Reluctant Concubine (31 page)

“The Lady Tera and I have matters to discuss in private.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me after him down the corridor, through his antechamber into his bedchamber, and slammed the door hard enough to shake the torches in their sconces.

My heart clamored like a small chowa bird trapped in a net.
Spirit, be strong. Heart, be brave.
I tried to step back, but he would not let me. His hand was an iron band around my arm, although his fingers did not dig into my flesh, and I suffered no pain.  

I took heart from that. Even in his great anger, he would not hurt me.

He looked me over once more, his gaze settling on my shorn hair, his eyes narrowing with a cold flare of fury.

“Who did this to you?” Murder rang clear in his voice.

“None other but I.” I somehow kept my voice from trembling.

“Why do you test me so?” His voice roughened. “You have not been harmed?”

I shook my head.

He let me go at last. But I found I could not step away from him. Something in his gaze wouldn’t let me.

“When I found you gone…” His great chest rose as he breathed. “I thought…”

I swallowed. “I won’t leave like that again.”

He reached forme once more, taking my hand, then drew me closer and pressed his lips to mine.

He did not stop there.

So it happened that when most women my age already had children to occupy their time, I was finally kissed, by no other than the Kadar High Lord, Batumar.

His lips were warm and seeking, not nearly as unyielding as the rest of his body. His mouth caressed mine until my entire body tingled.

I am not sure how long the kiss lasted; my sense of time left me along with sense of anything but his lips and arms. I had, of course, thought about how it would be, like any young girl, but I had been long since a woman. And Batumar made me feel like one. When his hand wandered up my arm, I shivered as if with fever.

Then, at long last, he drew his lips away and touched his forehead to mine. His chest rose and fell heavily.

“Shall we go to the evening feast?” he asked in a raspy voice, speaking with effort.
Or shall we stay
, I guessed the unspoken second part of his question. 

Stay
, I wanted to say, not ready to see the heady feeling end, but I suddenly remembered the Guardians and jumped back. “You have visitors coming, my lord.” Then I told him in a rush about my days at the Forgotten City. 

“I should go and change, my lord,” I added once I finished my tale.

He frowned, but he granted me leave.

Leena waited for me in front of his door and threw herself at my feet in tears of joy as I stepped out of the chamber. I pulled her up into my arms, and for once she forgot herself and freely returned my embrace. We hurried to Pleasure Hall while Batumar strode straight to the feast, bidding me in passing to hasten after him.

Once in my chamber, Leena, beaming with relief, pinned my hair back and attached a gossamer arrangement of veil in such a way as to cover my shorn locks.

She spread out a golden cloud of a gown, as soft as a dream, but I shook my head. I had never been a true concubine of the High Lord’s Pleasure Hall, and I felt less so now than ever before. I dressed in my thudi and Shahala tunic, and pulled the brown robe of the Guardians over that.

I looked around the room and on the top of the wooden chest saw the soft glint of the emerald brooch. I had not worn it since I had received it. But now I fastened the jewel to the brown fabric cascading from my shoulders to better hold the folds together.

Leena fussed. “We best hurry, my lady.”

By the time I reached the Great Hall, the feast was underway. Every eye turned upon me as I walked to sit in the empty seat between Gilrem and Batumar. Neither of them commented on my garments as they greeted me.

As the feast proceeded and the foreign emissary on Batumar’s other side claimed his attention, at last I told Lord Gilrem about the Forgotten City. I think he only half believed me until one of the Palace Guards announced the visitors.

Batumar nodded, and the guard pushed the door open to allow the Guardians to enter. How odd they looked in this place, more ancient than the walls of the palace, solemn like the forgotten gods of the myths. Their brown robes swept the floor and seemed to glow in the flickering light of the torches. Gasps sounded from all around the room as the very air seemed to thin.

“Greetings to the High Lord and his esteemed brother and the Lady Tera. Good tidings from the Seela of the Forgotten City,” the Guardian of the Cave said ceremoniously. The Guardian of the Gate held his great carved stick. Even the Guardian of the Scrolls stood tree-straight, and without frowning.

