A Distant Tomorrow Page 4

  “Indeed,” Kaliq replied. “In the five years since the Winter War,” he began, “Gaius Prospero has worked diligently to regain his popularity among the people, and his influence among the guilds, and magnates. It has cost him a great deal of gold, I would imagine. But then, he stole a great deal from the Outlands. The City is growing, and expanding. For lack of conflict the Mercenaries and the Crusader Knights sit idly in their respective quarters. The wealthy continue to live comfortably, the wiser among them discreetly, while the foolish waste their considerable resources in vulgar and conspicuous consumption and the poor barely subsist.

  “Gaius Prospero has managed to avoid an all-out famine so far. He feeds the people with grain from his own granaries and diverts them with lavish entertainments. He does what he must to keep order, and to further his own ambitions.”

  “I have heard that the Midlands is now expanding into the territory of the Forest Lords,” Lara said.

  “Aye, ’tis true,” Ilona answered her daughter. “It was subtle at first. A few trees here and a few there as the Midlands folk sought to cultivate new fields to replace the worn and tired soil of their lands. Without these new fields they cannot feed the City. If this happens, anarchy is bound to erupt. People will tolerate much, but starvation is a cruel spur to those already discontented.”

  “They have also expanded into the edges of our desert realm where the soil is still able to sustain some small growth,” Kaliq told his listeners. “But it is difficult for them, for they must irrigate the land there, and that means water from the Forest Lords.”

  “And they have cooperated?” Lara was surprised.

  “Gaius Prospero seems to have some hold over them that he did not previously have,” Ilona said.

  “He has learned, then, of my grandmother’s curse upon the Forest Lords,” Lara reasoned. “That has to be it, for Enda would not give either an inch of forest soil or his water unless he felt that the illusion the Forest Lords built up was threatened. To reveal to Hetar that their bloodlines are no longer pure is tantamount to their destruction. What of the Forest Faeries, Mother? Are you not also threatened by this incursion into the forest?”

  “We live in the deepest part of the wood, Lara,” her mother said. “And we live on another plane of existence from the mortals of Hetar. You could walk through our palaces and never know you were there, for you would not see them. Well, perhaps you might, but then you are faerie. But if one day the forest that sustains us is taken away we, like so many others in the magic realms, will be refugees. Pray the Celestial Actuary it never comes to that,” Ilona said.

  “The continuance of the status quo within Hetar depends on the people being content,” Kaliq said. “This means they must be fed, and kept busy. Without work there is no coin to purchase even the cheapest goods. This affects not just the poor but the rich as well, for their wealth comes from the goods and services they make, manage and provide. And there are more without than with,” Kaliq noted. “Unless something is done they will rise up against their masters. The Master of the Merchants, Gaius Prospero, lobbies hard to be made emperor. He says that times are changing, and Hetar must change with the times. That an emperor will renew Hetar, and that he can solve its problems, but only if he is emperor, and fully in charge. Hetar must expand its borders to avoid chaos, and while the City has eaten into the borders of two of its own provinces, the most logical place for Hetar to come is into the Outlands with its vast tracts of land.”

  “We will fight them!” Rendor declared.

  “They are many, and your clan families few,” Kaliq said pragmatically. “They will overcome you with the might of their Mercenary Guild and Crusader Knights. They will enslave your peoples, and take all you possess for themselves. Those of us who are of the magical realm cannot allow that to happen. A great war would bring more problems than it would solve, for all of us, both magic and mortal. We helped you in the Winter War, and now we will help you before another war begins. But we cannot protect you forever,” he said quietly. “Lara came to you for a purpose. To alert you to the danger. To show you that the magic world was not to be feared so we might help you when this time came,” Kaliq continued. “But it is not enough that we do so. Lara must now leave you so that she may follow the destiny that will one day bring peace to all of Hetar.”

