WindDeceiver (8 page)

Safe.”

“She’s got no business going on any raid,” Conar scoffed. He drew his left leg up and massaged it, thankful it was no longer encased in splints.

“Rachel is good at what she does,” her brother defended her.

“So I’m told,” Conar drawled.

“Is she so much like your lady-wife?” Asher asked.

Conar flinched, looking up quickly to stare at the man. “What?”

“Balizar has letters from his brother, Hern. He went over them this evening, looking for a reason why you might dislike women.”

“Dislike wo ….” Conar snapped his mouth shut and looked to the heavens. “I don’t dislike women,” he growled. “I hope Hern’s letters settled that!”

“When he read about Hern meeting the young Princess Elizabeth in Oceania, he--“

“Wait a minute!” Conar interrupted. “Hern never went to Oceania.”

A confused pucker drew Asher’s brows together. “I beg to differ, but Balizar’s brother said he went there to see what all the commotion was about. Why you were refusing to meet your intended. That was the Princess, wasn’t it?”

“Aye,” Conar mumbled, a nagging little memory rearing up at the back of his mind. Didn’t Hern leave Boreas for a few weeks? Aye, he did!

“It seems the older Arbra met with the lady, spoke with her, and between the two of them decided when it would be best that you met her. He said you had thought her deformed in some way, so he described her for Balizar. From that description, he might as well have been painting a portrait of Rachel.”

Letters, Conar mused. First Liza’s letters to Sabrina; now Hern’s letters to Balizar. What he was finding out about the two people he had loved most in the world, who were both no longer in his world, was unbelievable. No wonder Hern had never tried to talk him out of his affair with Liza. The old warrior had known all along who the girl really was.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Conar whispered. “He told her I’d be at the Hound and Stag that day.”

“I beg your pardon?” Asher asked only to have Conar wave away his question.

“I’d like to read those letters sometime,” the Serenian said.

“So they are very much alike, then? Rachel and your lady-wife?”

Conar nodded. “Too much alike, it seems.”

WINDDECEIVER Charlotte Boyett-Compo 37

Asher looked at him a moment and then turned to go. “I think I understand why you don’t wish to be around Rachel, now.”

“Do

you?”

Asher glanced back to find the Outlander staring at him. “Yes. You see your lady-wife in my sister’s face and it hurts you.”

Aye, Conar muttered to himself. It hurt like hell.

“Then you know why I don’t want her in on the raids.”

“Yes,” Asher replied, “but there is something you are forgetting, Khamsin.”

“What?”

Asher smiled. “Rachel is not your lady-wife. Rachel is Rachel.”

Dawn broke misting rain and whipping the wind about them as they mounted their horses.

Already, in the space of several moments only, the men were damp and out of sorts. Their horses were restless, catching the excitement that drove the men recklessly into their saddles with eager thighs and tense hands.

“May the Prophetess ride with you,” Rupine called out to them as Balizar took the lead, Conar directly behind him.

“May the Wind be at our backs,” Balizar quipped, looking back to wink at Conar.

Conar grinned, feeling really alive for the first time in months. No, he corrected himself, years! He kicked his mount’s flanks and galloped ahead of Balizar, turning his head to issue a challenge.

Rachel, her face obscured in the folds of her headpiece, shook her head. The man was reckless, arrogant, so cocksure of himself he was a danger to everyone on the raid. But he was good at what he did. She had already seen that as he had personally trained some of their men, shouting instructions as though he were bred to lead.

And he had been, she thought with a glimmer of excitement. Asher had whispered his secret to her, swearing her to secrecy, and she had been utterly shocked to learn the man’s true identity.

“The Dark Overlord of the Wind!” Asher had breathed in awe. “Imagine it, Rachel! The Darkwind, himself, leading our little rag-tag group of warriors!”

Even in the backsands of their part of the world, they had heard of the mighty Darkwind.

Many of them had met men from the Wind Force when they had transported escaped slaves to the Outland. Tales of the Darkwind’s exploits were legendary. He was a hero to his people.

And soon would be with her own.

“Khamsin,” she said aloud, her eyes on him. What an apt name for the man.

