Future Dreams (25 page)

“You still think she’s using Jame?” Jyac asked.

“Yes,” Gindor said. “Think of it from her point of view. She’s led the greatest army this world has ever seen. And this army will never exist again because of the cleansing. Before the Guards, Emoria boasted the greatest warriors. I think she wants to lead another army, but this time for her own dreams of power. I don’t doubt she planned this from the very beginning. She most likely heard there was an Emoran arguing cases for the Guards. Why else would she have rejected all those other arbiters? She wanted Jame to defend her.”

Jyac frowned. “Why didn’t she just ask for her?”

“That would have been too obvious,” Gindor said.

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Let’s settle on a compromise,” Gindor said. “We deny Jame’s petition to be joined with that woman. If they’re still together and Jame hasn’t returned to us heartbroken by this time next year, we’ll reconsider the petition.”

Gindor looked at the Council members on either side of her and received slow, thoughtful nods of agreement. She then gazed at Jyac.

“That is acceptable,” Jyac said. “I just hope Jame understands our caution.”

JAME CONCENTRATED ON raking the sand around the artfully placed stones in the tiny front yard and frowned at a distant distinctive clip clop of hooves on the adobe brick lane. When the sound grew closer, she raised curious eyes just in time to see Tigh, wearing a happy grin, round the corner leading a large pale horse.

“What’s this?” Jame asked, putting down the rake.

Tigh raised an eyebrow. “This is a horse.”

“Let me rephrase that.” Jame gave her a tolerant look. “What is this all about?”

“This is about a horse,” Tigh said. “Our horse.”

“Ours?” Jame approached the watching beast.

“This is Gessen.” Tigh patted the horse. “She was given to me after the Siege of Operal.”

Jame ran her hands through the flaxen mane. “You never mentioned you had a horse.”

“I wasn’t sure what happened to her,” Tigh said. “They took away everything else so I figured she had a new owner. But it turned out she wouldn’t accept any other owner. So she’s been stabled here all this time.”

“Why didn’t they let you know she was here?” Jame asked.

Tigh shrugged. “They forgot about her until now. Then they decided to surprise me with her as a gift for receiving my peace warrior medallion.”

It took all of two heartbeats for Tigh’s words to penetrate. “You have your medallion?” The horse was forgotten as Jame focused all her attention on Tigh.

Tigh pulled the medallion, strung around her neck, from beneath her tunic. “I took all the tests this morning.”

Jame wrapped her arms around Tigh and gave her a happy kiss. “Now we can get on with our lives.” She looked at the horse. “Gessen’s a little big for a house pet.”

“She can stay in the common stables when we’re in Ynit,” Tigh said. “I just brought her by to show her off to you.”

“We have to celebrate,” Jame said. “It’s my turn to treat you to a romantic dinner by the Rih River.”

Tigh’s eyes sparkled. “Do you think we can get the same table as the last time?” she asked in Jame’s ear.

Jame caught her breath as a jolt of desire ran through her. “I’ll pay them anything to make sure we get it.” The intimate tables of the only Ingoran establishment in Ynit were not only private but overlooked the gentle Rih River and the city gardens. The setting combined with the delectable food had brought out Tigh’s romantic side.

Tigh lead Gessen to one of the hitching posts that lined the lane and followed Jame into their house. Once inside, she stood in the middle of the room with an uncertain expression on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Jame asked.

Tigh took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom followed by a concerned Jame. She knelt in front of her trunk, removed several things, and then paused at a neatly wrapped bundle. She lifted the bundle out of the trunk and took it to the bed.

Jame stood next to Tigh and looked on as she pulled back the soft cloth covering and revealed a pile of black clothing. Tigh ran a hand over the supple leather.

“Your leathers,” Jame said.

“Yes,” Tigh said. “I’ve been thinking about them. I liked them.”

“And you want to wear them again.”

“They’re only black leathers,” Tigh said. “Just because they were worn by the Guards doesn’t make them any different from any other set of leathers.”

“If you want to wear them, then wear them.” Jame placed a reassuring hand on Tigh’s arm. “I think you’d look good in them.”

“Really?” Tigh turned to Jame with a quirky grin.

“Yeah,” Jame said. “It’s not what you wear, it’s what’s in your heart and mind. Maybe by seeing you in them people will forget about when the Guards wore them.”