  “But how can that happen,” Rendor asked, “if Hetar has too many people, and not enough lands, and we have lands but too few people? If we were willing to share some of our lands with Hetar they would probably accept, and then seek to take more and more until they had it all. They do not respect us, my lord prince. They call us barbarians although they surely know better, especially after the Winter War. They seek to wipe all vestiges of our clan families from history, leaving only themselves.”

  Kaliq smiled. “You are wise to understand that, Rendor of the Felan, head of the Outlands High Council.”

  “Then how can you help us?” Rendor persisted.

  “We will place magical barriers about the Outlands so that none with wicked intentions may pass through those gates and into your lands.”

  Rendor nodded. “And what are we to do then?”

  “You will live your lives as you always have, in peace, going about your daily business,” Kaliq said.

  “And Lara? Where will she go, and will she come back to us?” Rendor asked.

  “Do not ask him questions he cannot or will not answer,” Lara chuckled. “He will speak to you in riddles as he does to me when I inquire of him that which he does not wish to impart. Such answers will only hurt your head as they do mine. I am content to go, Rendor, knowing that my beloved Outlands will be safe in my absence. I will not leave you forever. I will be back. After all, my children are Outlanders.”

  “I think we have concluded our business here,” Kaliq said to those about the board. “Ilona, have you anything you wish to say before we take our leave of Lara and her friends?”

  “Rendor, because you now stand in Vartan’s place, and you, Liam, because you will care for my grandchildren, I give you permission to call my name should you need me. This is my gift to you, and a privilege allowed few, especially mortals.”

  The two Outlander lords bowed low to the faerie queen and thanked her for her generosity.

  Ilona then embraced her daughter. “I will see you before you leave Camdene, for I intend that my grandchildren know me well before you go that I may help to comfort them when you are gone. Is your Noss competent to care for Dillon and Anoush? I seem to recall she was a girl afraid of her own shadow.”

  Lara smiled, and stroked her mother’s delicate cheek. “She is grown now, the parent of one son, and another soon to come. Her marriage has given her confidence, Mother. My son and daughter will be safe with her, and loved, too. Having to leave them is what I feared when I gave Vartan children, but I always thought their father would be here with them.” She sighed. “But they will have you, Bera, Liam, Noss and a whole clan of Fiacre who will watch over them, for they are Vartan’s offspring.”

  “Beware Bera,” Ilona advised.

  “Why?” Lara wanted to know. “She has always been good to me, and she adores Dillon and Anoush.”

  “The death of her sons, the manner in which each died, remains with her, and always will. She cannot forgive Adon for his murder of Vartan, Lara. But neither can she forget that you slew Adon. She will appear to recover eventually, but she will never quite be the same again. What has happened to her has brought a madness into her soul. It lies beneath the surface of her sanity. She will raise Cam to be every bit as heroic as Vartan, but there is evil in that child’s blood that cannot be extinguished. One day he will have to be slain, too, for the sake of the Fiacre. It would have been better if he had never been born,” Ilona declared vehemently.

  “Then teach my children to be wary of him,” Lara said.

  Ilona nodded. “I must go. I will be back before you leave here.”

  The two women embraced, and the men with them marveled that they
looked more like sisters than mother and daughter, such was the faerie blood. There was a small thunderclap, and Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, with a wave of her hand disappeared into her cloud of purple haze.

  Lara now turned to Kaliq and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, my dear friend, for coming on this day of days. Will I see you again?”

  “If it pleases you,” he told her.

  “Do you still love me, Kaliq?” she asked him, curious.

  “I will always love you, Lara, daughter of Swiftsword,” he told her. And then he was gone, seeming to evaporate into the very shadows that had suddenly arisen to surround him.

  Lara was now left with but two companions. She turned to them saying, “I am tired, and will find my bed. Rendor, pray do not leave Camdene until we have spoken in private again.” Then she turned away from them and was gone from the hall.

