Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 7

  It was not over; Diana trembled with her growing fury. It was not over. Elana knew each step of what was to come — knew and stood there doing nothing!

  The oval touched Elana’s breast, above her heart, and her stillness broke with a shudder. A ragged breath was pulled in between her teeth as her head jerked forward, the dark hair hiding her face from Diana. Her lungs seemed to pull and push at the same time as if she had forgotten the sequence of inhale-exhale.

  Jezebet removed the stone and returned it to the plate.

  Straining, Elana forced her body to straighten, and with an effort relaxed her jaw enough to gasp for air. The Mistress, careful not to touch the oiled, brown-flushed skin, gingerly lifted the dark hair over Elana’s shoulders.

  The tension in Diana eased as Elana’s eyes flickered and finally opened. She tipped her head back and allowed the Mistress to arrange long tresses behind her. She had not been hiding tears, Diana decided, and suddenly, harshly, she wondered, why she was so concerned anyway? Elana did not meekly submit to anything, if their forbidden exchange in the garden was any example. Yet Diana did care. It proved nothing that Elana was a willing participant — nothing except that the woman believed in the rite.

  That was not good enough, Diana admitted. Beliefs in customs did not make them right. It often merely condoned the barbarism.

  The small jar reappeared and Jezebet began to drizzle the perfumed oil around the embers, circling the bronze plate. The liquid crackled, re-lighting the charred fragments; incense sputtered into smoke. The flames danced about the glittering plate, and Diana felt her throat grow parched and raw from the thickening fumes. Their touch no longer induced the balmy fog for her. Looking to Elana, she saw that blue gaze fastened, unblinking, on the fiery depths. Elana was obviously still bound beneath that scented spell.

  Jezebet reached again for the stone amidst the flames. Off-center, between the dark caramel breasts, the skin reddened — scorched. Diana frowned as Elana extended her left hand low over the dwindling flames to warm the oil of her wrist.

  Slowly Elana rotated her palm upwards, clenching her fingers, arching her wrist flat. The bluish veins were barely distinguishable under the brown flesh. The stone hovered above the exposed skin, and Elana was held bewitched by its white depths.

  “Your eyes, Child,” Jezebet prompted gently. The warm, almost loving tone of her voice angered Diana as Elana’s eyes closed obediently. It was the voice of a mother sending a trusting child off to dreams — off to nightmares!

  “If you stop this now,” the Mistress said, reading her thoughts, “she will not live through the hour. It is too late to alter the course.”

  Diana’s furious gaze locked with the elder’s, but it was too late. Jezebet’s fingers dropped the white stone, perfectly centered, onto the small wrist.

  A cry tore from Elana’s lips and her free hand grasped her arm, forcing it level. Her head flung back. Desperately her body struggled to stand upright — fighting her knees from buckling — her stomach from cramping. The whiteness of the stone was gone; a chaos of scarlet, blue and lavender streaked across the polished surface. Oil poured thick over the rock and wrist, down to the blazing coals below. The stench of burnt flesh tainted the air as skin blackened and crisped at the stone’s edge.

  A hand clamped against Diana’s arm. Her glaring rage stared the old woman down, but in this moment of distraction, it was finished.

  The leaping fire atop the coals retreated into nothing but orange embers. Incense and the sickening reek of flesh evaporated; only the wood smoke from the hearthfire touched the air.

  The coolness of a night’s breeze seemed to whip through the small chamber, bringing a freshness. Diana shuddered at the sudden cold. Confused, she looked to Elana’s bent form. Her arm was still supported by her hand; her shoulders huddled low, but she was breathing again — ragged, uneven breaths, and her cheeks were scarred with tears — but she was breathing.

  Jezebet spread a pasty salve around the stone on Elana’s wrist. Diana stepped nearer to stare.

  “Don’t touch me!” Elana pleaded in a strangled whisper. “Not… yet….”

  Diana nodded, moved by the tear-stricken face. Elana’s eyes were still closed, but from exhaustion now, not pain. Diana’s gaze was drawn back to the stone. The rock had paled to a dull white with the pattern of pulsing veins still ruby-blue within. But it no longer rested atop her wrist; it fit flush with the brown skin. Jezebet wrapped the arm in a soft dressing to heal, hiding the stone from her probing stare.

