Chapter 1
The
knife quivered in the tree trunk beside Windrover's head. He'd felt it go by,
heard it hit and knew better than to move. She would be changing position and
have another blade ready. If thrown, it wouldn't miss. As they said in Terran
fiction, "The first shot is a warning."
"It's
me, Feldspar." He should have known better than to pop in on his foster
niece unannounced, but teleporting to a further spot and walking in wasn't as
impressive. Planetsinger said vanity would be the death of him. At least
sometimes she said that. Other times she said it would be his weight.
"Well,
so it is. Okay Unc, you have my permission to faint." Feldspar's soft
contralto came from his right. He'd been looking left. Yes, she was good.
"I
wasn't scared."
"Liar.
You also have my permission to move."
Windrover
turned to face her. The grin was familiar but when she had left Capitol a year
earlier she'd worn her woman's body like a nervous colt. Now she stood tall and
confident, meeting his gaze with level eyes, deep and smouldering with a barely
suppressed passion for life. It was a shame they had a familial relationship.
He'd heard stories. Mind you, they weren't actually related. "You've
become quite the beauty. Come here and give your old uncle a kiss."
She
didn't walk. Rather, she flowed. Her aura was stronger than he remembered. She
got closer, and Windrover shivered. Those familiar dark eyes held a glint he
didn't like. She treated him to a half-smile. "I don't want to kiss
you." She pulled the knife from the tree. It could have been buried in
butter rather than oak for all the effort it took. "Skythane's right about
you. Don't worry, he's not here right now." Her smile had gained her
mother's sardonic edge... if you could call that a "gain".
"I
wasn't worried."
"Liar.
Again. As usual."
"It's
just I don't approve of his approach to justice and don't want to get into that
old argument today."
Feldspar
wiped sap off her knife. "You're right. We should discuss something else.
So, what's up, Unc?"
"Can't
I visit my favourite foster-niece without having an ulterior motive?"
"No."
She didn't meet his eyes, instead examining the knife as if looking for spots
she'd missed. "You can't breathe without an ulterior motive, and you're
not side tracking me into any of your disarming chat. If all you'd wanted to
say was 'hi', you could have written. But I haven't heard from you since I left
Capitol."
"I've
been busy." He should have kept in touch. After all, she was the
Prophesied and even without a seer's talent, he knew she'd play a pivotal role
in the planet's future. He just hadn't expected it to happen so soon, hadn't
thought he would need her until she was older. But things hadn't gone as
scheduled. "How can your old uncle make amends?" he asked.
"He
can't... you're not here as my uncle, Windrover. You're here as a manipulative
politico presuming on a personal relationship."
"I'm
not! I'm here on Adepts Five business... recruiting for a quest."
Trepidation! He hadn't meant to broach that subject so soon. Damn Skythane.
Since he and Feldspar had taken up with each other Feldspar had lost her
innocence.
"Yeah,
everyone knows that." Apparently satisfied with the state of the blade,
Feldspar slipped her knife into its sheath. Still level, and now cold, her eyes
met his.
"They
can't!"
"No,
they don't... not everyone. Just teasing, uncle dear. Mind you, rumour has
something serious is shaking Diluvia and it's not exactly like I'm
isolated." She turned her back on him and started to walk away. His eyes
were drawn to her tight leather breeches... such sweet cheeks, each would be a
perfect handful.
She
slowed, stopped and turned to face him again. She sighed. It did marvellous
things to the fabric covering her breasts. A sad shake of her head. "Most
people treat me like I'm an adult in more than body. I suppose I should know
better than to expect the same from you." She unclipped her com-reader
from her belt. "I told Skythane to make himself scarce because I expected
you to show, and he's less forgiving than me." She pressed three pads and
tossed the com-reader to him. "As you can see, Planetsinger contacted me
yesterday with the news. Encrypted, of course."
Windrover
caught the reader but didn't bother looking at its screen. "I'm surprised
she didn't just use mind-touch."
Feldspar
grinned. It was the old grin, hers as opposed to her mother's sneer. "I'm
sure she would have, if she could. I've been working on my shields."
"Can
you teach me?" Windrover hadn't known anyone could elude Planetsinger's
mental reach for long. Other than behind the ancient shields which kept the
Academy sacrosanct, he certainly never'd been able to hide from his on-and-off
companion.
