Through the Veil (24 page)

Freeing him to seek out his child.

“Shall I go with you to tell the High Lord?”

Char glanced at the spy with a frown. “No.”

The man paused, a shrewd look in his eyes. “He may have questions.”

He considered lying. The spy didn’t need to know his plans. However, Char had been using his services for decades, had made huge strides with his personal plans thanks to the information the spy had shared with him. Char knew the man was a canny bastard, and he also knew the man had one major personality trait that would work in Char’s favor. The man had no loyalties to any save himself, and the spy also knew that Taise’s grip on reality was slipping, as was his ability to rule rationally.

“If we tell Taise, the High Lord will advance his plans on the final assault.” Char wasn’t prepared for that yet. The final assault that Taise had in mind would have a body count unlike any they had seen before. Char wasn’t fond of waste, but beyond that, he wasn’t going to let the old fool’s asinine ideas interfere with his own plans.

From the corner of his eye, he watched the spy. “I have certain objectives, and if he moves forward, I may never meet those objectives.”

“If I may?” The spy glanced behind him as though he were worried about being overheard. “You realize that if we conceal this information, the High Lord could consider us both in direct violation of his orders.”

With a cynical smile, Char said, “We’re both intelligent men here. We both know that even the greatest leader will eventually make . . . less than wise decisions. Some of those decisions may not have much of an impact. Others could prove detrimental to all who would follow him.”

“And not reporting back to him as ordered could prove detrimental to me.”

“You don’t always report directly to Taise, my friend. Often you’ve reported to me, and in turn, I speak with Taise. We shall just let a few details of this conversation go unsaid.”

Char watched the man think it over, and when the faint smile appeared, Char knew the man would say nothing. He slid Char a squinty-eyed look and mused, “It could be worth my while to decide that I have already been gone from my post for too long.” He held out a palm and gave Char a beatific smile. “It wouldn’t do for my absence to be noticed.”

“Not at all.” More money exchanged hands and each of them smiled. They understood each other.

Char watched as the man tucked away the gold and the paper currency used in Anqar. Then he angled his chin toward the door and said, “You had best be going, before you truly are missed.”

Instead of leaving, though, the spy studied Char thoughtfully. “I wonder what your agenda is. You know how unstable the gates have become—while I do not think Taise has always acted with the utmost caution, I wonder why you are not leaping into action for a full-scale assault and grabbing as many females as you can. When the gate falls, it may be permanent. Do you not fear for the future of Anqar?”

“No. I do not. Unlike Taise, I have been preparing for this. His madness has made him foolish. A full-scale assault would suit his plans.” With a thin-lipped smile, Char added, “But not mine. A full-scale assault could certainly secure more slaves; however, it would end with too many lives lost.”

“You do not strike me as the type to worry overmuch about the loss of life.”

“Waste offends me, my good man. It always has.” Part of the reason he was so determined to reclaim his property. A man’s assets should be put to work for him, not left to flounder or die.

“Hmmm.”

Char wasn’t fooled by the noncommittal sound. He weighed his options. He could order the spy to leave. The man wasn’t a fool—he wouldn’t dare to ignore an order. Ignoring orders could lead to death in this world. But the man was too valuable a tool to lose over that. A valuable tool—an asset. Assets weren’t to be wasted.

With that thought in mind, he paced away from the huge war table and moved to the window. It faced east, and far off in the distance, he could see the flickering green, blue and red lights of the gate energies. If he lowered his lids and focused, he could see the rippling energy forming the actual gate, superimposed over the physical earth. He could hear it as well, that vibrant, seductive song. But over the past few years, the song of the gate energies had become tainted.