  “You will be fine?” Diana asked in Common. A piece of her urgently needed reassurance independent from the Mistress.

  The blue eyes opened and blinked as Elana nodded. “I need rest. That is all….”

  “She must sleep,” Jezebet said quietly, wrapping a warm cloak around her charge. “Her body must adapt to your rhythms. She will be with you for eventide.”

  How could anyone think of food now? Diana thought with irritation.

  “I must go,” Elana murmured.

  “Yes.” Diana desperately wanted to carry her to her bed if she wasn’t to lie down here. Anything to get her off her feet quickly.

  A serving man appeared from the black curtained entrance in the chamber’s back. He hesitated at the sight of Diana. Jezebet signaled him forward.

  “Until eventide.” The Mistress smiled, and Elana gratefully, wearily, nodded.

  The burly servant lifted her carefully, touching only the cloak, not her bare skin.

  Jezebet led him from the room and Diana watched with a feeling of frustration and helplessness. The Mistress would not let her be. With a tug on her tunic, the woman summoned Diana along. “I have a warm bath prepared, young Amazon. Let us not dawdle until it cools.”

  “Yes.” With an effort she took her eyes from the curtained exit and followed.

  † † †

  Chapter Eight

  The long table was spread with everything from a smoked fowl lexion to an assortment of peeled fruits. The sweet aroma of mulled wine drifted across the chamber, and Diana’s mouth watered. It was her habit to forget about her stomach when food was not readily available. A convenient mental trick, often resulting in mild headaches — and a voracious appetite when there finally was an opportunity to eat. Diana anticipated the food as she half-listened to the Council Speaker prattle on about weather projections and supplies. There were only seven of the high-backed chairs pulled forward from their places along the tapestry-hung walls, although judging by the quantity of food laid, they easily could have been expecting fifteen or so guests.

  The Council Speaker excused himself and crossed the room as a dark-cowled Seer appeared, leaving Diana to her own devices. She wondered if the robed one was the same Seer she had been presented to after her bath. It had been a rather unnerving experience, considering her earlier conversation with Elana. Although her Imperial loyalty had not been strained in the least, her concerns for her own Sisterhood had been another matter entirely.

  To the outsiders, dey Sorormin was a society of highly aggressive women who were technologically sophisticated — and very dangerous. The risk in challenging their planetary rights had always seemed too great, and so since the colonization of their solar system, Amazons had been warily respected and their rights seldom disputed. But like Aggar, the Sisterhood was relatively independent of the Empire. Amazons did hold chairs on the Imperial Senate and they did contribute the minimal monies and personnel to the Imperial Government that their Senate membership required. However, they were isolationists at heart, just like Aggar’s Council of Ten. The Sisterhood believed in their own path and control of their own destiny even more than the Imperial governing males liked to admit. The fact that their society was based on a balance of ecology and technology and not on hi-tech bravado was something that no outsider knew. It was something the Sisterhood dearly hoped none ever would. It was the sheer reputation of the Amazons’ strength that had averted so many disasters, and so it was a mythical reputation that
the Sisterhood dearly guarded.

  So faced with the Council’s Seer, Diana had desperately sifted through Elana’s warning words and sought to weave some kind of defense. Patterns of thoughts and feelings, Elana had said. Diana had resurrected her anger from the life-bonding ceremony, drawing upon the very intensity of her hostility and hoping to blur those patterns which would have sprung from mere thoughts. And Elana had admitted to the importance of locking gazes. Diana had completely refused to look at the Seer. She did not know if the interview had proven as fruitless as she’d intended, but she had been fairly confident that it had not been as profitable as the Council expected.

  The door opposite Diana opened, and she grimaced as Baily reappeared. She’d thought he might have returned to the base and to his regular military duties, but it seemed such hopes were futile.

