Mer: Crystal Rose Part 31

Ladhar rejected that tell. "And his body lost forever, no doubt. Convenient. You couldn't tell me where it is or show it to me."

Fhada blinked as if a strong light had been shone in his eyes and said, "In the depths of Mertuile there is a chamber, open to the Sea by vents and sluices-"

Blood rushed from Ladhar's face and extremities as if sucked through a hole beneath his feet. "Enough! I've heard of this chamber. Believe me, I'll go there and expose your tell for the lie it is. Daimhin Feich would never have dared to murder an Osraed of Bevol's stature. After all, he expected Bevol to be discredited-"

"How so?" asked Fhada. "Cyne Colfre had taken Taminy into his house and his heart, insofar as he was able. Bevol was Taminy's champion. A persuasive champion, if the reaction of the Hall was any indication. A threat to all Daimhin Feich held dear."

Ladhar put up his hands. "Past history. You try to confuse me. Get out of here, before I call down the guard. There are Malcuim regulars here now, you know."

Fhada nodded. "Yes. We walked past them on our way in. Listen to us, Osraed. Do not dismiss us so quickly."

"Why should I not?"

"Can you deny that Feich is a threat to the Crystal, to the Throne, to the fabric of our society?"

"I . . . I do not deny it, but he is a threat I can handle."

"He has powers," said Lealbhallain, his verdant eyes on the Stone. It turned them to topazes and his hair to flame.

"I have seen them. They are . . . limited."

"They are stronger than you think, Ladhar," said Fhada. "Strong and capricious and uncontrollable."

"He lacks discipline. He has no real training."

"Which makes him even more dangerous. Perhaps he would be less a danger if you were to teach him some discipline-or have you already tried and failed?"

"I wouldn't teach him to squat in the privy!"

"Will you let him have the Stone?"

"I . . ."

"He will take it."

"I won't let him take it. I will Weave a Ward for it."

"Please, let us hide it," said Lealbhallain, begging now. "Replace it with this. He need not know."

Ladhar's eyes widened at the sight of the crystal the boy clutched in his hands. It was identical to the Osmaer in every way.

"Where did you get that? Whose crystal is it?"

"Bevol's."

Quivering, Ladhar sat hard upon his bench. "You mock the Osmaer."

"We try to save her." Lealbhallain moved to sit beside him, cradling Bevol's accursed Stone in open hands. "From Daimhin Feich, Abbod. Think of it. Look into your heart. Your soul. Tell me you don't see the danger here."

"Oh, I see the danger, boy. As well I see that you have given me a choice that is no choice."

"Still, you must choose."

Ladhar snorted. "The lesser of two evils? That is a choice I decline to make."

The young heretic gazed up at his elder, resignation in his eyes, the sign and symbol of his heresy bright upon his brow.

Fhada, gazing back, shook his head. "You make a choice in not choosing, Abbod. You make Feich the victor by your inaction."

"If," Ladhar said, barely understanding why he said it, "if this matter is so vital, so grave, why do you not force me to part with the Stone? Why do you not take it from me unwilling?"

Lealbhallain rose. "That isn't the Meri's way, Abbod Ladhar. You know that. Violence is the way of evil." With another glance at Fhada, the boy held Bevol's crystal out to him. "If you will not let us take the Stone, at least let me give you this one."

"What am I to do with that?"

"Replace the Osmaer with it before Daimhin Feich returns. Hide the Osmaer in some safe place."

When Ladhar made no move to take the crystal from the boy's hands, he laid it in the Abbod's broad lap.

"Don't let him get his hands on the Stone, Osraed Ladhar. For love of the Meri, don't let him."

They left him then, and were wrapped in their aislinn veil before they reached the outer corridor. The weak light of dawn rippled with their pa.s.sing.

Ladhar opened his mouth to give alarm, but uttered no sound. It would do no good. The guards' eyes would not penetrate the Weave of the heretics' inyx. Besides, he no longer had the strength. Instead, he sat and stared at the thing in his lap-Bevol's crystal. Aiffe, it was named-"life-giver." Ironic, since its master was dead.

He laid a hand to the facets. Beneath his fingers, the stone warmed, emitting a soft glow. Still, Ladhar s.h.i.+vered, wrapped in the chill of a dank, sea-fed chamber below the foundations of Mertuile.

Dawn brought storm, if only to Daimhin Feich's soul. Lightning lashed his mind and thunder shook his bones. He was beset by demons; he was in the company of aingeals and saints. They shrieked at him; they sang to him, and when he emerged from the cacophony, leaving even the quiet sobs of the Cirkemaster's daughter behind a closed door, he was certain of his invincibility.

And hungry. G.o.d-the-Spirit, but he was hungry! He returned to his own rooms long enough to bathe and change his clothing, then he ordered up a breakfast fit for two men. Ruadh came down while he was eating, but didn't stay. With a mumbled "good morning," he slunk off to the kitchen to scavenge a meal.

"Not hungry," he said.

