The Silent Tempest (Book 2)

  Now it was Lyralliantha’s turn to frown, “No, but I am sure she had good cause. I trust her judgement.”

  Kate put a hand on Lyralliantha’s arm, “It’s alright Lyra, those were happy tears.”

  “How many more of those can I expect?” asked Tyrion.

  “I am making a list,” answered Lyralliantha. “I will inform you when I finish considering all the events from her memories.”

  Something about her face seemed off to Tyrion. “Are you—trying to make a joke?”

  Her blue eyes gave away nothing, but he thought he detected a sigh. “My attempts at humor are still largely unsuccessful,” she replied honestly.

  Unable to maintain his annoyance he lifted Lyralliantha’s chin with one hand and kissed her quickly. It was an almost unconscious gesture, but he found himself suddenly self-conscious as he considered Kate’s feelings.

  She put him at ease by following his example and giving Lyralliantha a quick kiss on the cheek followed by a brief hug. Her gaze turned to him then, “Don’t worry. I’m not as fragile as that.”

  Lyralliantha watched their exchange before interjecting, “Perhaps I am jealous after all.”

  “Why?” asked Kate.

  “When the two of you speak I find myself wondering at your meanings. Frequently you answer questions that have not even been asked. It feels as though you both speak a language that I cannot understand, or even hear,” responded the She’Har. She hesitated a moment and then added, “I am also irritated that two other women carry your child while I must w…” Her words stopped abruptly.

  Kate’s eyes flashed a warning at her, but Tyrion hadn’t noticed the unfinished ending. His mind had seized up at ‘two other women’.

  “Wait, what did you mean by…,” he began, but then he realized what she must mean. Layla was in the yard working with the teens. There was only one possible conclusion, although she was moving too much for him to resolve the inner workings of her body at that distance. “Layla?”

  Lyralliantha slapped him once again, but it was milder this time, almost playful.

  He looked at her ruefully. “Was that for Kate too?”

  “That was for me,” replied his former owner. “Kate I understand, but Layla was unnecessary.”

  “That’s fine,” said Kate. “You can count that one for both of us.”

  ***

  The next morning Tyrion was tired and grumpy. He hadn’t slept well. He normally sprawled in his bed, but with women on either side of him, he had felt distinctly confined. Worse he had found himself constantly entertaining fantasies, thoughts that had ruined his ability to rest. He hadn’t acted on any of them, since he really had no clue what sort of etiquette he should follow.

  Kate summed it up for him.

  “Sleepy?” she asked with an evil grin.

  He glared at her, “Leave me alone.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice your restlessness last night,” she continued, her eyes drifting downward, dispelling any doubt about her meaning.

  “I need to go talk to Emma this morning,” he responded, mildly disgusted with her amusement.

  Kate caught him by the arm. It was something he was unused to after his years among the She’Har. He suppressed an almost involuntary anger.

  “About last night, I thought we should go over the rules,” she said, releasing his arm as she noticed the look in his eyes.

  “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Living here has made me strange. I’m not used to some things that were normal back in Colne. Rules about what?”

  “About what kept you from sleeping last night.”

  “Oh,” he said, understanding suddenly.

  “Lyra and I will decide, when and who,” she said without preamble. “This is something new for all of us. Since there are two of us and only one of you, that’s the best compromise we could think of.”

  “Shouldn’t I get a say in this?”

  “No.”

  “I thought maybe...,” Tyrion found himself unable to conclude his sentence.

  “Maybe what?”

  “Well, since you like girls too…”

  Kate began to growl under her breath, “Just because I like you in that regard, doesn’t necessarily mean I want to jump into that sort of thing with someone else, of either gender. Understand?”

  Tyrion frowned.

  She let out a frustrated sigh, “Look, suppose you decided you had a thing for Byovar…”

  “I don’t like men,” he snapped immediately.

  “I do,” she responded. “Shut up, this is an example. Suppose you liked men, and suppose you wanted to bring Byovar back for a romp, would you expect me to join you for that?”

  His cheeks flushed with sudden jealousy at the thought, “No.”

  “Then don’t expect me to do the same with her just because I happen to have a broader past experience than you do. If something like that occurs in the future, it will be on my terms, not yours.”

  A short while later he made a diplomatic exit. Reflecting on what Kate had said, he saw the merit in her words, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been thoroughly trounced. He wasn’t used to losing arguments, but then, over the past fifteen years most of his ‘disagreements’ had been solved using violence. That was no longer an option. I’ve traded one owner for two, he thought wryly.

  Remembering his purpose, he sought out Emma. She and Ryan had been returned late the previous evening. Both of them bore new scars, but otherwise they seemed largely recovered.

  After a brief search with his mind, he found her in her room, seated at a small table. A short walk took him to her door, and she answered it before he could knock. Magesight worked both ways after all.

  “Father,” she said by way of greeting.

  “Mind if I come in?” he asked.

  She stood back, indicating he should sit on the bed since she had only one chair. “Asking to enter a room now—you should be careful or we might forget who is in charge,” she commented.