  He charged across the room in a nervous fury, “What are you doing dressed like that!? N’Athena, it’s positively indecent — ”

  A single eyebrow lifted and her silence made Baily falter. The man pressed his lips together as his mustache twitched. They both knew that he had no idea whether she was inappropriately clothed or not. He should know that tights and belted tunics were as commonplace indoors as jerkins and britches were outdoors.

  After a moment, Diana said, “They generously offered to clean my traveling gear. I took them up on it.”

  Baily cleared his throat and glanced around, attempting to reclaim his authority as he tugged on the waist of his short jacket. “That was considerate of them.”

  “Is the equipment I requested unloaded?”

  “Your pack and small saddle bag. Everything is locked in a rather insecure looking trunk in some bedchamber.”

  “It’ll be left alone.” At his dubious stare, Diana attempted to put it in terms he’d understand. “They need our cooperation, Thomas. They’ll not jeopardize that for a five minute look, and they know we’ll pull out completely if they actually steal anything. They have an investment in this mission too, you know.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Still… I worry.”

  She gave up, folded her arms, and consoled herself with the promise of eventide. Even Thomas could not spoil her appetite.

  “That partner of yours. Damn but she’s a pretty one!” Baily’s sudden smile grew into a leer. “Someone ought to warn her how long you’ve been away from home.”

  “Terran!” Glaring eyes cut him off as Diana turned on him with a hiss. “You will not subject her to your crudeness!”

  “Now look here. I’m still your commander — ”

  “Persist in your sordid insinuations and you’ll be hard pressed to be one again!”

  “You… don’t have that kind of authority!” But his voice wavered, betraying him.

  “I have Sisters who do.”

  The blond mustache twitched twice. “I won’t be intimidated.”

  “You have already behaved badly enough. Your conduct at the Choosing was unbefitting any commander!”

  “Yes, well.” With an obvious effort he turned, straightening his shoulders stiffly. “There is no cause to discuss this further… given your cooperation… and propriety. It would certainly discourage our tenuous relations with their Elders to press the matter.”

  Slowly Diana recognized his need to save face and controlled her temper. But she did not trust this man, and it always bothered her to remember just how much she disliked him too.

  Baily coughed loudly as the others approached. “Gentlemen…,” he bent his stiffest, most courteous bow to the Speaker and Old Master, “…it is kind of you to extend your hospitality to the evening meal. The table is well set, I compliment you both.” He paused and the Council Speaker translated briefly for the Master.

  The man acknowledged the Commander’s words with a patently formal smile, but Baily had already turned as Elana slid around the others and joined Diana. “It’s Elana, yes? A lovely name, almost as lovely as the girl that carries it.”

  Startled at his over-anxious, over-enthusiastic approach, Elana halted as the man grasped her hand in both of his. Deliberately she kept her eyes downcast and her amarin hazy. This was not someone she wished to notice her blue eyes.

  “May I say how prettily you are dressed tonight? Your tan is most becoming against the blue of your blouse.”

  Diana flexed upwards on her toes as her hands clenched and unclenched at his tactlessness. It was a rude breech of privacy on Aggar to comment on another’s change of skin color. Emotions were not openly discussed even among many families — and certainly never with strangers.

  Elana smiled hesitantly, confused by her lack of Common vocabulary. His amarin was obviously intent on flattering her, but equally blatant was Di’nay’s fury. Carefully she returned in his tongue, “Your compliment is accepted, Commander.”

  Taken aback by her use of his language, the man blinked and his smile broadened. But Elana moved quickly aside, allowing the Council Speaker to escort Baily diplomatically off towards the table. The Old Master followed with an evident reluctance with which Elana empathized .

  In concern Diana touched Elana’s shoulder. “Are you well?”

  “Yes.” Elana smiled with reassurance.

  Then abruptly, as if suddenly burnt, Diana’s hand dropped. She found herself acutely conscious of the cool blueness of Elana’s tunic and the thin, matching ribbons that were braided into the dark hair. Dismayed, Diana realized that she was attracted to this woman — to this child?! There must be fourteen — fifteen years difference between them? She was reacting just as Thomas said!