Oh, it was still lovely, but too often the sweet flow of music was interrupted by a discordant thrum. That discord was now more part of the song than not, and the gate energies were splintering even as they tried to repair the damage. “Do you know how the gates work, my friend?” Char didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “It’s a disruption in the energy flow of both worlds. When the powers touch, they splinter the fabric that holds our world separate and the gates form. They are sustained by the lives of the worlds. A few souls here and there passing through the gate does little to the power base, but when huge armies pass through, the gate energies are pushed to the breaking point. Left alone, the gate could repair itself. But too many pass through and there is little time for the gate energies to rebuild. Soon they will falter and collapse, and travel between the worlds will be no more.”

He glanced behind him to the spy. “Does this worry you? If the gates fall, you will not be able to run back and forth between the worlds, selling information. Already it becomes more difficult to raise my personal gate to bring you to me. In time, you will not be able to cross at all.”

A faint, sly smile curved the man’s lips. Avarice and greed shone in his eyes. “I will manage.”

Char wasn’t surprised by the response. Many had reacted with outrage, but this man was too practical to waste energy on something that he couldn’t control. “Yes. I imagine you will.” Looking back toward the gates, he said, “Time is getting away from us. Soon, the power will be all gone and the gates will close. There is something in Ishtan that belongs to me. It was taken from me years ago and I will have it back. Once I do, the gates can collapse and never again remake themselves. I could not care less.”

Ever the enterprising bastard, the spy rubbed his palms together and said with a quick smile, “If you will tell me what you seek, perhaps I could help. For a minimal fee.”

Char laughed. “You’re a cocky bastard. How much money do you think you can bilk out of me?”

There was a knock at the door and both men fell silent. The spy moved on silent feet to the small lounge off the side of the war room, and Char waited until the man was out of sight before he opened the door. In the great hall, he could see his servants awaiting him, but he did not call them back into the room yet. Business such as his was too delicate to risk being overheard. Instead, he stood aside and let Arnon enter the room, and once the Sirvani had passed through, Char closed the door behind him.

Arnon’s eyes flicked to the lounge and he murmured, “I have spoken with the High Lord.”

He said nothing else, but Char understood the unspoken words. “A moment.”

It took not much longer than that to get rid of the spy. When Char returned to the main chamber, Arnon was waiting in the exact the same position, his hands linked behind him, his gaze unreadable. As tradition demanded, Arnon’s head was shaved bare. His clothes, from the tunic to his boots, were spotless, and Char knew that under those clothes was a veritable arsenal. A well-maintained one, at that. Arnon was one of the most powerful Sirvani in Char’s army, and the most reliable.

Char trusted no one the way he trusted the man before him. Char might not reveal his objectives to the spy, but Arnon was a different matter. Not for the first time, he considered sending Arnon across the gate to help in the quest, but decided against it.

One thing Arnon couldn’t do was blend in. One look at him, and the small resistance would know exactly what he was. Warlords and their offspring weren’t easy to overlook, and Arnon was no exception.

“You look very grim.”

“I have heard rumors about the old witch. My own sources confirm it is indeed true. Have you told the High Lord?”

Char shook his head. “No. And I will not.”

Arnon nodded as though he had expected no other response. “We are on borrowed time, Lord.”

From under his lashes, Char watched Arnon and replied, “I am fully aware of that, Arnon. Have you come with useful information or will you simply parrot back what I have already heard from a number of sources?”

A cool smile formed on Arnon’s face. “I simply wonder what your spy had to say about any remaining witches.”

With a dismissive wave, Char responded, “Little to none. One untrained witch in the immediate area, and the others are likely weeks away.”

One dark brown brow winged up, but other than that, Arnon’s face remained impassive. “One untrained witch.”

Char chuckled. “It would seem we have been perhaps too thorough in the raids. Most of the talented Ishtanians have already fled, or were captured during the raids. Once Eira is gone, there will be no balancing force on the other side of the gate, and it will be only a matter of time before the power fluctuations completely destroy it. We must find my daughter before that happens.”

EIGHT

“Lee.”

It was hours later and Lee was too damn tired to deal with Kalen or his moods, but it was pretty damn clear he didn’t care. Lee could all but feel the heat of his anger beating the air around her. The afternoon she’d spent avoiding him hadn’t seemed to cool his temper in the slightest.

