* * *
"Brother, your daughter is better than you," Jeral informed Griffin and folded away.
"My heir is immortal again?" Wylend wanted to make sure and attempted to lift Wyatt from Amara's arms. She allowed it. Wylend checked the baby over himself, grunting with satisfaction after a few moments.
Belen came to stand before Griffin. "I am still passing judgment upon you," he informed Griffin. "From this time forward, you will be unable to
Look
into Wyatt's future. You are blinded to his life path. I do this in retribution for your treatment of Lissa and Roff. As for Toff, you must find a way to compensate him. I will be watching and waiting to make sure this is accomplished. If you have not discovered it for yourself, yet, know now that your daughter will sacrifice herself before she will sacrifice any other. But you should know that about her already. As any father should." Belen folded away.
* * *
"Lissa, where are we?" Roff hadn't ever been to the cemetery where Don's body was buried. He'd been close by—in Oklahoma City, but never here.
"This is where my first husband was buried," I said, leading him toward Don's grave. I was shocked to find not only that my name was listed on the other side of the double headstone, but a date of death as well; it corresponded to the day Griffin had taken me into the future. I learned that Winkler, Weldon and Bill Jenkins had done this. On my side, too, was an inscription—part of a quote from Theodore Roosevelt. It read,
Far better is it to dare mighty things
.
"My father was buried on Kifirin," Roff said, tucking his wings tightly against his body as we stared at the gravesite. After three hundred years, the stone was worn but the inscriptions could still be read.
"Would you like to go there?" I asked, turning to Roff. "Where is your father buried?"
"I took his ashes to Baetrah, when I was pregnant with Toff," Roff said softly. "He died shortly before my two-month came. I decided to visit the volcano then, leave his ashes there and ask Kifirin to take us to Le-Ath Veronis."
The two-month that Roff spoke of was the two months that every comesula was granted at the end of their pregnancy, so they wouldn't have to work before their child came. They were subsidized by the crown on Kifirin, if necessary—one of the few benefits they actually received.
"Well, let's go, then, but first let's get some flowers." We found a flower shop on Kifirin and I
Pulled
in a few gold coins to pay for the bouquet Roff selected. I then folded Roff to Baetrah an Hafei, the city below the volcano on Kifirin. We were joined by Kifirin as we began the long walk up the volcano's side.
"Here to ask the god for a favor?" He was smiling at me.
"Hi, honey. We're here to leave these flowers for Roff's father," I said.
"Then I will come with you," he said. We walked up a well-worn path that switched back often to make the climb easier. "Roff, did you make this climb while you were pregnant?" The path was quite steep in places.
"I did. Many pregnant comesuli came, to ask Kifirin for favors of this kind or that," Roff smiled. "Mine was granted."
"Lissa had much more to do with that than I," Kifirin said. We reached the top after a while. Baetrah was mostly dormant at the moment, with only a bit of steam and smoke coming from the center of the large caldera.
"Where would you like to drop these, Roff?" I asked, pointing to the flowers in his arms.
"In the center, there, if possible," he said.
"Of course it's possible," I told him, and turned us both to mist. We allowed the flowers to drop away beneath us once we were over the right spot, and watched as a tiny tongue of flame consumed them when they fell. Roff and I misted back to Kifirin's side after that.
"Do you have a wish, Avilepha?" Kifirin folded his arms around me.
"Nothing that can be granted," I sighed.
* * *
"You're telling me that one of those three scum is related to the royal family on Twylec?" Garde was angry and let everybody know it. Aurelius wasn't pleased; neither was Flavio, Gavin or the others. One of the three humanoids they'd captured at the casino—the ones behind the attack at New Hesperia—was a cousin to the Queen of Twylec and she demanded that he be returned to her. After being given diplomatic immunity, of course.
"We have a confession, and she's still asking for this?" Tony fumed. Gavin was stone-faced and angry. Drake and Drew were having a furious mental conversation with their father. Winkler sat at the opposite end of the conference table from Gardevik—if the High Demon went Thifilathi, Winkler didn't want to be anywhere near it. He was all for providing some sort of accident in the dungeon, but as a member of the Saa Thalarr, he couldn't be involved.
