Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Read online

  Her mouth felt dry as Diana asked, “What do you think on sharing this bed?”

  “You are my Shadowmate, whether here or traveling I may share your bed.”

  Diana found herself disbelieving the response. Then the thought flitted through her mind that the rarity of her kind here might be to blame. The girl might simply not know. She swallowed uncomfortably. Amazons were such common knowledge in the Empire that she did not have much practice in this. “Elana, you know I am from another world&hellip:?”

  “You are an Amazon.”

  “Do you know what that means?”

  Di’nay’s amarin were so overwhelmingly clear that Elana did not hesitate. “You are a woman who loves women.”

  “You’re not frightened by this?”

  Her heart jumped in her chest and her breath shortened, but Elana was old enough to know it was not from fear. “Why should I fear you, Di’nay?”

  With amusement Diana admitted, “In bed, many would fear what I would do instead of sleeping.”

  Elana turned back to the fire. “With you, I would not fear that either.”

  Despite her weariness the adrenaline shot through her veins. Spoken like a true Shadow, Diana thought with an icy sarcasm. In the end patience and fatigue won over her temper, and she promised herself that she’d face that problem when and if it materialized. She sighed and reached down to pull off the flimsy, indoor boots.

  Elana brightened the lamp centered in the wall above their bed to compensate for the dampened fire, asking, “Will you be warm enough?”

  “…be fine,” Diana mumbled as she drew her tunic over her head. And tomorrow she would be. Tomorrow she’d climb into her fieldsuit to stay warm and toasty, and she’d be fine all day long. Beyond that she refused to think right now. She tugged on her nightshirt.

  What was it that had brought her here anyway? Travel — fly — see the Universe — if they’d only told her then, that she’d still be here….

  And Elana? As she slipped under the linen sheets, Diana wondered what the local propaganda was about Shadows. She rolled over to find Elana naked, sitting cross-legged on the bed. A lump closed her throat. The woman was struggling with the knotted hair ribbons, her braid already undone. Unbidden, despite her fatigue, Diana felt desire stir again.

  She swallowed, quietly managing, “Do you need help?”

  “No thank you.” Elana tossed a smile at her absently. A ribbon slipped and then finally gave. Elana sighed in victory. “It seems each woman ties a different sort of knot. And on every occasion I find someone new is helping.”

  “A problem I’ve never had.” Diana chuckled despite herself. Elana picked up a comb and Diana noticed the wide bands that were still laced around the woman’s wrists. Gently she reached out, tapping a wrist piece. “These are pretty.” A finger traced the floral pattern at the edges of the black leather. “You always wear them?”

  With a half-nod Elana moved reluctantly from the curious touch to comb out her hair. “Now I do. The lifestone is hidden under the left one. It is still healing. After tomorrow it will be well, but — ”

  “But?”

  “It’s less conspicuous to wear these than display the stone.”

  Diana nodded. Then she smiled suddenly. “And how about you?”

  “Me?” Elana fastened her hair back with a leather band that was very like her wristbands.

  “I seem to have been asking a great many things this night. What about yourself? Do you have any questions for me?”

  Thoughtfully the young woman tightened the laces of the hair band and considered the evening. Finally, seriously, she turned and asked, “What is tan?”

  Surprised, Diana laughed. Of all things, it was the last she had expected. She sat upright in bed and opened a few more buttons on her nightshirt, pointing to her neck where it had been browned by the wind and sun, “This is tan.” She pointed to her breast and sternum. “This is the color my skin usually is. White Terrans change color after their skin is exposed to the sun. The rays change the pigment’s color.”

  “But you are not Terran. Or no?”

  “No,” she repeated slowly. “But my people’s ancestors were Terrans. A very long time ago.”

  Elana digested that before: “Terrans are not all pale?”

  “No. Many are brown — as dark as your people become from excitement or exertion. I’m told the skin substance of both your folk and ours is similar chemically, with the one exception that yours responds to emotion.”