Damn. Just ten more feet and she would have made it inside and she could have collapsed onto the bed, feigned sleep. After a minute or two, she wouldn’t have had to feign anything. Lee was tired enough that she knew within a few minutes of being horizontal, she would have been dead to the world. “I’m tired, Kalen. I don’t feel like talking.”

“Too bad,” he snarled. His hand came down on her neck and he squeezed. Lee tried to keep walking, but he’d stopped, and that unrelenting grip on her neck wasn’t letting go. He wasn’t hurting her, but he wasn’t going to budge either.

She recognized the futility of struggling, and rather than suffer the indignity of trying and failing, she just stood there. “What do you want?”

He glanced around and scowled. Too many people were watching them without really appearing to. Lee could feel their eyes on them, and now self-consciousness piled on top of anger. “Not here,” he muttered.

Anger chased away the weight of exhaustion, and the second the door closed behind them, she said, “If you don’t take your damn hand off me, I’m going to bite you.”

His head lowered, and he rumbled into her ear, “Go ahead. I’ll bite back . . . but first . . .”

Jealousy had a good, tight hold on Kalen, and even though common sense told him he was overreacting, he couldn’t stop. He kept replaying those moments over and over in his mind: Morne bent over Lee while she stared at him with a look akin to fascination. Their focus on each other had been complete. For a few moments, nothing else had existed, not the war, not the world around them and not Kalen.

He wasn’t sure what pissed him off the most, Morne touching her—or that complete and utter focus that blinded them to all else. He’d known Morne for years—the enigmatic stranger had appeared in their midst years ago. Mistrustful of the man at first, Kalen had slowly gotten to know him, grown to trust him.

Kalen also knew his people. Women went nuts over Morne. It was almost like there was something inside the man that called to women. Even in the middle of war, the man wouldn’t ever have to spend a moment alone if he didn’t want to.

Morne barely seemed to notice. Kalen could count on one hand how many times he’d seen the man voluntarily touch anybody unless he was doing a healing. So why in the name of the saints was the bastard touching Lee?

When Kalen had stumbled upon them, there was something weird hanging in the air. Some odd, intangible connection.

He had only touched her face. Morne’s hand cupping her cheek, his fingers pushed inside her hair, their faces close but not touching. Staring at each other. Lee had looked hypnotized. It wasn’t something that could be called innocent, but neither had there been anything overtly sexual about the encounter. Still, anybody touching Lee was enough to enrage him.

Kalen growled and spun away from her to prowl the tight confines of the small cabin.

He couldn’t believe . . . He bounced back from the disbelief, to the irrational fury. He swung back around to her and closed the distance between them. Fisting one hand in the soft, silky shirt she wore under her cavinir, he jerked her up onto her toes. “Why did he touch you? What did he want?”

Her soft blue eyes weren’t so soft as she glared at him. They blazed like blue flame, and fury flushed her face a delicate pink. She closed her hand around his wrist and tugged in an attempt to dislodge his grip. “I don’t know what he wanted. And would you quit acting like you found us rolling naked on the ground?”

Oh, now, that was the completely wrong thing to say. That image exploded in Kalen’s mind and he jerked Lee forward. Her soft, strong body crashed into his as he lowered his mouth to hers. “Don’t let him touch you again, Lee. You hear me?”

Any answer she might have made, he smothered with his lips. She wouldn’t open for him. He angled her chin and squeezed her jaw until her mouth opened. The taste of her hit his system like a lightning bolt, electrifying and breath-stealing. Lee’s hands pushed at his shoulders and she twisted in his arms even though her lips clung to his. He lifted her body in his arms and turned, pressing her against the wall. “You can’t understand what it does to me, thinking about somebody else touching you,” he murmured against her lips. He fisted his hand in the silky strands of her hair and jerked her neck to the side.