Jealous, Daimhin thought, savoring his tea. Everything tasted glorious this morning. His senses were sharper, clearer. Sounds, sights, smells-all held a pungency he had never known. He basked in all of it, knowing without looking in any mirror, that he fairly glowed.

"So . . . you had the child."

He glanced up from his tea. Coinich Mor stood at the end of the table, smiling at him, the bruises on her face a soft pattern that contrived to look more gold than yellow. The smile annoyed him. Somehow, he had been hoping she would snarl and snap at him when she learned of his new conquest.

He nodded.

She returned the nod. "You think you no longer need Coinich Mor?"

"I suppose I could still make use of an able tutor."

"Make use of an able tutor," she parroted. "The girl satisfied you so with her virgin tears and innocent screams? I had thought you more worldly than that."

"The girl is a fountain of Eibhilin power. While it's true the fleshly satisfaction was . . ." He paused to search for the right word. " . . . meager, there was abundant compensation for its lack." He took a deep breath, stretched his muscles, feeling every ripple. "I tingle with the energies she gave up. They pulse in my blood, race through my mind. Can't you feel it, Coinich? Can't you see it in me?"

He stood, imagining how he must look to her with Eibhilin potency leaking through every pore. He laughed and the Wicke laughed with him.

"Oh, I see, Regent Feich. I see more than you imagine." She s.h.i.+fted her shoulders in a manner that brought his attention to her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s-as it was intended to do, of course. "You can yet make use of me, lord," she murmured, and let him see the flame in her strange eyes.

He moved around the table to her side, aware, with every stride, of the power flowing through him. She watched him, smiling her cat-smile, her eyes caressing. Her desire was a drug, a euphoric, and he savored it as he savored all else on this extraordinary morning.

He stopped close enough to her that their bodies just touched, cloth kissing cloth, heat mingling with heat, her spice wrapping him pleasurably. She gazed up into his face, telling him wordlessly that he could have her right there upon the table if he wished and to h.e.l.l with whoever might find them.

He didn't wish. Not at that moment. He was on his way to take the Stone; he was on the verge of reaching out to the Wicke of Hrofceaster in her own medium. He had no time now for Coinich Mor. She was a pleasure that would taste just as sweet later. Nor could he be certain her tainted energies wouldn't corrupt the pure power he now cradled within. But, so that she'd understand her place at Mertuile, he kissed her hard enough to punish her bruised lips.

He was a little surprised to lift his head and find her smile intact. He had hoped for hurt, reproach or anger.

"Don't forget about me, Daimhin Feich, because I will be with you always. To the end."

He laughed in the face of her promise and strode from the room, bemused at how girlish Coinich Mor seemed in her infatuation with him. He was aware that she watched him all the way to the doors, but didn't look back, but he though she might have spit upon the place where he had stood.

He took the private way to Ochanshrine, crossing the Halig-tyne in his boat, a Malcuim regular at the oars. Abbod Ladhar seemed to be nowhere about, and so he entered the Shrine without announcing himself. Nevertheless, his presence was enough to send every Osraed, Aelder and cleirach scurrying from the sanctum. That pleased him, for he knew they sensed his power; perhaps they could even see it.

He took the steps down to the Crystal two at a time, pausing only when it was in reach. He raised his arms as if to embrace the Stone, but did not touch it. No, he would savor this. He drew in a breath, collecting the raw energies that s.h.i.+mmered behind his eyes, and let it all out-breath and energies alike-on a rush of exultation.

The Stone flared, was.h.i.+ng him with light.

Not enough! There must be more. Perhaps he should have practiced with Bloodheart before he came here. He gathered his resources again, reaching deep into his own urgency. He thought of his hours with the Nairnian girl, heating the power within him to a full boil. The light of the Stone grew, steadied, yet . . . where was the heady rush of power? Where the electric potency?

d.a.m.n! What was wrong? He'd channeled more force than this through the puny crystals of his Wickish consorts. Anger swelled beneath the buzz of power.

Good. Coinich Mor had said that anger was good, and Iseabal had admitted that Taminy worked the Stone. Obviously, it was Taminy who kept the doors of its mastery closed to him. That enraged him further.

Yes! He could feel the heat, feel the might building up within him. Now he was ready. Now he could grasp- He glanced up as a disturbance near the doors drew his attention. The Osraed Ladhar, still dressed for sleep, trundled toward him down the sloping aisle of the Shrine, Caime Cadder in his broad wake. He couldn't help but smile at the look of tragic horror on the old man's face. Smiling, he laid his hands on the Stone.

He was enveloped in a veil of golden light and warmth, a veil through which he seemed to hear a voice speaking to him, and laughter. The laughter angered him and he threw his will at the Stone with every last ounce of might, thinking, at once of Taminy. He saw her then, as in a hazy dream. She was kneeling in prayer or meditation while, around her, cl.u.s.tered a group of her besotted waljan.

He recognized some of them-the clumsy, young Osraed Wyth; the beautiful, th.o.r.n.y Desary-ah! Airleas Malcuim and his viperous mother; and the Ren Catahn.

