The corner of his lips twitched, although he seemed somewhat chagrined. "No, I haven't, have I?" He moved slightly in her.
"Mmm, wonderful." She smiled at him.
"Yes, it is." He slid full into her and halted. Green looked at him quizzically, wondering if he would be all right. If they would be all right. "I meant what I said. Green."
She took a deep breath. "I know."
He glanced away, then back at her.
Chapter Twelve
They arrived at Tamryn Lane later than Green had intended.
The river, which flowed past the back of the property, deposited them on the bank. Per instructions, Avatar
Jiad left their clothes for them. They were both pleasantly tired.
Jorlan gazed up the sloping land to the big house. Several large-pane mirastone panels glowed in the dark. Flamelights lined the path. Tamryn Lane was more rustic than Tamryn House, but the plantation was still grand—especially by the provincial standards on Hadley Tip.
Green took Jorlan's hand as they walked the path in companionable silence. The warm strength of his clasp 1 lent a certain unaccustomed comfort to her.
"What do you grow here?" he asked her.
"Hukka crop. If it was light out, you would see it all around us and in the fields to the rear." She gestured to the land beyond the estate house.
"Do you think they got into a bad crop. Green? Like what happened to your parents?"
"No." She shook her head. "That was something quite different. We know more about hukka now—how not to consume it after it flowers. My people here live and breathe the crop; they know what strains to plant and when to harvest. It has to be something else. But I appreciate your help, Jorlan."
He smiled softly, inclining his head. Green was so different from other She-Lords. Perhaps that was one reason why he had always been drawn to her. Even as a child, he had recognized it. It was the way she related to him. Not simply as a male—as a person.
"Ah, there's Sweeney waiting at the door for us!" Green's words interrupted his reflection.
The majordoma let them in. Green noticed that Sweeney was not her usual robust self. Her complexion was peaked, her eyes dull. Normally energetic, her movements were listless.
"We've been waiting for you, Marquelle. I can't tell you how happy we are to see you here. I know you'll get to the bottom of this. Just as I told the tenants who wanted to clear out—wait 'til the Marquelle gets here, she'll fix us right up! We're all counting on you, my Lordene."
"Thank you, Sweeney." Green's shoulders dipped imperceptibly. The reaction went unnoticed.
Except by Jorlan.
Gone was her lighthearted spirit of just moments ago, replaced by the heavy responsibility of her title. It was the first time he realized how much rested on her, how many people she was responsible for, how they looked to her for leadership...
He wished he could help relieve some of this burden. His experiences in the Duchene's house must count for something, and he had his own way of solving things. Perhaps he could aid her with just the two of them knowing, just as he had done with the weavermouth.
Only he would be wielding a weapon much different from the meteor-blade.
And yet, so very similar.
"Come into the keeping room, then." Sweeney tried to liven her step, but it was plain she was out of sorts. "You both must be hungry. I'll have cook fix a nice tray for you and bring it in to you myself. Avatar and Miara are awaiting you in there."
"Thank you, Sweeney."
"And may I say congratulations on your fastening? We are all very pleased to have you here as well, Mar-queller."
"Thank you, Sweeney." Jorlan smiled in a charming way at the woman, causing her to become quite flustered. She dipped an odd bow and shakily left the room.
"Another conquest," Green muttered under her breath.
Jorlan chuckled. "You must be so proud to have such a fine name-bearer. Are you not, Marquelle Tamryn?"
He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a very bland look.
The torque was pushing the line. Green clicked her tongue. "And so demurely modest about it, too."
"But of course." He grinned a slow, wicked smile.
Rolling her eyes. Green took his wrist and dragged him behind her into the keeping room.
Jorlan got brief glimpses of the house. Airy rooms, a much lighter style of furniture than Tamryn House, with plenty of paddle fans on the ceilings. This was a much warmer, humid climate than the one he was used The air was thick, and yet he liked it. The rich scent of nightbloomers tinged the air even inside the house. Exotic sounds and textures...
"It took you long enough!" Avatar groused good-naturedly as she sipped a hameeri liquor by the fire.
Miara rose. "Marquelle. Marqueller," the protector-guard greeted them.
Green joined them by the fire, taking a seat with Jorlan on the settee. "What is the status here, Miara?"
"A little over half the household is sick."
It was worse than she had thought. Green bit her lip, sending a worried glance Jorlan's way. She was concerned about the risk of illness for her name-bearer. "I never should have exposed you to this."
"I will be fine." He gently squeezed her hand to reassure her. "And I am here to make sure you will be, as well."
Green squeezed his hand back in a silent show of gratitude for his support. "What is causing the sickness, Miara? Any ideas?"
"Just speculations, Lordene. They have checked the crops to be sure it is nothing there. The hukka is fine. The crop manager wonders if it is not some kind of microbe that keeps being passed again and again amongst the household. No sooner does someone start to feel better when it comes back again. It has weakened the entire staff and most of the tenants. Several of the tenants have already left, despite Sweeney's valiant efforts. Reports coming back are that the illness does not leave with them. Once away from Tamryn Lane, a complete recovery ensues."
