know about the visitors.”

“Yes, please.” Samara couldn’t understand why his news was
so important but the strange anticipation spread until her entire body seemed
to hum with excitement.

“Our uncle, Bishop Llewellyn, has arrived with Traveller
Devereaux. Traveller is seriously injured from an accident. Dai has declared
the Llewellyn domes a quiet zone until further notice.”

The injuries must be serious indeed for Dai to take that
step. Samara took a deep shaky breath. Wrenna, who had waited anxiously for
Traveller to arrive, faced yet another trial as Traveller healed. For the first
time, Samara did not feel envious at all. What must it be like to watch your
bond mate suffer?

Wolfe frowned at his young siblings. “There will be no
repeat of your rude behavior this morning. Our uncle is very confused and
distressed. You will demonstrate the manners you’ve been taught.”

“Yes, Wolfe,” they chorused quietly.

“Now it is time for you to settle down and learn well.” With
another nod at Samara and Glenys, he softly departed, leaving an expectant hush
in the classroom.

Glenys immediately took charge, setting the students to
practicing their glyph calligraphy. The graceful glyphs for the ancient valley
language had almost fallen out of use until the council determined that they
would be taught in all valley schools. Banisher Ewell, Master Archivist, had
campaigned long and hard for that, pointing out that qualified archivists were
difficult to find. If the glyphs fell into total disuse, who would translate
the laws from the great Talking Wall?

Glenys had grown up in a home where the glyphs were in
constant use so she taught a lesson every day and Samara learned along with the
students. Both students and Samara found working on the glyphs a soothing
pastime.

While she carefully drew the curving lines and swirls of the
glyphs, Samara puzzled over the butterflies that still buzzed in her stomach
and the breathless expectation in her chest. Why was she having these odd
feelings? What did it mean? Sooner than she thought possible, it was her turn
to teach the lesson on numbers. She pushed the strange feelings away and
concentrated on sharing her knowledge with their younger students while Glenys
taught valley history to the older students in the small room next door. In a
lively discussion on education, her mother had maintained that schools were the
same out-valley and in. They all taught the same basic subjects to the very
young and then added local interest subjects for the older children. What would
she be teaching if she lived out-valley? she wondered.

The day flew by after that. When Glenys dismissed the
children, they piled out into the yard with giggles and the usual childish
babble until Falcon whistled for silence. Samara could only guess what he was
saying but shortly the Llewellyn children trotted off in a quiet orderly group
while the rest of the children ran for their homes. In a few moments Glenys said
a soft goodbye and left. At last, Samara was alone. While she finished putting
away the slates and books and stacks of
linual
, she compiled a mental
list of things she needed to pick up from the baker and butcher before she
walked home.

She had a taste for the spicy out-valley dish that her
mother made.
Chili.
Samara giggled. Strange to call it
cold
when
it was such a
hot
dish. It would require extra work to mince the meat
and vegetables but she decided to stop at the butcher’s and ask for some fresh
rowan
meat.

Finally, ready to leave, she carefully closed the school
door and set off for the bakery, hoping that Dan Miller still had some of
today’s batch of
barbahla
bread. If not, she would settle for a
wachaz
loaf but her heart was set on the flat bread. Fresh
barbahla
bread would
be perfect with the hot chili.

She strolled past the Llewellyn domes and turned into the
bakery. A strange man with very short hair sat with Dai on the front steps of
the Llewellyn domes. Samara couldn’t resist flicking a curious look at the man,
though it was considered very rude. After a few moments she decided that Merlyn
probably would have looked very much like this man before he came to the
valley. The stranger—Bishop—had the same odd tannish-pinkish-colored skin as
Dancer.

The man scowled at her and she hastily turned away and went
inside to chat with Dan. He would no doubt have the latest news. A few moments
later when she exited the bakery with a flat
barbahla
loaf
and
a
wachaz
loaf that Dan urged on her, the men on the steps were gone. She gave a silent
little sigh and turned toward the butcher. Silly to be so curious.

* * * * *

Bishop stood in Trav’s room, frowning down at his friend who
slumbered in a deep unnatural sleep. Dai had explained that some of the healers
in the valley could impose the deep healing sleep on their patients in place of
sleeping potions. Bish still couldn’t fathom how they could heal Trav without
any modern medicines or machinery but Wolfe had assured him that Llyon had
already healed the most critical injuries.

Through the window, he saw the woman exit the bakery and
walk off across the village green. He scowled again when he remembered Dai’s
words. “She is ineligible to mate.”

What the fuck did that mean? And why was she ineligible? He
couldn’t wait to get out of this weird place, although according to Baron—no,
Merlyn
—it
wasn’t possible to leave. All that he knew was that he would go crazy if he had
to stay here. Stark raving crazy.

Merlyn had disappeared after making a mysterious mention of
something called
schalzina
immediately after he and Dai returned with
Dancer and Eppie. Whatever it was, no one found it strange that they just
walked away. It freaked him out when Dai kissed Merlyn goodbye. What the fuck?

And Dancer was that bizarre blue color now and was wearing
one of those funky skirts. Bishop determined that he would go naked before he
wore one of the sissy outfits.

Dancer and Dai had made sly comments about airiness and
availability. Bishop was no fool even if he hadn’t quite puzzled out the
references to availability except for the most obvious one. Clearly, if he
found a woman to fuck, then all he had to do was flip up the sissy skirt and
he’d be available. He had a notion that there was more to it than that.

Then with startling abruptness Dancer and Eppie disappeared
into one of the domes with another of those mysterious references to
schalzina
.
Tyger had carted Llyon off to their room, muttering something about
katuazha
.