I knew them to be curious of Karamur and the palace, but they did not gawk like children at the marketplace. They behaved with solemn dignity even as Lord Gilrem gaped at them next to me.

The murmur of people filled the Great Hall, everyone staring.

“Greetings, esteemed Guardians.” Batumar bade them to sit, and warriors moved at once to make room at the high table.

But the feast quickly fell into disarray as people would not eat, too intent on guessing what the Guardians’ appearance meant. They had been but mythical creatures of legends before this moment, the men’s and women’s astonishment as great as if the three-headed talking warthog of Morandor appeared among them, straight from the fairytales.

And thus, after a short time, Batumar rose and invited the visitors to his private chambers, requesting Lord Gilrem and me to follow.

“The Lady Tera tells me you are here to discuss the war. Have you any news of Khan Woldrom and his Khergi hordes? Or the Emperor Drakhar who sends them to our distruction?” the High Lord asked once we were all seated in his antechamber.

The Guardian of the Cave shook his head. “Only what is in the prophecies.”

Batumar leaned back in his chair. “They are near. Within a day or two, I shall have to leave again. Emmisaries come daily to ask for our help.”

“Take the Lady Tera with you, High Lord,” said the Guardian of the Cave. “For the prophecies are clear. With her stands our only hope of victory.”

Batumar gave him a sharp look, his voice even but hard as he said, “I do not need a woman to fight my wars for me.”

“But it is written—”

The High Lord lifted his hand. “She will stay here in safety.”

The Guardian of the Cave would not give up. “My lord, if you would consider…”

Batumar measured up the three men for some time before he turned to me. “As you give health and life, my lady, can you also take it away?”

“I do not understand, my lord.” Although I had a feeling he did not mean giving the wrong herb by mistake.

“If you stood in the battlefield, could you take people’s lives without touching them? From a distance?” His gaze searched my face.

My breath caught. “I would rather die than ever try such a thing.”

He nodded as if he had expected that answer.

“Lady Tera, if it is your destiny—” the Guardian of the Cave began to say, then fell silent as the Guardian of the Scrolls cast him a dark look.

My destiny.. For war

My throat tightened. It could not be true.

I looked from man to man. A swift panic rose to swallow me as the mist sometimes swallowed Karamur. All my trepidations returned.

“I have no such great power as to save nations.”

The Guardian of the Cave, who sat by my side, covered my hand with his on the table as he turned to me and spoke to me in a low voice no other would hear. “Perhaps you fear not the lack of powers, my Lady Tera, but that you might be indeed powerful beyond all that you have thus far imagined.”

A strangled sound of distress escaped my throat. How little, after all this time, he knew me. “I have no great power but the gift of some healing.”

“Does the thought of power worry you? Do you think it might corrupt you as it corrupted your great-grandmother?”

I did not want to answer, but then I recalled the flawed crystal that had shattered into sharp, dangerous shards, and I nodded, moisture filling my eyes.

“For some, their endless potential can be more frightening than their shortcomings,” he said with understanding. “You have not been called to be a simple healer, Tera.”

I had been trying to accept that. Had read the first scroll, even if I felt unworthy. And I planned on reading the others as they opened. I would do whatever they required of me. But as I looked around, I realized that all those around me believed I would save them through war.

How could I take lives instead of preserving them as was my sacred duty? Even for the sake of multitudes, I could not.

I stood with determination, feeling the weight of the men’s gazes upon me. “I will not aid in killing.” My voice rang strong and clear. “I refuse my destiny.”

Silence met my declaration. A hard tension crackled through the room.

“The prophecy says you are our only hope of defeating the enemy,” the Guardian of the Gate reminded me.

A stunned expression came over Lord Gilrem’s face as he looked at me, then at his brother. “Who is she?”

“The One Foretold,” Batumar said with a frown, as if not the least pleased.

“The One Foretold?” Lord Gilrem paled.

“I refuse my destiny,” I repeated, standing firm.

More silence followed my words.

“But then how will she lead the Kadar to victory?” Lord Gilrem asked once he recovered.

“Through peace,” I said, suddenly inspired, and felt the horrible weight lift.

The Guardians exchanged glances. My heart filled with hope. They were considering my suggestion.