“Thank you,” Tigh said in relief. “I guess it’s time to retire the blue leathers.”

THE RIH RIVER provided a cool oasis for the city in the desert. Thanks to its spring fed origins in the Phytian Mountains, water flowed year round to the sea. As would be expected, property along the Rih was scandalously expensive and jealously kept by those fortunate to own a piece of the river’s edge. The old building housing The Merchant’s Lair had been snatched up by several enterprising Ingorans and the establishment became a southern refuge for travelers from Ingor.

Jame, nestled against a relaxed Tigh on the cushioned benches that faced the river and gardens, was just happy The Merchant’s Lair existed. The outer tables were really covered balconies with panels, illustrated with subdued paintings that lined the back of the benches and an intricate iron grill served as a barrier to the outside.

A panel to one side of the balcony slid open and a server entered with an ornately decorated box. Jame watched with fascination as the server pulled stunning silver and black covered dishes from the box and piled them into an elaborate design on the table. When he finished his task, he bowed, backed out of the chamber, and closed the panel.

Tigh sat forward, bringing Jame with her. “This is a meal for celebrating life changing events. We’ve both gone through so many life changes in the last few months, it’s time to celebrate them all.”

“Each day I’ve spent with you has changed my life,” Jame said.

Tigh cupped Jame’s cheek in her hand and kissed her. “My life would be nothing without you.”

Warmed by the jolt of happiness shooting through her, Jame turned her attention to the table. Delicate aromas escaped the covered dishes and pulled her into the feast.

Tigh knew the secret to unraveling the design without causing an avalanche of food. Jame took delight as images of birds, animals, and flowers appeared as they consumed the contents of each dish and placed them back in the box.

Jame stared at the last layer of dishes that sat on the table. She was, at first, puzzled over how the server knew, then she grinned. “You planned this.”

Tigh shrugged. “Just a coincidence.”

Jame delivered a couple of playful punches to Tigh’s arm. “I think it’s wonderful.”

“In that case,” Tigh said, “I planned the whole thing.”

A laughing Jame wrapped her arms around Tigh and they admired the crossed arbiter’s mallet and sword artfully rendered with dishes of various sizes and shapes.

“Before we eat this final part of the meal, we must follow tradition and drink a toast to our future.” Tigh picked up a thick, round jar from the opposite side of the design. She pulled out the stopper and poured a rich aromatic liquid into a pair of tiny cups.

Jame took one of the cups and followed Tigh’s lead as they moved them in a ritual offering to the moon and the sun. They then sipped the heady liquid from each other’s cup.

Still spellbound by the ritual and as the warmth of the potent liquid hit Jame’s senses, she became lost in the need to taste the wine on Tigh’s lips. She felt as if their hearts and souls were pulled together by forces beyond their understanding and knew that nothing would ever be strong enough to force them apart.

Tigh uncovered the first dish in the design, revealing a sweet candied fruit. “A meal of celebration must end sweetly.”

“What about the evening after the meal?” Jame was lost in the sensual world that Tigh had enveloped her in.

“That is even sweeter than the richest confection,” Tigh breathed against Jame’s cheek.

“Then I look forward to celebrating our life together every day and every night.” Jame smiled and the earthly sweets were forgotten.

Chapter 19

Jame reread the words on the note. Sark and Poag were back in Ynit. Waiting at the Emoran safe house to speak to her. She mentally slammed her fist against the wall. Good news always arrived by messenger; bad news was always in person.

She ran a hand through her hair and worked on calming the mixture of anger and uncertainty crashing through her mind.
Maybe it’s just a minor setback of some kind.
She forced herself to be soothed by this thought.

She walked to the small desk in the corner of the bedroom, put the stopper back on the ink jar, and wiped clean her quill. The morning had been perfect for catching up on her journal. Quiet, with just a hint of autumn touching the air. Tigh had taken Gessen out onto the sandy plains south of the city to reestablish their bond.

The walk to the Emoran safe house was not long enough for Jame’s unsettled mind and she stopped for several heartbeats outside the door to pull together the resolve to face whatever Sark and Poag had for her.

A somber Otlar opened the door.

“Good morning, Otlar,” Jame said. “I’m here to see Sark and Poag.”