  “Then you have dark Amazons as well?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Your Commander Baily wished to honor me by saying that I was tan. He doesn’t know we of Aggar do not brown from the sun but when — aroused?”

  “In some parts, tanned Terrans are considered fashionable and the reference is considered a compliment. He is from one of those places.”

  “But it is in your records that we of Aggar brown due to emotion and exertion. Has Commander Baily not seen these reports?”

  Diana dimmed the oil lamp above their bed to a low, warm glow, saying, “Thomas is a fool, Elana. He knows but persists in his Terran customs. He’s not worth understanding.”

  “Perhaps so,” Elana agreed, settling down into the linens and furs, “if he has been here more than four tenmoons and is still so poorly informed.”

  That Elana knew what the records held about how long Thomas had been assigned to Aggar was a surprising bit of information, Diana thought. But right now she was much too tired to worry and the bed was surprisingly comfortable.

  “May your dreams be smiling, Di’nay,” Elana wished her softly and turned to her side.

  “And yours,” Diana murmured, a fond curve suddenly touching her lips. She had never truly enjoyed sleeping alone.

  † † †

  Chapter Nine

  Unsettled, Elana blinked and awoke from a deep sleep. She was annoyed at her sluggishness as she forced herself to full awareness until she remembered the bonding and the woman that lay next to her. It was to be expected that she would sleep heavier for a day or two. Steeling herself against the necessity of moving, Elana slid sideways. As her feet hit the floor her hands hastily sought the knitted undergarments. Something was not as planned. Without disturbing her companion, Elana pulled on her soft suede breeches and left.

  She moved soundlessly down the corridors, her feet bare except for the stirrups of her knit tights. The stone beneath her toes was cold — a barren cold, so she quickened her steps until she came to the walkway above the vast Entrance Hall. She halted, still in the shadows. The wood underfoot greeted her with its familiar strength of aged life. Unconsciously she absorbed its touch and her body relaxed, drinking in the sweetened power. She took in the scene below — a traveler stood within arm’s reach of the entry way. The massive doors were still open behind him.

  Dropping to a crouch, she crossed the width of the balcony. The visitor glanced about apprehensively, but Blue Sight and training were well meshed in the woman; the man literally looked right through her.

  Her senses strained to hear the curt exchanges between the two boys on watch and the stranger. Abruptly the man shouted an obscenity, silencing them both. His muddied, gloved hands pushed the youngest towards the inner doors, and Elana glimpsed a thick scroll in the boy’s clasp as he darted off.

  As the man turned to leave, Elana saw a flash of the maroon and gold of the vest beneath his cloak — Maltar’s man. He paused as the older boy rushed forward to say something. To do him credit, the lad adroitly placed himself between the stranger and the door, desperately buying time, Elana knew, until a Master and Seer could arrive. She suddenly realized that this was exactly what the soldier was fearing. He turned again, searching the hall. She frowned, irritated. The distance was too great to lock eyes and wrest the anxious secrets from him. There was something of paramount importance that he knew and that the Council was not to know.

  Her second glance at his face burned its details into her memory as he str
uck the boy from his path. The door shut with a reverberating thud that made the wood she crouched upon ache with a pain equal to that in the boy’s thin frame. Elana straightened, disappearing into the stone hallways. This time she headed for the stables.

  There would be time enough to report to the Mistress and Council Speaker. Her first duties now were to Di’nay, and they were to leave before dawn.

  The black mud caking the clothing of the soldier she had just observed had held the amarin of the river. That meant he had ridden hard this very night or he would have had the time to brush the garments clean. The short, black beard that had lined only the edges of his jaw and mouth had been too immaculately trimmed to suggest the man would have uncaringly cantered about the countryside muddied. Beneath the anxiety, his own amarin had shimmered of exhaustion. That meant if she and Di’nay hurried, the trail would be fresh to follow. She quickened her pace; they would need their mounts and supplies sooner than dawn.