Hatred boiled within him at the sight of the Hillwild, at the look on that dark, bearded face, turned toward Taminy-Osmaer in carnal wors.h.i.+p. He could well imagine the sort of relations.h.i.+p they shared. Had the savage learned to tap that well of Eibhilin power? The thought stunned him and brought a growl of rage to his throat. The growl grew to a snarl as the image began to fade.

Feich tightened his grasp on the Crystal. "No! Not yet! I'm not finished!"

The Stone didn't seem to care. The vision dissolved, the light waned, the warmth died beneath his hands.

No! This was all wrong! Wrong! He should have all but shattered the Crystal with the amount of power he'd consumed. He should have been able to rock the foundations of Ochanshrine and Hrofceaster alike with sheer force. He had done everything Coinich Mor had taught him-he had siphoned the energies, held them, concentrated them, expelled them . . .

Coinich Mor.

He pulled his hands from the Crystal with a curse. d.a.m.n her. She must have done this. Or perhaps he had allowed her to do it by letting her seduce him into that one, unwitting kiss. Wherever the blame lay, she had sucked Iseabal's forces from him with that greedy mouth, or polluted them. It hardly mattered which. It meant a delay-a delay that Daimhin Feich knew he could ill afford.

He glanced up to find Abbod Ladhar watching him, those beady eyes like bits of gla.s.s in the ruddy face. Humiliation warmed Feich's cheeks. To have failed so abjectly before this swollen toad and his pack of superst.i.tious holy men . . .

With an effort he calmed himself. No matter. He would simply have to return to Mertuile and visit the Nairnian girl again-always a.s.suming her store of Eibhilin energy was renewable. Well, of course it was. Her dear Mistress was always with her, she'd said that herself. Just a few more hours and he could return, and this time he would see to it that neither Coinich Mor nor anything else distracted him.

He left Ochanshrine without saying a word to Ladhar or his mewling mendicants and crossed the mouth of the Halig-tyne, urgency building by the second. He was winded by the time he made the long climb from the pier to the main floor of the castle -winded, irate and far from happy to have his cousin and Eadrig Dearg accost him at the bottom of the ornate staircase that led up to the first level of private chambers.

"What is it, Ruadh? I haven't time-"

"I'm afraid you'll have to make time, cousin. There is a sizable contingent of citizens in the outer ward who insist that we produce Airleas and vacate Mertuile. They're demanding that we use our guards to clear the streets of criminals rather than having them chase down every Taminist too stupid to be in hiding."

"How did these citizens come to be in the outer ward?"

Ruadh's mouth twitched. "I take it they bribed a gate-keep. Enterprising of them."

"Why should I care what they demand? I'm in control of Mertuile-"

"It seems, cousin, that over beyond the landward hills a considerable contingent of Claeg, Jura, Graegam and Gilleas kinsmen still sit, waiting for . . . something. I suggest that if we don't do something toward getting Airleas back to Mertuile, our unhappy citizens might prevail upon them to stop waiting."

Feich's jaw tightened. "I told them to disband-to return to their estates."

"They didn't listen. Does that really surprise you?"

"As I said, I don't have time-"

"Daimhin." Ruadh put a hand on his cousin's arm and steel into his voice. "I don't think you understand the situation. The people currently milling beyond the inner curtain have every intention of breaching it and speaking with you face to face. They're rather . . . upset about the demise of their representative government and are demanding its return . . . among other things."

Feich glared from his cousin to the silent Dearg, then pounded his fist on the stair bannister in frustration. "Oh, very well. I'll go up to the wall and speak to them. I'll tell them we've every intention of bringing their d.a.m.ned Malcuim out of hiding."

"And the Hall?" The Dearg spoke for the first time.

"And the Hall . . . ?" echoed Feich sarcastically.

His sarcasm was lost on the hirsute Chieftain. "The Hall hasn't met since Colfre's death. By law, it should have sat down the next day to handle his affairs."

"Colfre's affairs are in my hands."

"Aye. And that's the trouble as far as they're concerned." He jerked his head toward the outer ward.

As if in response, there was a booming report like a clap of thunder and the gates of the inner curtain shook.

Feich spared no more words for the situation, but hurled himself from the stair and across the patterned floor of the entrance hall, taking special pleasure in grinding his boot into the Malcuim crest inlaid there. He crossed the court at a run, climbed to the walk along the top of the inner curtain, and stood trembling, glaring down at the crowd below him.

Ruadh and The Dearg moved to flank him.

"You!" he shouted. "You ungrateful swine! Is this how you treat the Regent of Airleas Malcuim?"

The rabble ceased its press toward the gate below him and jostled for a view of the Regent. He recognized faces now-several prominent merchants and an Eiric or two fronted the crowd.

One of them shouted back at him: "This is how we treat a Regent who has neglected his duties to city and country alike in favor of chasing about after the members of some petty cult."

"This 'petty cult,' sir, has Cyneric Airleas in hand. Should I allow that to continue?"