Jorlan arched his brow. That told him much. The illness was tied to, or was of the land. He might just be able to help Green more than he had anticipated.
Green sighed at Miara's assessment. "The harvest will soon be upon us; we cannot afford to lose our people. There will be no one to bring in the crop. There has to be an answer for this. What did the local methodologist say?"
Avatar swirled her drink around in the goblet. "Apparently, she is nowhere to be found. Curious, isn't it?" She caught Green's eye.
Green knew what she was implying. Rural OneNation areas such as Hadley Tip had an assigned methodologist to the region. Often they were of a sub-par standard and received their posts either as political favors or through connections.
Still, even a poor methodologist was better than none. And they had to take an oath, promising that they would never abandon their posts. Areas could not be left without replacements; rural people relied heavily upon their expertise in critical situations. The penalty for abandonment was steep.
It was too unusual an occurrence to overlook. Sweeney entered the room with a tray laden with food. Jorlan immediately went over to help the older woman with the heavy burden.
Which flustered her anew.
"Our Jorlan has entranced another one," Avatar spoke low to Green as she discreetly handed her a code-sealed pocket envoy. "This arrived for you via the main house line. It looks serious."
Green glanced down at the small disc and its branded imprint seal. It had been burnt immediately into the small pocket envoy disc, which indicated its confidential status. The Septibunal had sent the dispatch. Only her personal viewer would be able to decipher its coded language. Such messages were rare. While not of an emergency nature, their contents were most often of the direst kind. She did not have a good feeling about this.
Green acknowledged Avatar's concern and slipped the disc onto her waist chain. She would read it later, when she was alone.
Jorlan placed Sweeney's tray on the low table between their chairs, retaking his seat on the settee beside Green.
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Sweeney wiped her damp brow with a cloth. "I beg your pardon, Marquelle, this illness has left me drained."
"I can see it has. Please take a seat, Sweeney."
"But, Marquelle! It isn't proper for a—"
Green waved her to the seat, ending her objections, then reached over the arm of the settee for the carafe of water. "Would you like some, Jorlan?"
"Not right now, thank you."
Green poured her drink. "Well, since we are to get no help from the methodologists, we must become our own investigators. I think we should start by re-creating the Progression of the disease. Who had it first, where did it initially spread to... " She brought the goblet to her lips.
Jorlan, who had been gazing into the fire, swiftly turned his head. His aqua focus fixed on the water. Before she even had a chance to take a sip, his palm came the top of the cup.
Green gave him a quizzical look.
Casually, so as not to alarm the others by his behavior, he bent near her ear. "Do not drink it. It is tainted," he whispered.
She glanced down at the water, then back up at him "Are you sure?" she whispered back.
"Yes."
They stared at each other for a long moment. He offered no explanation, no basis for the conjecture; he simply expected her to trust him without asking why. Should she?
Green placed her goblet back on the table. "This water does not seem right to me, Sweeney. Has the cistern been checked?"
"Yes, my Lordene. There is no cloudiness in the water, nor any odor. Our regular testing methods recognized no harmful organisms."
"This may not be so simple." She met Avatar's knowing look. "The methodologist must have had a molecular analyzer. Where was her station?"
"Up in the Victorias, Marquelle," Avatar answered her.
The Victorias were located just after the next plantation. "Good. Someone can make the trip there and back tonight. In the meantime, no one is to drink the water."
Sweeney paled. "If it is the water, we shall die of thirst out here without a supply. What do we do then, Marquelle? The river water is not drinkable."
"Perhaps we can make a temporary arrangement with one of your neighbors, my Lordene, at least until the problem is solved," Miara suggested.
Miara didn't know that the neighboring plantation was owned by a branch of the D'anberes. In no way could Green make an arrangement with them. "That won't be necessary. Fortunately my foremothers were smart women. There is an alternate water source secretly hidden in the far eastern slope. It is less convenient so the water will have to be ported until we can clear the main cistern."
Relieved, Sweeney nodded and rose tiredly to her feet.
She returned shortly with another goblet and additional hameeri for Green. "Drink this, Marquelle—until we know for certain."
"A rather extravagant substitute." Green sipped the expensive liquor.
"What makes you suspect the water supply, Marquelle?" Miara also poured herself another cup of hameeri.
Green pointedly stared at the goblet of water she had placed back on the table. "I never disregard what is right next to me—no matter how innocent it appears."
Out of the corner of his eye, Jorlan keenly watched her. His name-giver was too clever by half.
It was indeed the cistern.
The water had been laced with a toxic biocrobe, specifically designed to cause vague yet lingering symptoms. Someone had purposely sabotaged their water supply. And the toxins were from a very sophisticated source.
A source only found in Capitol Town.
Biocrobes were used for targeted purposes—usually they were designed to feed on other biocrobes or on naturally occurring Forus organisms that were dangerous to humans. In terms of illness, they were administered only as a cure—never as a cause.
There was worse news.
Green had read the pocket envoy. The Septibunal was calling her and Jorlan back to Capitol Town for a special hearing regarding her fastening. Jorlan's Ritual of Proof had been brought into question "with substantial evidence to the contrary." The missive went on to further state that such a transgression, if proven accurate would not be taken lightly by the Septibunal.