"I'll
tell her you were asking. I'm sure she'll want to know why. By the Unknown,
Unc, I've missed you and your scheming belly! Whatever people say about you, no
one can call you dull--tiresome maybe, but never dull--care to join me for
dinner? There's an excellent inn in the village. They make the best chocolate
cake on Diluvia."
"You're
forgiving me?"
"Like
Planetsinger says, you are what you are."
"I
shouldn't." The cake sounded good but he was on a diet. Planetsinger
claimed to be as tired of him cheating on his diet as she was of him dallying
with impressionable young women. "How powerful are your shields?"
"Not
strong enough to include someone of your girth, but I can make the cake look
like something more wholesome."
"Your
illusions are that good now?" If so, and with her improved mind defences,
maybe having her lead this quest might not be as hopeless as he'd feared.
Certain people would be less than pleased to learn about Feldspar's developing
power, assuming he told them.
"Your
confidence in me is underwhelming. My illusions have been that good since I was
six. I've always known neither you nor my equally loving mother deserves
anything resembling the truth."
Windrover
didn't like being lumped with Bethina, or having to consider Feldspar had never
been as innocent as he'd thought. Had she been deceiving him all her life or
was she lying now? Then again, did it matter? She'd put him off balance and
there weren't many who could do that. Choosing this girl... this woman... to
lead the most critical quest since the creation of Diluvia might not be as big
a mistake as he'd feared when the cursed fairy stuck its oar in and cast a
decisive vote in her favour.
The
roast hare had been exquisite, the best ever. Windrover wanted another.
"No."
Feldspar shook her head. "I promised you dessert but other than that
you've had more than enough."
She
sounded all too much like Planetsinger. And he hadn't voiced his desire.
"Are you developing a talent for mind-reading as well?"
"No,
as the dwarves say, I'm only human. But I know you and your appetites,
Unc--like anyone doesn't. You're getting cake, as promised, you'll have to be
content with that."
He
could sneak back later for another hare, and maybe the luscious blonde serving
wench who'd been giving him the eye. Women of all races were attracted to
power. He watched his foster niece walk to the counter to get his treat. Only
human? Was she? He hadn't believed it before, but speculation was Bethina broke
the Compact by coercing some elf to father Feldspar, her much anticipated fifth
child. Males were attracted to power too--what else would explain his
fascination with Planetsinger after all these years?
And
like her or not, Bethina was powerful. Of course, anyone who'd seen Feldspar
with Maramatma on one of his rare visits knew he was indeed the girl's father;
her sculpted features were his, as were the deceptively gentle brown eyes. And
if Feldspar's complexion was caramel rather than blue-black, which was
understandable given that Bethina was an icy blonde. No, it was the
"only" part Windrover questioned. Feldspar was the Prophesied, and he
was beginning to think her well-noted failure to live up to her billing just
might be the ultimate proof of her abilities.
Feldspar
came back to the table with what looked disgustingly like an oversized bowl of
gruel.
"That's
cake?" Even for gruel, it was disgusting.
"I
keep my promises." Feldspar put the bowl down, picked up a knife and
sliced the bowl in half. "There you go."
"No,
this doesn't look the least bit suspicious." If this were indeed gruel, it
would be all over the table. Everyone in the inn was smiling. If he didn't go
along with the gag he'd look foolish. If he did, he'd look foolish and have
satisfied his appetite for sweets, presuming Feldspar was telling him the truth
about the cake. He picked up his half-bowl with both hands and took a bite out
of the centre. Feldspar was right--the cake lived up to the hare. This inn was
a true find.
But
Planetsinger would find out he'd cheated. So what? He was tiring of her
incessant demands he change. Windrover took another look at the robust wench
behind the counter. More quality--those breasts begged to be fondled. She met
his eyes, licked her lips and smiled. That decided it--might as well make this
a clean break from the old nag.
"So,
Mistral Brown Badger, you wish to take her away from me."
For
all his bulk, Windrover could sure jump. Feldspar had seen Skythane coming, but
from the smudge of cake on his face and the disturbed look in his eyes, Windrover
hadn't. He'd always complained Skythane didn't show him the respect due the elf
on Adepts Five. But why would he do any such thing? Skythane's mind-powers were
greater than Windrover's, by far; if he'd wanted to be the elf Adept, he would
be.