  He glared at her, irritated by the mockery in her tone, but the smile in her eyes was genuine. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax. “It’s a new world for us,” he explained. “I still expect obedience when I require it, but otherwise I think we should strive for a more civilized atmosphere.” Studying the room he added, “I see you have a table. Most of the others are lucky to have a bed in their rooms.”

  Emma nodded, “Anthony made it for me while I was in the care of the She’Har healers. It’s a bit rough, but I like it.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, gesturing toward the parchment on the tabletop.

  “A letter to my parents. Would you like to read it?”

  He shook his head, “No, I came to ask you about something else.”

  She sat in the small chair beside the table, “I am at your disposal, Father.”

  “In your arena battle the other day, you did something that surprised me,” he began. “The liquid you produced, what was it?”

  Emma sighed. “My father was a soap-maker, as you know, so I grew up around caustic substances,” she said, beginning to dissemble.

  His temper flared, “Don’t lie to me, Emma. What you did is possible, for a mage who understands the inner workings of the material world, but neither of us has that much knowledge. No, you did something different. I didn’t feel your aythar at work, and neither did your opponents.”

  Her shoulders drooped, “You may think me mad.”

  “I’m already a few cards shy of a full deck myself, Emma, just tell me.”

  “Sometimes I hear things, like voices. I ignored it at first, but then things started happening…”

  “Do you hear the great heart beneath us?” he asked, grinning.

  “Like a giant drum,” she said nodding. “I don’t hear it all the time, but when I turn my attention to it, it’s always there.”

  “And the sky?”

  “I try not to,” answered Emma, closing her eyes. “The voice of the wind makes me feel
like I’m losing my mind.”

  “How about this?” he said intently, leaning forward to tap the table in front of her.

  Her expression was questioning, “It’s so small. I haven’t thought to… oh. It does have a voice, doesn’t it?”

  “A small one,” he said. “Everything does, so far as I know. Some of them are harder to hear than others.”

  “Then I’m not crazy,” she said with an audible sound of relief.

  “Just be careful not to show this ability in front of the She’Har,” he cautioned her. “They don’t understand it. It may be something new to them, and the unknown always inspires fear.”

  “It’s the same thing you used when we first came to this place isn’t it? When you made the storm...”

  “They know about me now, but I don’t want them to know about you,” he told her. “Do the others know yet?”

  “Just Ryan. He saw it when we spoke mind to mind,” she replied. “I shouldn’t have used it in the fight, should I?”

  Tyrion shrugged, “What’s done is done. It was such a subtle thing, I don’t think anyone else noticed your unusual method.”

  “Layla said you went berserk after the fight was over…”

  He winced, “I was foolish. I let my emotions overrule my sense, and the wind—well, you must have some idea what it’s like.”

  “How did you stop?” asked Emma.

  “Lyralliantha pulled me back to my senses, which reminds me, I want you to stay close to Ryan,” he said, putting a tone of authority in his voice.

  Emma nodded. “You think he could do the same if something like that happened to me?”

  “He’s the only one who knows. Talk to him and make sure he understands what might happen.”

  “I will,” she said, dipping her head obediently. “Why were you so angry?”

  “I have a temper,” he told her. “You may have noticed.”

  “But you were upset because we were hurt, weren’t you?”

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m tender hearted, Emma,” he warned her. “Even evil men can love their children.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “But I also feel some of the same things. When I was lying there, watching those beasts tearing at Ryan, my heart was filled with a black despair. Despite your best efforts before, I think that was when I truly learned to hate. You aren’t alone, Father.”

  “Alone?”

  “I hate them too,” she responded. “We all do, to some degree.” Emma rose from her chair and crossed over to him. Carefully she put her arms around him.

  Tyrion stiffened, but didn’t return the embrace. “I don’t deserve this, Daughter. Someday you may wind up dead, another tool broken to feed my desire for vengeance.”

  “Hug me,” she insisted.

  Relenting at last, he put his arms around her, though he still felt like a fraud.

  “Our vengeance, Father,” she corrected. “If it comes to that, I will not feel cheated. Spend my life wisely, and I will thank you with my dying breath.”

  He pushed her away, unable to stand the guilt her words were building in his heart. “That sounds like something Brigid would say.”

  Emma agreed, “If she had the tongue for it, she probably would. You will have to watch her carefully. She would throw her life away for just the smallest taste of revenge.”

  “She reminds me of myself.”

  Emma shook her head, “No, she’s even more reckless. If you ever get your chance at revenge, and you have to spend our lives to achieve it, save her until last.”

  Tyrion frowned. He didn’t like the turn their conversation was taking, but he couldn’t deny the truth of it. “Why?”

  “Because she hates them more than all of us. If anyone should see the end of them, it should be her.”

  Chapter 38

  “No more—I swear, you’re trying to kill me,” protested Tyrion.

  “It has been months,” said Lyralliantha. “I missed you.”

  The second sentence was something new. Since her return she had been using more language of the same sort, replete with ‘want’, ‘love’, and ‘miss’. Even her attempts at humor had improved. Tyrion had begun to wonder if her past reticence regarding emotional language had been due mainly to her alien nature, or whether it was simply because he had been a poor mentor.