  The Keep was much more active now than when Elana had descended into the stables. The Seers were already gathering, and the spiced wine was brewing again. It had been strange that no one had known of the soldier’s coming, Elana thought, yet she knew that the Wine of Decision often rendered its users impotent in more ways than one. The Council was assembling in full too, but Elana was not prepared to meet them. She made herself unnoticeable and moved across the open balcony.

  “A little chilly to the bootless,” Diana commented matter-of-factly as Elana stepped into their room.

  “Not too bad.” Elana’s tone was also matter-of fact as she settled on the side of the bed to pull on her stockings and boots. She noticed Di’nay was already dressed.

  “What’s everyone concerned about?” Diana asked, tying her pack together.

  “The Council is reviewing a newly-delivered scroll. I do not know what they intend to do other than inform us of the contents — eventually.”

  “Eventually?” Diana repeated with a lift of her brow. She thought she’d detected a hint of disapproval.

  Elana donned her tunic, smiling. “They have been known to deliberate overly long on minor points.”

  With an amused chuckle, Diana folded her arms and leaned against the bedpost. “Do you know what this ‘minor point’ is?”

  “No.” Elana wrapped the soft belt about the waist of her jerkin. “The messenger, however, was from Maltar. He’d been riding hard and was anxious not to meet a Seer. I suspect that he knows about the crash.”

  “You saw this messenger?”

  “Briefly. He was too far away for me to catch his eye.”

  Inwardly Diana balked at the implications indicating Elana’s power, but said only, “Wager metal to rock his errand is about Garrison. It seems our worst fear is about to be realized. Garrison’s been found by the Maltar sovereign.”

  “So it appears.”

  Complications already, Diana groaned inwardly. “Yet this fellow you saw couldn’t have come from the Maltar’s court. Garrison only crashed at darkfall two days ago. It would have taken the man ten-days of travel to reach here.”

  Elana nodded, pulling the last of her pack together. “Most likely he’s from one of Maltar’s spy rings here in the Ramains. The Maltar probably sent orders by messenger hawk to these men.”

  “He was not alone?” “He was wearing the maroon and gold colors. He would not travel alone here in the Ramains in such a uniform. The Ramains King is not quite that tolerant.” Elana shook her head slightly. “But what he was hiding…?”

  “Garrison is being held,” Diana said abruptly. “Either the man knows or he’s certain he has a comrade who does.”

  “But how would he know? The Council doesn’t even know, Di’nay. There are a dozen and a half military outposts in the Maltar’s realm and — ”

  “By the hawk and the hawker’s colors.”

  “In truth…,” Elana breathed, the pieces suddenly falling into place. The ownership tag on the messenger hawk would mark the region where the Maltar issued his orders. Even if it was a secretive clan, the hawkers within the group would recognize their own tags. Although it was unlikely that Garrison had actually crashed in the Maltar’s lap, it was also unlikely that the ruling gentleman would go to Garrison. Garrison would have been brought to the Maltar — to the region the monarc had dispatched his message from — to the region designated by the hawker’s colors.

  “There is no assurance,” Elana murmured, “that the Maltar will not move the pilot once he has seen him.”

  “But it is a place to start.” Diana nodded with a grim satisfaction. “And I would rather search every military stronghold in Maltar on the premise that he’s been found than search every league of wilderness. So — it would appear we have a choice.”

  Elana looked at her quizzically.

  “Either we can snatch this messenger fellow you glimpsed tonight and find what he knows, or we can be a little more subtle and follow him back to his own roost. There we’d locate his trusted hawker and know for certain the hawker will have the information we want.”

  “If we overtake the messenger on the trail, he will have comrades.”

  “The more people that guess we’re looking for the hawk’s roost, the more warnings the Maltar might get.” Diana shrugged. “Personally, I usually prefer quiet stealth and patience to a frontal assault. But then, I’ve always worked alone.”

  “And I am a Shadow,” Elana reminded her quietly. “I know very well the value of patience and stealth.”