The man ahead of her moved out and Rachel nudged her mount forward, keeping her head down so no one would notice the last rider in line. So no one could make her turn back.

“That man is an idiot!” she had argued with her brother, but Asher had demanded she stay behind.

“We must do as he says. He’ll be our salvation, Rachel,” Asher believed. “I know he will.”

Rachel

did,

too.

If she could help keep him alive long enough!

WINDDECEIVER Charlotte Boyett-Compo 38

Sitting in the midst of a lush growth of wavering grasses, The Farm, as most of Rysalia called it, looked somehow out of place. All around it were undulating sands, for as far as the eye could see; but right smack in the middle of all that inhospitable barrenness, was a sprawling structure, its many arms spread out like the spokes of a wheel. The pink-tinged stone rising up off the desert floor made the structure look as though it had sprang up out of the earth to roost among the lush green grass.

“It has a certain charm, don’t you think?” Sajin asked as they rode toward the place.

Yuri chuckled. “I wonder what kind of mood he’ll be in when he sees us.”

Sajin had to bite his lip, something he’d done for three days now, to keep from laughing.

Just contemplating Conar in such a place had kept his side aching from laughing for all that time.

“Not a happy camper, I wouldn’t imagine,” Yuri answered his own thought.

“If what you tell me of the man is true,” Azalon quipped, “he well might be enjoying himself.” He grinned. “I know I would.”

“Not Conar,” Sajin answered. “He will have brought the woman’s wrath down on him by now.” He glanced at Yuri. “How long do you reckon he’s been here?”

“A month and a half. Possibly longer.” Yuri couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Long enough to have fathered half a battalion of Wind Warriors.”

“Don’t!” Sajin snorted, his laughter starting all over again. His horse sidestepped, tossing its head at the man. It snickered to show its disdain.

Yuri started chuckling, too, his sputtering driving his own mount to dancing.

“I can not wait to meet this man,” Azalon commented.

“How much do you think we’ll have to pay to get him back?” Yuri asked.

“Not the two hundred thousand she paid for him!” Sajin drawled, then burst out laughing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“What if she won’t sell him?” Azalon asked in all seriousness.

Sajin looked at Yuri and the two men’s guffaws were instant blasts of hilarity.

“She might not,” Azalon told them, offended that they could find the situation so funny.

“Obviously she prizes his physical--“ He stopped, shocked into silence by the loud hoots of humor coming from his companions.

Kharis stood just outside the main circle of protective wall which ringed the farm and watched the men approaching. He could hear their laughter, took in the slow canter of their horses and reckoned them slave buyers coming to inspect the Lady Sabrina’s latest crop of offspring. He turned to speak to one of his underlings.

“Tell the lady we have visitors.”

“Any reason to be concerned?” the man asked.

Kharis turned back, heard more raucous laughter and shook his head. “I think not, but I’ll wait here and speak to them.”

Ten minutes later, the trio came down off a high sand dune, and walked their thirsty mounts toward the opening where a tall man stood sentinel.

“Good thing we didn’t bring the others with us,” Sajin remarked. “They might have closed the gates.”

WINDDECEIVER Charlotte Boyett-Compo 39

“Let me do the talking,” Azalon said. He glanced at Sajin. “They will no doubt know who you are, Your Grace. If they become suspicious, we might never find your friend.”

“We’ll find him,” Yuri said. “Just listen for the loudest, meanest bellow you can hear!”

“Or the longest shout of ecstasy!” Sajin quipped, bringing fresh gales of laughter to Yuri.

Kharis smiled warmly at the laughing men as they came abreast of him. He bowed with respect, then straightened, momentarily taken off guard when he recognized Prince Sajin Ben-Alkazar.

“My most humble greetings, Oh, Exalted One,” Kharis called out. “You honor us with your presence at our lowly establishment.”

Azalon walked his horse forward and smiled down with what he hoped resembled jaded acceptance of their due.

“His Grace has heard you have a fresh crop of young ones,” Azalon said in a bored voice.

“He wishes to choose a few for his household.”