Batumar shook his head. “There can be no peace with this enemy.”

“How do we know?” I forged on. “I shall go as an ambassador and plead a treaty.”

“No,” the men around the table said as one, truly exasperating in their stubbornness.

“Empires rise and fall, for such is the way of the world,” I said. “Dahru is precious to us, but it must be of small value to this giant enemy. It is better to have a treaty and live than to fight and perish. The First People fought, and they are no more. The Seela are fewer and fewer with every coming year. They might not last through a long war. The Shahala do not know how to fight, many would die. The Kadar are strong but outnumbered—”

“I will not crawl to the enemy as a coward.” Batumar’s voice held thunder.

“Then you put your pride before the life of your people, my lord.” I could think of nothing else but those wounded warriors I had treated, the pain in their bodies and the death in their eyes, and the cry of the widows whose men had not returned.

Batumar looked at me, his gaze sharp as a sword. “A treaty would not work. The Kerghi are hungry for blood.”

“But they conquered many lands. Their army must be stretched far and wide. What if we offered tribute? What harm can it do to try? If the spirits meant to save us through war, why would they choose me?” I looked around at the men who had grown up with and believed the prophecy. But did they believe strongly enough to accept what I had to say?

Silence enveloped the room, my words left hanging in the air.

“If she
is
The One Foretold…” Lord Gilrem rose. “I shall go. The Khergi khan, Woldrom, is said to be in the city of Mernor, his latest conquest. I shall leave tomorrow.” 

The Guardian of the Scrolls stood as well, and to my surprise, he said, “And so shall I.”

“With a large contingency of guards,” Batumar added, the lines on his forehead turning into deep furrows, his mouth drawn tight.

But the Guardian of the Scrolls shook his head. “If Woldrom is open to peace, we should not need more men.”

“And if he is not”—Lord Gilrem smiled with bravado—“a unit of guards will not mean much.” 

They both looked at Batumar, and after a while, he reluctantly nodded. “But the Lady Tera stays.”

This I fought, but he would not budge, no matter what I told him.

* * *

The Guardian of the Gate and the Guardian of the Cave returned to the Forgotten City, while the Guardian of the Scrolls stayed at the palace. I stayed up late into the night talking with him. In the morning, Batumar assembled his warriors and their supplies so we could begin our journey to Dahru’s Gate on the other side of the mountain.

Two long days we traveled on the backs of the manyinga before we reached the high plateau. And for the first time, I saw the Gate of the World.

The strange structure resembled not a gate at all but rather a ruin, the columns of a Great Hall that had fallen down long ago. Tall stone pillars reached to the sky in pairs, forming a circle, more pillars resting on top of them. Each such formation did resemble a gate of some sort, I suppose, but they led nowhere, only a circle of moss between them.

The Guardian of the Gate was there, but I hardly recognized him. He wore the clothes of a servant and moved slowly, his back bent with age, his hood covering his face. When he looked at me, he gave no sign of recognition.

“Why is he like that?” I asked Lord Gilrem who rode his manyinga next to mine.

“Who?” he asked and looked around as if the old man was invisible to him.

“The Guardian.” I pointed as the Guardian of the Gate turned from us and leaned heavily on his staff.

“The old man? He is the groundskeeper, a position passed down in his family. Easy work, I suppose.” He shrugged. “He cannot have much to do around here.”

All around us, warriors covered the side of the mountain.

“The number of men guarding the Gate was recently doubled,” Lord Gilrem informed me as he slid off his manyinga and helped me off mine.

The Guardian of the Scrolls was already waiting.

“Are you certain you wish to go, grandfather?” I asked him.

“Like you, I wish for peace.”

A few steps behind us, Lord Gilrem called out to the Guardian of the Gate. “Which gateway would be best, you think, for Mernor?” And then he walked up to me, saying, “The caretaker has an uncanny ability to find the smoothest journey to the exact place you want to go.” 

The Guardian of the Gate shuffled over to us, bowed, and touched his stick to the boulder next to him. Lord Gilrem and the Guardian of the Scrolls walked through the gate side by side, an old man and a young warrior in his prime.