"What is the Alliance's stance on this?" Aryn had come and was now asking Thurlow for a ruling.
"It is never a good idea to damage relationships between worlds," Thurlow's words were ambiguous. "The Five-Year Conclave is approaching and we have not had the opportunity to gather allies. As the newest member of the Alliance, Le-Ath Veronis is in the minority and vulnerable."
"Fuck the Conclave," Garde growled.
"The Conclave is next month. Perhaps other arrangements may be made." Rigo had been patiently standing in a corner, listening to the debate.
"What other arrangements?" Gavin had been keeping his eye on Rigo. The vampire took his word seriously.
"It will involve some trust on your part. We will make arrangements to ship him to Twylec, with the royal blessing. And then," Rigo paused for a moment, "nature will take its course."
Garde stared at the vampire. Lissa had told him that Rigo, once Rigovarnus I, was eleven thousand years old and a King on Hraede before the turn. Now, he and five other vampires watched over the crown on Hraede, providing careful guidance and subtle interference when necessary. Hraede was stable and prosperous as a result—notoriously so.
"I am inclined to offer that trust," Gavin nodded to Rigo. Garde almost stopped in his tracks—Gavin would never trust lightly. Ever.
"Then I will go with Gavin's judgment and trust," Garde nodded.
"We trust this will not go straight to the Alliance?" Drake and Drew folded to either side of Thurlow, pointing their question at him. He was obligated, after all, to send regular reports to the Defense Minister.
"I hope I can earn your trust as well," he said. "My allegiance is with the Queen."
"Very good," Drake said. "Do not betray that trust, or place Lissa in danger."
"No fear, young Falchani," Thurlow replied with a nod.
"Do you need help?" Erland sidled up to Rigo.
"Perhaps, Warlock," Rigo smiled slightly at Erland. "I haven't failed to notice from the vid feeds that some of the enemy either disappeared recently or were found dead by an unseen hand."
"Maybe three hundred or so," Erland offered one of his best, heart-stopping smiles.
"Impressive," Rigo nodded respectfully to Erland. "And many from the highest echelons. Such a shame. Shall we pay a visit to Satris of Twylec, who languishes in his dungeon cell?"
"I will come as well," Aryn walked over. He'd heard the exchange between Rigo and Erland. He had no qualms about getting involved with this.
"We'll let you place compulsion," Erland grinned and folded them to the dungeon.
* * *
"What are you doing?" Satris of Twylec stood quickly. Three had appeared inside his cell as if by magic.
"Just wanted to offer a pat on the back for convincing your cousin, Queen Tamaritha, that your sorry skin is worth saving," Erland smiled. "Rigo." Erland turned to the ancient vampire.
"This won't hurt—but it may sting a little," Rigo tapped Satris' neck with the small needle he held.
"What in the name of the light was that?" Satris barely felt the prick but he rubbed the side of his neck anyway.
"Your death," Rigo's voice was even and practical. "And from now on, you'll believe you never saw us and that a spider bit you on the journey homeward."
Satris blinked in confusion as all three men disappeared as quickly as they'd appeared in the beginning.
* * *
"So, not only do I have to go to the Conclave, we have to let Satris go because he's related to the Queen of Twylec?" My head hurt. Gavin, Tony, Drake and Drew had come to give me unwelcome news.
"That pretty much sums it up," Tony agreed. "But that's only one of them. You still have the other two, plus Geratt." I was aware of that—the trials were scheduled for the following day.
"When are we shipping him off?" I asked.
"Today. He should be at the spaceport now."
"I trust he's been cautioned not to cause additional trouble until he gets to Twylec?"
"Oh, no worries," Tony replied. I looked at Gavin, who merely shrugged.
"We have interviews this afternoon, for assassins," Tony reminded me. That was something I didn't particularly want to be reminded of. I'd been an idealistic fool—thinking there would never be a reason to execute anyone on Le-Ath Veronis. Trevor had come to take heads from the ones who'd sided with the rogues inside my Council chambers, but he only did it as a favor to me. He preferred what he was doing now—working as Sheriff of Casino City.