Kharis bowed. “Of course, Sire! You are most welcome. Please, dismount and I will have a servant take you where you may refresh yourselves. My mistress will want to escort you personally to the nursery.”

Sajin hoped to the Prophetess his dislike of the man and his disgust of the situation did not show on his carefully arranged face. He inclined his head in acceptance of the man’s offer. He swung his leg over his mount’s head and slid to the ground.

“I would consider it a favor if I might be able to study your operation here,” Sajin said, ignoring Azalon’s heavy scowl and Yuri’s averted face. “I am interested in the aspects of slave breeding.”

Yuri nearly choked and had to cough to hide it. He didn’t dare look up for fear his eyes would give him away.

“A case of gobbling up more than he could swallow,” Sajin said in a bored voice. “The man is obnoxious, but a good servant.”

Yuri choked again and had to turn completely around and stare back over the desert they had crossed to keep his composure. He listened to Azalon condemning him as well and finally found self-control enough to face the inquisitive slaver. He frowned heavily at the man, hoping to intimidate him.

He

did.

“My mistress will provide you with whatever you want, Your Grace,” Kharis assured the Kensetti Prince. “If you wish a woman to warm your beds--“

“I think not,” Azalon announced. “We won’t be here that long.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sajin corrected. “I might decide to bide a few days here to--“ he glanced at Yuri. “--observe what goes on.”

Yuri choked again, coughing so hard his face turned purple with the effort.

None of them saw Chase Montyne watching them from one of the windows of the main building. He was leaning against the windowsill, his fingers threaded together, smiling.

“I can’t be sure, but I think one of the visitors is a man I know,” he told the woman at his side.

“Friend or foe?” Sabrina asked. Her eyesight was not all that good and she had to squint just to make out how many men were with Kharis at the gate.

“Yuri Andreanova is a man I would not call friend, but he is one of Conar’s most trusted men. I have no idea who the other two are.”

Sabrina’s brows shot upward. “Do you think they are here to find the Serenian?”

WINDDECEIVER Charlotte Boyett-Compo 40

Chase nodded. “Aye.” He pushed away from the sill. “They’re here looking for Coni.”

“Stay here,” she instructed him. “Let me see what they want.”

Sajin looked around the luxurious furnishings of the parlor and was impressed. The carpet on the floor was worth a small fortune and the chandelier overhead had to have cost a sum to match.

“My own receiving room at Jabol is not as imposing as this,” he said, fingering a richly woven tapestry. He looked around at his companions. “This is a woman of taste.”

“And breeding,” Yuri snickered.

Azalon looked to the heavens, annoyed with the two men. If he heard one more innuendo, he would murder them and be done with it. He was about to chastise them for their lack of decorum when their hostess entered.

“Lady Sabrina?” Azalon inquired, bowing graciously to her. “We are honored.”

She moved into the room, her dark gaze shifting over Azalon, widening only a little as she took in Yuri’s bulk, then settling with admiration on Sajin.

“Your Grace,” she said in a throaty voice, dipping him a perfect curtsy. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to my home.”

Sajin smiled. “And my pleasure to visit you,” he answered her, going to her and taking her hand in his. He brought it to his lips. “It is always a pleasure to be in the company of so lovely a lady.”

Her laugh was rich and teasing. “Your reputation proceeds you, Prince Sajin,” she admonished. “Flattery will not lower my prices, but it well might get you other things you desire.”

Ben-Alkazar clapped his free hand over his heart. “You wound me, Lady,” he protested. “I speak the truth.” He squeezed her hand. “You are lovely.”

Sabrina shook her head. “I have been warned about you.” She withdrew her hand and swept it toward the settee. “Please,” she bid him take a seat, then sat down in a large wing back chair facing him.

Sajin glanced at Yuri and then seated himself. He smiled at her, not knowing how to begin.

He was relieved when Azalon opened the conversation.

“We have come to inquire of your new little ones. His Grace wishes to find children suitable for playmates for his brother’s youngest.”

Sabrina turned her gaze to Sajin. “Really?” At his nod, she cocked a brow. “I have been told you do not approve of slavery, Your Grace.”