  Rendor and Liam now found seats by the hall fire that they might speak privily. A servant appeared, bringing them cups of wine, and was then gone again.

  “I am almost frightened by what has transpired here this night,” Liam said. “It would appear great changes are coming to all of us. What part we are to play in those changes I cannot tell.” He sighed. “I have never wanted to lead the Fiacre, I should have been content being Vartan’s cousin and friend, Noss’s husband, and father to my children.”

  “The elders would not have chosen you had they not felt you were the right man,” Rendor said. “Remember that once before they asked you.”

  “They asked because my father had been lord of this family after Vartan’s father died,” Liam answered him. “It was a matter of pure courtesy. They knew Vartan was the man who should lead us, and so did I.”

  “And yet they have chosen you now,” Rendor noted. “I think, Liam, that you underestimate yourself and your abilities. As for the great changes to come, and what should be done, I believe we should follow the Shadow Prince’s advice. We will live as we have always lived.”

  “Do you think that magic can really protect us from Hetar’s greed?” Liam said.

  “I do,” Rendor replied. “Prince Kaliq would not have said it otherwise.” Of course, Kaliq had also said magic could not protect them forever. But perhaps it would serve long enough for Lara to find the destiny that would save them all from disaster. He emptied his cup. “It has been a long day, my friend,” he said to Liam. “I think I shall find my bed now.”

  Liam stood up. “I had best be getting home,” he responded. “Noss is near her time, and she likes me with her.”

  In her bedchamber behind the hall Lara lay sleepless. Vartan was gone. Every vestige of him was gone, burned in the fire that freed his soul from his body. He would be remembered in the oral history of the Outlands by the Devyn bards who were already singing of him. Once his generation had departed this world there would be few remaining who would remember the man, but they would know the legend of Vartan, Lord of the Fiacre. She wept silently again in the darkness of the night for the man who had been her mate. He had been a good man, a great leader. He had made a safe haven for her among the Fiacre. She was angry that fate dictated his demise, and yet had he lived, he would have resisted her going. And had he lived, would she even have heeded the calling of the voice within her? Ilona might claim that her daughter was not responsible for Vartan’s death, but Lara was not at all certain of that. She was beginning to realize that this destiny she had put from her mind these last five years was bigger than even she could imagine. And she was still not certain of what exactly it was. She turned onto her side, punching at her pillows, and tried to sleep.

  She had the summer ahead to consider, long days of warm sun and gentle breezes to spend with her children. Days in which she would prepare Dillon for life without either of his parents. She most regretted that her daughter was so young. Anoush would not really remember either her mother or her father, and that was a tragedy. But Dillon could tell his little sister of their parents as long as he could remember them. Vartan’s face was already receding from her. Would her son’s memory be any better? And what of Cam, Adon’s son? They had never been friends to begin with, but Bera would surely try to foster a relationship between the cousins. Lara was not certain what to do about that. It seemed sad to deny Cam his place among them, but had not her own mother warned that Cam would be a troublesome child, and a dangerous man?

  AT SUNRISE, Lara awoke surprised, for she had not remembered falling asleep the night before. Stretching she considered the day ahead. Rendor would want to leave today, and she must speak with him before he did. And she, Noss and Liam must decide the time for the new Lord of the Fiacre to move into the lord’s house. It should be soon, for until Liam had made the house his there would be those who would always consider it Vartan’s house — such was the nature of the Fiacre. She sat up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. First she wanted a bath. Slipping a house robe over her nakedness she slipped through a small door that led outside to a pergola thick with flowering vines that shaded the path to the bathhouse.

  In the hall the servants were already at their daily tasks. With the old lord buried and gone, they returned to their comfortable routine. As they worked they gossiped with one another for they had heard that the new lord would be moving into the house shortly. Was it really true? When? But no one knew, and then Rendor, the lord of the Felan, and new high council leader was coming to the high board, and needed to be fed. Lara joined him shortly afterwards, fresh from her ablutions.