  “Good enough — we’ll trail him to his hawker.” Diana straightened. “Shall we go see if this Maltar’s message truly does concern our Garrison?”

  Diana’s eyes flickered over Elana as she shouldered her pack. The cascading length of her bound hair was caught under the shoulder strap, its dark color gleaming in the lamplight. The green jerkin matched the laced suede of Elana’s boots; and although the green-brown leather of her breeches was loose, to Diana’s practiced eye the fit still very much bespoke the woman’s figure beneath it.

  “I see we’re going as twins.” Diana half-smiled. Did anyone really believe she looked like that?

  Elana returned the smile. “I am a little short.”

  “And your hair’s a little too long.” Diana pulled wryly at her own brown strands. “No — won’t stretch.”

  She was rewarded with a laugh. Elana assured her, “I’d not expected it would.”

  Diana turned somewhat abruptly on the pretense of fetching her pack and cloak. Something was suddenly feeling very wrong. It was not her place to be entertaining this woman. But her pleasure at… Diana suddenly saw just how much she had wanted to bring forth that smile.

  Don’t get hooked, Diana n’Athena. Don’t you dare get hooked!

  “My hair can be cut,” Elana offered, hastily, breaking the stretching silence. Di’nay’s sudden abruptness alarmed her. “If you think the length is inappropriate? Or find it displeasing?”

  “What?” Diana snapped from her thoughts and shouldered her pack. “No, it’s fine the way it is. Let’s find your Council Speaker and get out of here.”

  Elana pulled her cloak from the door peg and sighed at the retreating figure. Somehow Di’nay’s words had not been so very reassuring.

  † † †

  “It means the scoundrel does not know what he holds,” the Mistress muttered as she walked beside Diana. She and the young Council Speaker were escorting the two women to their horses.

  “There is the possibility,” the Speaker mused, “that Maltar may never understand this pilot is an off-worlder.”

  “Then he obviously wouldn’t have seen his craft,” Diana said. “With luck it was burned up in the atmosphere or it disintegrated on contact.”

  “He ‘descended from the sky on a cloud of white cloth’ or so the parchment reports,” the Speaker agreed.

  Diana wondered if it had been a parachute.

  “The Maltar is assuming Garrison is one of our more ‘supernatural’ spies. I expect he thinks his magicia
n rooted out the poor fellow. Maltar’s asking for forty load of refined iron and twenty of bronze.”

  A low whistle pushed between Diana’s teeth. It was a small fortune they were demanding. “Are you certain they don’t know who he is?”

  “For now. You could pay it outright.”

  “Certainly,” Diana scoffed, “and have the lot of us shot in the back as we leave his outpost?”

  “Not to mention the Empire’s standing edict forbidding ransom negotiations,” murmured the Council Speaker.

  “Yes,” the Old Mistress nodded, “and the threat this pilot presents Aggar will not be eased if he should elude the Maltar’s assassins only to become a captive within another tribe or fortress.”

  Diana glanced behind her, searching for Elana. The woman lengthened her step to draw abreast, remembering the Amazon preferred her to be more prominent.

  “What do you suggest?” Diana asked her.

  “My thoughts have not changed. Find the messenger’s hawker. From him find from where in Maltar’s lands the bird came; then search for your pilot in that area.”

  “The ransom request changes nothing?”

  A faint shrug rippled the green cloak and shifted the pack beneath it. “Maltar has seldom honored such bribes in his family’s history.”

  “What are the chances of him sitting on his prize and not questioning Garrison too closely?” Diana asked, turning again to the Mistress.

  “It is more likely that he will inadvertently kill your pilot in an interrogation. He does not truly expect us to bargain. We never have in the past. In telling us of his new captive, he merely gloats over his prize.”

  “I’m liking this fellow less and less.”

  “You are still biased,” the elder bit out grimly. “When you know him better, you’ll loath him. Loath him… yet beware of him.”

  Diana glanced at her sharply. “Have you a personal grudge against this king, Mistress?”

  “Very personal, child. He executed my husband.”