When Bishop wandered into the kitchen, Arano or Arturo—how
many sets of twins did Jade and Merlyn have?—had prepared some breakfast for
him. Another young man who looked very much like Arano and Arturo with the same
black braids and snapping dark eyes laconically explained that
katuazha
meant that Tyger was Llyon’s caretaker when he performed healing. Bishop found
that explanation as clear as mud.

He felt like his head was going to explode with all the new
information bombarding him and he longed to go somewhere, anywhere for some
peace and quiet. Just then the young man who had tried to explain
katuazha
offered to show him to a guestroom.

“What am I supposed to do there?” Bishop snarled grumpily.

“Rest, bathe or contemplate your navel. Whatever you wish,
Uncle.” The little flash of fangs when he smiled and the twinkle of amusement
in his dark eyes pissed Bishop off.

“How old are you?”

“I have eighteen years.”

“And which one are you?”

“Wolfe,” his nephew replied promptly as he ushered Bish into
a cool, dimly lit room. With a touch the light stone on the table brightened.
Wolfe went to a cabinet in the corner and opened the doors. Inside were piles
of folded fabric—clothing, Bishop guessed. Wolfe selected a dark blue folded
bundle and shook it out. Turning to Bish, he held it up in front of his uncle.
“This should fit. See? It fastens this way. We call it a
sharda
.”

“If you think I’m wearing that skirt, you’ve lost your
mind.”

“Uh-hmm. Dancer said the same thing. Yet, as you saw, he was
most happily wearing a
sharda
.” Wolfe tossed the garment on the bed and
added a pale blue
shera
.

“If you decide that you want clean clothing, there it is.”
Then Wolfe pointed to a door in the far wall. “The bathing room is through that
door. There are clean bathing sheets and toiletries in the cabinet.”

Bishop marched over to the door, expecting primitive
facilities at the best. He was shocked to find a spacious light-filled bathroom
with a deep luxurious tub. The sunlight from the overhead skylight shone down
on jeweled faucets clearly marked with “H” and “C”.

Wolfe plucked two jars from the cabinet and handed them to
Bishop. “The blue one is a depilatory, safe for use on your face. Spread it on
and wipe it off. The green one is a soft soap. It takes very little,” Wolfe
warned. “It’s safe to use on your hair.” He grinned. “Don’t mix them up. Your hair
is pretty short, but I expect that you want to keep what you have.”

“Funny. You’re a funny, funny guy, Wolfe. What happened? You
draw the short straw?” Bish opened the blue jar and sniffed. “It doesn’t smell
bad.”

“Short straw? I’m not familiar with that expression.”

“Everyone in a group draws a stick or straw to decide an
action. The one with the short straw gets stuck doing whatever unpleasant duty
beckons.” Bish dipped a finger in the blue salve and rubbed it over his upper
lip. He was already missing half his mustache so he might as well even things
out. Wolfe handed him a small cloth from the cabinet. With a shrug he held it
under the faucet and ran the hot water over it. After wringing it out, he wiped
away the salve, surprised at the smooth skin revealed.

“You are not an unpleasant duty, Uncle. This is a busy time
in the valley with a lot of unusual activity. I merely thought that you would
appreciate a period of reflection and peace. Was I wrong?”

Bish stared at the young man lounging at ease in the
doorway. There was no denying that he
was
a man—a young male with broad
shoulders and chest. The smooth blue skin, the gently pointed ears and tilted
eyes all contributed to an overall picture of virile, tough manhood. Bish
didn’t make the mistake of underestimating his nephew. He noted the strong,
muscular biceps ringed with vaguely Celtic tattoos and remembered the ease
Wolfe had displayed that morning when he carried his mother to her room. He was
the strangest eighteen-year-old that Bish had ever encountered. “So Wolfe, what
do you do here in the valley? You have a young lady you’re interested in?”

“I am an apprentice healer. Soon I will go to Rebaccah’s
Promise to complete my training.” Wolfe turned and walked back into the bed
room. “I will leave you alone now. When dinner is ready, I will send someone to
let you know.”

Bish heard the soft sound of the door closing. It seemed
that his wish was granted. He was alone. He had an idea that his question about
a young lady was the reason that Wolfe had suddenly left him on his own.

Absently he fitted the plug, a beautifully carved rose, in
the drain and began filling the tub. A bath was exactly what he needed,
followed by a nap. Maybe then he would feel almost human again. Maybe he would
even wake up to find that the last twenty-four hours had been some kind of
awful nightmare. He wasn’t counting on that, though. Not at all.

Bish stripped off the filthy t-shirt and shorts and stepped
into the tub. The water wasn’t steaming hot like he was used to but comfortably
warm. Keeping Wolfe’s warning in mind, he dipped out a bit of the green soap
and smeared it on the small cloth and began to wash his legs and sore feet.
Immediately, he discovered that he could have used it for a bubble bath. As the
water pounding into the tub hit the soap, bubbles frothed in big piles. Soon
they covered him to his waist.

He turned the water off and leaned back for a leisurely
soak, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t likely be disturbed. There were
so many things to think about. Was he really trapped in the valley? Or was
there some reason Baron wanted him to believe that he was?
Merlyn.
How
long would it take before he was comfortable calling his brother Merlyn?

On the walk from the caves, Jade had mentioned that the blue
skin and other changes were an adaptation so they could survive in the valley.
He wondered how long it would be before he started turning blue. Maybe it was
in the food, he speculated. Maybe the weird green eggs he had for breakfast had
something to do with it.

When he was sitting on the steps with Dai, the old man
warned him not to approach any of the women. His cock hardened at just the
thought of the woman at the bakery. She certainly wasn’t his usual type but
something in the way she moved had the blood rushing to his cock. Bish wondered
if the women also were naked beneath their little wrapped dresses. His rod
stuck up out of the bubbles as though seeking an answer.