Green knew exactly how to interpret that weighty pronouncement.
It meant that their fastening could be dissolved and Jorlan stripped of all his titles and his rank in society. He would be without protection. In addition, there would be a huge forfeiture penalty from both the House of Tamryn and the House of Reynard for their part in conspiring in perjury to the Septibunal. Jorlan himself might very well be part of that forfeiture.
They could all be ruined.
Since she had forgone the Ritual of Proof, only she and Jorlan knew the truth. Her word would be all she had on the floor of the chamber.
All she had against whatever evidence they had to the contrary.
There was only one person who could be behind this. Claudine.
Green slammed her palm against the wall of the bathing chamber. It was always Claudine! She never stopped and she was becoming bolder and bolder. If Jorlan hadn't determined that the water was tainted, she might have lost many of her tenants, which in turn would have left most of the hukka crop unharvested. There was an extremely short window for optimum harvesting of hukka—right before it flowered and became toxic.
She was already heavily extended. Jorlan's bed price had almost drained her coffers. Anya Reynard was hurting as well, she had needed Green's money to pay back Claudine. She-Count D'anbere was very aware of their situation—she had caused it. Claudine also knew the loss of this crop would be devastating!
Green suspected that Claudine had arranged for her to leave Capitol Town by tainting the water supply here at Tamryn Lane. While Green was away from Town, she had used the opportunity to stir up the Septibunal.
The woman worked fast, she'd give her that.
Green glanced at the missive again.
Due to the grave nature of your sojourn to Tamryn Lane, the Septibunal is allowing you to complete your business there at which point you must return immediately. There is a rumor you are with child.
Duchene Hawke
Rumor? What rumor? Green closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Duchene Hawke was subtly giving her a message without violating her position. Green would remember her kindness. Duchene Hawke was telling her not to return until she had a well-laid defense in order.
And that defense included a child from Jorlan.
Preferably an heir.
It would be much harder for the Septibunal to revoke their vows once an heir had been added to the Tamryn roll. Such an heir would ensure a next-in-line for their houses. Even if Claudine's scheme ruined them, if her heir was already born, the Septibunal would consider her birthright as separate and inviolate.
For the Duchene even to hint at this, the evidence they had must be entirely condemning.
Green glanced into the room, seeing Jorlan; he was fast asleep in the middle of the bed. He was tired. It had been a long day fraught with so many emotional pulls. Their ride down the river on the jinto leaf, their unorthodox lovemaking, and the concern over this troubling illness.
Jorlan. He was still not safe from Claudine! Green passed a hand over her eyes. Their estates were not safe.
She must protect them; it was her responsibility both to her foremothers and to all the people who depended on her to survive. She had to produce an heir—and soon! Even if she lost her holdings they would fall to her heir. A Tamryn.
Green sighed, knowing what she must do. Their relationship was just beginning to blossom—this would damage it, she was sure. Jorlan would feel betrayed and forced and utterly controlled.
But there was nothing to be done. She had to act now. She knew that with every fiber of her being. He would just have to come to terms with it. She needed to discover why he claimed he could withhold his seed. After what she had seen of his ways, she was not so sure he had spoken out of ignorance. Any man who could wield two meteor-blades at once with
the grace of a Gle Kiang-ten master just might know what he was talking about.
Resolved, yet saddened, Green lowered the flamelight and slid into bed next to him.
He immediately rolled toward her, wrapping her in his arms in his sleep.
"Jorlan," she whispered, her lips pressed his forehead.
"Mmm." He cuddled his face into her throat and went on sleeping. She smiled faintly. He was a contradiction of fire and gentle rain. Her fingers sifted through his clean hair—still spicily fragrant from his recent bath. The vigorous strands settled softly into place. Even in the darkened room she could see the black, glistening sheen of it.
His warm breath teased her skin, rhythmic puffs that were perfectly relaxing.
Only she could not relax.
Not now.
Too much depended on how she combated Claudine's wiles. There was so much at risk, including her Jorlan.
She glanced down, watching him as he slept, peacefully unaware of all the currents around him. Currents that had the potential to drown the Tamryns and the Reynards.
" Jorlan... ?" she spoke low in his ear.
His lashes flickered against her neck as he clung to his sleep.
Her lips pressed against his forehead again. Green wanted to awaken him gently. She wanted his guard to be down.
Or as down as she was likely to get it. She pressed up against him.
He took a few sleepy nibbles at her throat in an attempt to get playful before his breathing fell to an even rhythm once again.
She whispered in his ear. "Wake up, wilding, I need to speak with you... "
Jorlan's lashes flickered again. His mouth opened on her throat and softly laved the tender spot.
Green smiled. He obviously had not understood the word "speak." In his sleep-haze, he thought she had something quite different in mind. "No, sweet dragon. I need to ask you something."
"Hmm?" He didn't remove his mouth, which now moved up her neck and was lightly sucking on her lobe.
"What did you mean when you said you will not give me an heir? Males cannot prevent that."
He stopped nibbling. She could feel his breath hot on her skin as he stilled and tried to awaken.