  Z’ki Sak, Diana. Diana bit off a short breath. She didn’t need this!

  “They wait for you,” Elana murmured hesitantly, nodding towards the table. Another pair of robed figures had joined them and everyone was being seated.

  “Yes, I know.” Diana scowled, making no move towards them.

  Curiously Elana watched her. The aura of anger and impatience was apparent to her, but there was no target she understood. “May I help?” Elana offered finally.

  “No,” Diana said flatly, spinning on her heel. “They’ve waited long enough.”

  Elana followed quickly.

  For Elana the evening that followed passed much too quickly. Di’nay was introduced to the Master Steward who’d arrived with the Mistress, and the discussion launched into the most recent news regarding trading routes and way stations.

  As the night progressed, a very bored Baily excused himself and returned to his base and the tables were cleared. Maps appeared and the conversation shifted away from supplies to dependable local contacts. As the parchments of Aggar’s terrain were unrolled, Elana felt the startled confusion in Di’nay’s amarin. The Amazon was keenly aware of the fact that she was the first off-worlder ever to see such drawings — and Elana was proud that her shadowmate was grasping the dangers the Terran pilot Garrison presented to this delicately balanced world.

  Elana’s pride grew into astonished respect as the Amazon listened, challenging assumptions and memorizing routes. Di’nay focused on each task, intently piecing questions and answers together almost faster than Elana could fathom the need to ask. Seldom, perhaps never, had Elana seen such quickness, such absorption by a person. And as her admiration grew, so did her attraction to this handsome woman.

  Elana watched the idle tracings of those long fingers as they played with the stem of a goblet. Tonight Di’nay was her work, not the planning of the trek. The details of her world were already as familiar as her own room, but Di’nay….

  With an almost religious ferocity Elana bent her attention to this woman’s complexities. She read the intensity of that dark stare as it absorbed details, as it darted warily from the face of one council member to another. That mouth… Elana noticed the faint, controlled motion of lips as Di’nay spoke; the corners tightened slightly and drew downwards as her brow furrowed with concentration — the angular plains of her face would smooth and the mouth thin when she was displeased.

  As the
evening wore on, Elana became more and more aware of a mounting displeasure in the woman she studied.

  There was a small lull in the session as one map was exchanged for another. And with confusion, Elana paused in filling Di’nay’s water goblet. Alarm suddenly gripped her shadowmate, and hesitantly Elana placed the glass before the woman, subtly calling Di’nay’s attention to her with both action and Sight.

  An expression of smoldering fury answered her. Elana frowned in silent inquiry.

  The Council Speaker made some sound to continue and Diana turned swiftly. The man grew still, stunned by the sudden anger of his guest.

  “There is… something amiss?” The Speaker waved his hand in open query.

  Coldly her dark gaze met his. “Why me?”

  He looked confused and glanced to the Old Master and Mistress for some hint of the problem. They shook their heads in unison, acutely attending to the Amazon.

  “Why me?” Diana repeated more distinctly, rising slowly to lean across the broad table. And she took a moment to deliberately eye each Council member present. “There are hundreds of places in the Maltar’s realm for this pilot to be lost. There are hundreds of subtle, cultural disasters awaiting your world by his sheer presence. And yet you do not send a legion of your best scouts. You do not usher your trusted traders in a mass search. Instead you choose me, a lone agent of the Empire, to send in search of him. You show me scrolls the Terrans should never see. You speak of political factions that you have always hidden. What game are you playing with me?”

  The Speaker bowed his head. For a long moment he said nothing, then with a sorrowful smile, he met her angry gaze. “I had hoped you of all Imperial Peoples — as an Amazon — would understand. We are a Council. We are guides, Min Di’nay. We have no legions to send. Force — even the mere show of such potential — has never wrought the greater good in the end. Yes, there are dangers this pilot presents to our world, but the disasters of calling attention to this search are just as great. His strangeness may do us harm, yet let it be known that we, the Council, are interested in him and that strangeness will be magnified and the harm multiplied. As for yourself… do you scorn information that we might unearth and give you? Is it not to all our best interests to work together, if only for this one occasion?”