But
Skythane had no interest in being tied to that duty, especially as it would put
him in close contact with Bethina. Yes, that would be very uncomfortable, to be
so close. Feldspar smiled at the thought. For some reason, her smile seemed to
increase Windrover's discomfort. Maybe he thought she'd enjoy seeing the two of
them fight... over her. She winked at her foster-uncle. Skythane had been
teasing, but Windrover's sense of humour had gone missing. Mind you, Skythane
had addressed him by his proper name rather than the more respectful
appellation given to adepts. That was a declaration of at least equal status
and therefore could be considered a challenge, should Windrover so choose.
"Cirrus
Gold Kestrel." Windrover was on his feet. Feldspar could see a tremble in
his stance but he was obviously prepared to do battle.
She
couldn't let that happen. "Behave yourself, Windrover. Skythane wasn't
serious."
Four
surprised and annoyed eyes were suddenly on her rather than glaring at each
other. That overweening prick! Skythane hadn't been joking. That meant he
considered Feldspar a possession you would fight over rather than a person--no
other interpretation was possible. Feldspar tried to keep anger from showing in
her voice. "I'm leaving you no matter what, Skythane."
"You're
leaving? Leaving me?" As if to say no one could possibly break off with a
gold elf, especially him. One most certainly could!
"Nothing
personal, but I think I need a period of chastity in order to grow." From
their faces, neither elf understood. Until just now, Feldspar hadn't either.
"I'm beginning to think you were drawn to me simply because I'm the
Prophesied." They still didn't get it. Feldspar suspected her dilemma was
similar to one common in Terran fiction when a rich person didn't know if a
lover was attracted to them or to their money. But you could lose Terran money
or give it away, and as long as she lived, she'd be the Prophesied.
"Who
cares why we're drawn to you?" The rolls of Windrover's face bunched into
puzzled wrinkles.
Skythane
nodded agreement. Then a look of realisation appeared on his face as if, at
last, he realised his error. Too late, prick-brain. "You know there's more
to it than that, love."
"Oh,
I most certainly do." Feldspar put a challenge into her eyes--back off, or
else.
"So,
Windrover, could you perhaps enlighten me as to the purpose of this
quest?" Skythane asked. Good, he didn't want to make their private life
public either. Feldspar breathed an unvoiced sigh of relief and turned her
attention to Windrover. How much of his secret would he tell?
"Quest?
What quest? Okay, so there is one, but I am ever so sorry, Skythane--even if
that much has become known, Adepts Five would be in agreement that I shouldn't
disclose anything more."
Adepts
Five wouldn't agree on whether it was day or night if the sun was beating on
their addled heads. If she didn't get this moving they could be here for hours.
"Could the mysterious quest be anything to do with the theft of the
Adornments of Glory?"
"Damn
Planetsinger! How dare she?"
"She
didn't. The quest is common knowledge and rumours of the theft were on the backbone
an hour before you arrived," Feldspar said, patting her com-reader and
smiling. "Anyone could put the two together."
"On
the backbone? The whole planet knows? I have to return to Capitol
immediately." Windrover jumped up from the table, reaching for Feldspar.
She
slapped his hand. "Don't grab. You could lose a hand. I'll be with you in
a moment." She stood and faced Skythane. "I hope you won't take this
split too personally."
"Of
course not. I understand completely." From his tone he didn't understand
it at all.
Feldspar
took the tall blonde elf into her arms, tilting her head slightly to be kissed.
"Liar. That's okay. In time we'll forgive each other." Their lips
met. Feldspar felt her own shudder meet Skythane's as the familiar body pressed
closer. He might be a stupid prick, but he had a lively one. She was going to
miss that big fellow more than she dared admit, even to herself.
Skythane
broke it off and pulled his head back. "I will accompany you on your quest
if you ask."
"I'm
sorry, no." Feldspar stopped and looked at Windrover, who was looking at
her. He'd said the same words she had, at the same time. She nodded her head
slightly, deferring to him. She hadn't any idea what she'd been going to say
and hoped he had a better reason than wanting distance.
"I'm
sorry, Skythane, but one thing Adepts Five actually did agree on was that if
she insisted on taking you, we'd find someone else."
"I'm
that unpopular?"
"Nothing
to do with you. The rules for quests forbid long-term bedmates from being in
the same party. Conflict of interest and all that. I thought you'd know."
"I
forgot." Skythane was as unconvincing a liar as Windrover. Always had
been, now Feldspar thought of it. It had never been about her, Feldspar, and
always about her, the Prophesied. And a few bed-tricks... or rather, more than a
few.