  “You look tired,” Rendor noted as she sat down next to him.

  “I am,” Lara admitted. “I don’t think I have slept well since Vartan’s death.”

  “But now you have the summer ahead with your children,” he remarked.

  “I will come to you before the Gathering,” Lara told him. “Will you escort me to King Archeron’s palace?”

  “Of course,” he said, “but what of the Fiacre?”

  “When the day comes I will leave quietly. It is always best to leave quietly,” Lara said softly. “I will use my magic to come to you. But I would ride to King Archeron’s palace as we once did when Vartan first met him.”

  “You have entrusted me with a great responsibility, Lara,” he said changing the subject.

  “You were the perfect choice, Rendor. You have dignity and you have presence, which will be crucial in dealing with Hetar. First impressions are important with them. If you show them a strong leader they will respect you if for no other reason than the way you appear to them. But you are also wise, and will not be easily fooled by them. If they manage to get through the magic barriers that the Shadow Princes erect around the Outlands, be wary, and put off dealing with them as long as you can. Do not allow them to press you into any quick decisions, my friend. Hetarians are crafty folk,” she concluded with a small smile. “Do not allow their charm and exquisite manners to lull you in a false sense of security. They are not to be trusted.”

  “If the magic barrier is strong, will they be able to get through?” Rendor wondered.

  “The princes said those with no evil intent will pass between the two lands easily. Those who wish to treat with you first will be harmless. And it is better that Hetar not know of the magic that will protect the Outlands from them — at least not right away,” she chuckled. “What the princes have done is to protect the Outlands from a military attack, Rendor. But there are different kinds of invasion. You must beware of a more subtle incursion by Hetar.”

  “You have given me much to consider,” Rendor said.

  “You will have to tell each clan lord before they leave today of the prince’s gift to the Outlands so they will not be afraid. And so that Roan may not frighten them into a war that need not be fought at all,” Lara advised.

  Rendor chuckled. “Roan would be most distressed to learn how well you know him.”

  “Then perhaps it is better we not tell him,” Lara replied with a small smile.

  “If you had not this destiny of yours to follow I think yo
u would have made the Fiacre an excellent clan leader, Lara,” Rendor told her. “You are truly an amazing woman, and it is the Fiacre’s loss that you must leave them.”

  “I have given the Fiacre my counsel for five years now, and I have given them Vartan’s son and daughter. I cannot imagine being here without Vartan. But one day I will return, for this is where I mean to live out my days, Rendor. Keep the Outlands safe for me.”

  “I will try,” he responded, and then he arose. “I must go now. The journey home will not be nearly as easy as it was coming here,” he grinned at her.

  “I suppose I could transport you all back to your lands,” Lara said thoughtfully.

  He laughed. “You would frighten those of my clan who came to pay Vartan homage, and are not used to your magic. No. We will ride home.” He took her hand in his, and putting it first to his heart, then kissed it, bowing to her as he did so. “Farewell, Lara. Rahil and I will look forward to your coming in early autumn.”

  “I will send word before I come,” she promised him as she walked outside to see him off. And then she went to each of the clan lords, bidding them and their clan people farewell, and thanking them for coming to honor Vartan’s life and last journey. Bowing to each group she said the same words. “I appreciate the homage you offered my husband as he departed for the realm of the Celestial Actuary.” She stood as each group departed. Finally, Camdene was as it should be on a midsummer morning. The streets were quiet. The men in the fields tended to the crops and the clan’s herds of cattle. The women went about the business of childcare, housework and gardening. Lara returned to the hall to find Bera awaiting her.

  “We must talk,” her mother-in-law said calmly. But the calm surrounding Bera was so fragile that Lara could almost see it.

  “Come, and sit,” Lara invited the older woman. “Have you eaten?” She brought Bera to the high board, and signaled to a servant to bring food.

  “Everything tastes like sawdust now,” Bera remarked.