  Kate had been a far more able teacher than he had.

  The smell of something frying permeated the air, making his stomach try to perform gymnastics. It wanted to get out there, where the meat was, but Lyralliantha’s hand was on his arm, pulling him back toward her. “Stay a few minutes more,” she told him. “Breakfast isn’t ready yet, and I promise I will let you rest.”

  With a sigh, he collapsed back into the bed, “Whatever she is cooking smells really good.”

  “You like food as much as sex,” announced Lyralliantha in a serious tone, as though she were making a new observation. It might have been a joke if Kate had said it, but on second examination, he wasn’t entirely sure which it was with Lyralliantha.

  “Now that we have new cookware and fresh meat, Kate’s been able to work miracles,” he answered.

  “If her secrets were revealed to my people, it would be disaster,” announced Lyralliantha.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “They would stop eating the calmuth, and everyone would begin taking root,” she said with a crooked grin.

  Another joke, he realized, chuckling politely.

  Changing subjects he spoke to the ceiling, “I missed you too.”

  “Good,” she replied, a tone of satisfaction in her voice. “I will be forced to leave you again soon.”

  “What?”

  “The loshti will be ready in another month.”

  “So, just wolf it down and come right back,” he replied flippantly.

  She patted his cheek, “It is not as simple as that.”

  “What will happen then?” he asked before adding, “Wait, no, tell me where this magical fruit is first. I have seen no sign of it.”

  “Why do you wish to know?” she asked.

  “Just curious.”

  “It grows in my bower,” she replied.

  “Really?” he exclaimed. “I went there often while you were away, and I never saw it.”

  “It looks much like the calmuth, but this one hangs directly above my sleeping place. Its color is darker than the ordinary calmuth, but I am not surprised you did not notice it,” she told him.

  Her frank openness about such an important item to the Illeniel Grove surprised him. “No one guards it?”

  “The other groves guard theirs, but the Illeniel need no guards. It is impossible to steal from us.”

  “Why?”

  Lyralliantha closed her lips, she had said too much.

  “You can’t tell an outsider?”

  “I cannot tell you,” she answered.

  Now he was offended, “That’s awfully specific.”

  “Things are complicated where you are concerned, Tyrion,” she said. “You are not an outsider, you are my kianthi, but the elders have made special provisions for you.”

  “They don’t trust me.”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “They trust you completely. The Illeniel will never oppose you. You need not fear them.”

  “They trust me, but they won’t tell me why. They won’t hurt me, but they won’t share their secrets either. None of this makes sense,” he complained.

  “Rather than fret about what we cannot change, we should enjoy what we have,” she told him.

  Tyrion growled in frustration, but after a moment he pushed his irritation aside. “So, what will happen when you eat the fruit? How long will you be gone?”

  “I will be away for a year at least,” she admitted.

  “At least?” he exclaimed. “How badly is this thing going to scramble your brains?”

  “I should recover from the effects of the loshti within a few days. The rest of the year is merely a formality, a waiting p
eriod,” she explained.

  “Waiting for what?”

  “To see if I’ve become unstable. The onslaught of so much knowledge unbalances some. The year is a period of observation, to determine if I am safe to return to the grove.”

  “You said, ‘a year at least’, how long does it take if you are deemed unbalanced?”

  “I will be destroyed if I am found to be damaged,” she admitted. “The dangers of an insane lore-warden are too great to be chanced.”

  “Just refuse it,” he told her. “I’d rather not risk you.”

  Lyralliantha smiled, “Do not be afraid my love, for the Illeniel Grove, this is just a formality. None chosen by the Illeniel elders ever fail.”

  “But they do in other groves?”

  She nodded.

  “What makes the Illeniels so much better at it then?”

  Lyralliantha looked down, “Let us talk of something else.”

  “More of that ‘don’t tell Tyrion our secrets’ crap, right?” he replied sourly. When she didn’t answer after a moment or two of waiting, he let out a long sigh. “Fine, you mentioned breakfast, and that reminded me of something.”

  Her eyes looked the question at him.

  “I saw Koralltis use something he called a ‘stasis-weave’ on one of my children after an arena battle, but I didn’t have long to examine it. Can you create one for me?”

  She gave him a suspicious look, “Why do you need to see something like that?”

  “I want to try and replicate it,” he said honestly.

  “For what purpose?”

  He sighed once more, this time with feigned exasperation, “You really don’t trust me do you?”

  “Of course I do,” she replied with a hint of anger, “but I would like to know your motives. The stasis-weave is complex and experimenting with it could be dangerous.”

  “You don’t think I can do it,” he challenged.

  She rose from the bed, her movements betraying her irritation. “Why must everything be an insult to you? Breakfast is ready, we should go enjoy Kate’s latest labors.”

  His hand fell on her shoulder, “Show me—please.”

  “It would be unwise.”

  “What if I promise to let you watch while I try to reproduce it? I’m sure it will take some time, but I won’t work on it if you aren’t with me,” he said, trying to placate her.