Jeral came in and sat with Flavio, Kifirin, Aurelius, Garde, Aryn and me as we brought in the applicants for the two assassin/executioner positions. Of those we interviewed, one was from Beliphar, Jeral's homeworld, and I liked him very much. My goal was to find two like Gavin and Trevor. Trevor was tired of taking heads. I could understand that. Gavin wouldn't even consider it—he was done with that part of his life.
Aryn was a King Vampire. I wondered if he even knew it. His compulsions were nearly as effective as anything Merrill could do and he employed that talent during the interviews. We had two assassins before the afternoon was over, too. Garde and Aurelius asked most of the questions, with Flavio and Aryn chiming in from time to time. We wanted to make sure the vampires didn't want to kill merely for the sake of killing—that they would be swift and merciful when the heads were taken.
Kifirin gave final approval on both, and they were in accord with my choices. Learand from Beliphar and Dawes from Tulgalan were selected. They were assigned rooms at the palace—suites above the dungeons, actually—and a salary was established for both, plus other benefits and privileges. "Learand was a very good choice," Jeral told me later over a cup of tea in the kitchen.
"I think so, too, Uncle," I said, giving him a smile. It hadn't been long since Davan died, and it was difficult working with Grant and Heathe—all three of us moped around my study at times.
"I think that is the first time you've called me that," he smiled back at me.
"I'm only saying it because I mean it," I told him.
"I never thought to have a niece, or any family member," he replied. "And the opportunity to have tea with my niece is even more gratifying."
"I was hoping I'd find you together," Conner appeared beside us. I hadn't seen Conner for a while. I saw Russell, Will, Martin and Lynx often, but not Conner, even though Connegar was her son. She was tastefully dressed, as always, and her long blonde hair was pulled back and clipped. Conner always looked as if she belonged on the pages of a magazine, she was so careful about her appearance. Russell, Will and Martin doted on her. Lynx was very protective and Graegar, well, he and Barrigar loved her more than anything.
"Lady," Jeral dipped his head to the Guardian. Conner gave me a hug.
"I have a message for Jeral, Grant, Heathe and you," she informed me. Conner escorted souls to the other side at times, and she was asked to deliver messages by those souls, now and then. I never thought to be on the receiving end of one, however.
"Grant and Heathe are in my study," I said. Conner's appearance meant Davan had left a message for us. I wanted to cry.
"We'll go to your study, then," Conner agreed. We walked—I wasn't in a hurry to hear this—it was tears waiting to come. Jeral placed an arm about my shoulders as we walked. I looked up at my uncle—he resembled his mother, Narissa, and my nieces, with darker hair and gold-flecked eyes. I didn't see much of Griffin in his face, but then Wylend Arden hadn't been his father.
"Grant, Heathe, this is Conner," I introduced her when we walked into my study. My two remaining assistants were going through stacks of mail. Today was the day for that, this week. Conner was good—I'll give her that. She got us seated and comfortable before explaining to Grant and Heathe what she was and what she could do. They were shocked, I think, and shocking vampires is pretty tough to do, most of the time.
The message presented was a three-dimensional image, almost, much like a video or a live presentation, as Conner played the memory back to us when she'd taken Davan to the gate.
He was there, looking happy. I didn't expect that—he was happy. "I want you to take a message to my friends," he said. I wanted to weep at the sound of his voice. Jeral grasped my hand in his. "I want you to tell them what I see," Davan said. "I see a beautiful meadow in bright sunlight, with flowers everywhere. People are here, waiting for me. I know them. All of them, somehow, even though we haven't met. I feel happy and I can't explain it. Tell my brother Jeral that I don't regret what he did for me. Tell Heathe and Grant that I never thought to find such good friends. Tell them I love them. Tell Lissa that she shines like the sun, even in my memory of her. Nothing is forever, except the soul and love. Tell Lissa that for me." He turned away, then, fading into something we couldn't see.