“They told me to expect you, my princess,” Otlar said. “They’re in the eagle room on the second floor.”

“Thank you.” Jame crossed the quiet common room to the back stairs. The eagle room. The same one Argis had stayed in. Out of the way from the rest of the rooms. She sighed and strode to the door in question. After studying the artistic rendering of the noble bird, she knocked.

Sark, looking as if she’d been caught in an unpleasant situation, opened the door. Jame entered and noticed that Poag was looking out the window. Poag’s body language spoke of embarrassment and defeat.

Instead of making her more unsettled, Poag’s behavior lifted Jame’s confidence. Whatever the news was, it wasn’t a popular decision.

“Let’s sit.” Sark indicated several chairs in front of the small fireplace. The aroma of spiced tea, in a kettle on a warming shelf, filled the air. Jame sat and Sark poured out a mug of the tea for each of them.

“There’s only one thing that requires a face to face meeting rather than a written message,” Jame said, taking pity on the messengers. If she were in Emoria, Jyac and Gindor would be having this talk with her rather than their Right Hands.

“We gave a favorable report,” Sark said. “Jyac was willing to give you a chance to prove you really want to pursue this profession and that Tigh is a suitable life companion for you.”

Jame sighed. “So it’s Gindor? What could she have possibly said to change Jyac’s mind?”

Poag’s chin dropped and she shook her head at the window.

“Gindor thinks Tigh is using you,” Sark said.

“Using me,” Jame said. “You mean to get me to successfully free her from the rehabilitation program? If that were true, she’d be long gone.”

 Sark shook her head. “Gindor thinks Tigh deliberately chose you as her arbiter and entered into a romantic relationship with you to get inside Emoria so she could form another powerful army to continue her ruthless campaigns. This time to feed her own need for power.”

Jame stared at her in disbelief. “Gindor sees the world from Emoria outward. But the truth is, Emoria barely exists for the rest of the world. We may have once boasted the greatest warriors but to those outside of Emoria today, they live only in legends. If Tigh wanted to form an army to pursue mad dreams of power, she had the opportunity during the two years she was in hiding before her cleansing. While she was still Tigh the Terrible.”

“You must understand, Jyac has to take the safety of Emoria into consideration,” Sark said. “They’re having problems accepting that a victorious military leader would be willing to become a passive follower of a peace arbiter.”

“Under normal circumstances even I’d have problems with the idea.” Jame captured Sark’s sympathetic eyes. “But we all know that anything concerning the Guards is beyond usual logic. Will they let me bring Tigh to Emoria so they can see the truth for themselves?”

Sark stared at the dying fire. “Gindor has convinced Jyac that Tigh must be considered a risk to Emoria.”

“So they won’t see her?” Jame swallowed on a dry throat as a devastating disappointment washed over her. “They won’t even grant that simple request?” She turned her head away to wipe an unwanted tear from her cheek. The denial was like a sting of betrayal from her people.

“Jyac defended you,” Sark said. “But she also understands Gindor’s caution. They came to a compromise.”

Jame gave Sark a puzzled look. “Compromise?”

“If you and Tigh are still together as peace arbiter and warrior and still wish to be joined a year from now, they’ll reconsider your petition,” Sark said.

“We want to be joined now,” Jame said. “If we were in Emoria, we’d be having the ceremony at the point of a sword.”

“Gindor isn’t comfortable with the fact that you’re sharing a home with Tigh, but Emoran law doesn’t extend outside our borders,” Sark said. “She thinks the safety of Emoria is more important that the indiscretion of an Emoran princess.”

“It sounds like too many made up excuses to me.” Jame let her simmering anger surface. “They have the word of the Military Tribunal for the Southern Territories that Tigh is not dangerous. If they aren’t willing to accept my judgment on the matter, then that, at least, should mean something to them. A year isn’t going to make any difference.”

“They just don’t want you to rush into this,” Sark said.

Jame, not in the mood to be reasonable, stood up. This wasn’t just a matter of the acceptance of a life companion, this was a reflection of Jyac’s attitude toward her. Turning away from becoming a warrior didn’t make her weak and defenseless, but that was the underlying sentiment she felt from everyone in Emoria. If they wanted proof she could make sound decisions about her life and who she wanted to spend that life with, she’d give it to them. On her own terms.