A Distant Tomorrow. Bertrice Small

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       He shook his head. “Trade is our only link, Lara.”

       As she lay in her bed that night Lara said to her crystal guardian, Ethne, I am curious as to the land on the other side of this sea.

      Then go there, Ethne replied.

      Should I? Lara wondered. And since when have you begun to give me direction again? You have been insisting I make my own decisions for some time now.

       But this is a new direction for you to take.

       Will I be protected if I go to the other side of this sea? Does magic function on that side of the sea, Ethne?

      Magic acts everywhere, Ethne responded dryly. How many times have I told you, Lara, daughter of Ilona and Swiftsword? You are protected. Wherever you go, my child, you are protected.

      Because I have a destiny. And Lara chuckled aloud.

       Ethne laughed softly, but agreed. Aye, because you have a destiny.

      But what is that destiny? Lara demanded once again.

      Follow your instincts, my child, and you will learn it. Then the flame in the little crystal flickered and banked low. Ethne had no more to say.

       Follow her instincts. Her instincts were not telling her a great deal these days, and she was becoming bored living in King Archeron’s palace. She was accustomed to being useful, and she was not useful here. But she was now extremely well rested. Four months had passed since Vartan’s murder. The Gathering was now over, and the clan families of the Outlands were preparing for winter. Did the Fiacre miss her? Did her children miss her?

       Dillon would, Lara knew. But her daughter? Anoush would have probably forgotten her by now, and would be looking to Noss as her maternal figure. Noss was a good mother. But I miss my children, Lara considered. Sometimes I hate this mysterious destiny that has taken them from me. She cried softly for a short time, and then slept restlessly.

       The next few days she spent most of her time out of doors, for she suddenly could not bear being confined within the palace. She walked the beaches for miles, and then walked back again. But for the waves and the seabirds soaring above her, all was quiet. The grassy dunes above the beach were golden with the cooler weather, but it never became truly cold here along the sea.

       One day Lara had ridden several miles from the palaces and towns of the Coastal Kings when curiosity directed her mount up into the dunes. She rode on as the dunes gave way to a wide swath of green land, and saw beyond it gently rolling hills. All of it was empty of domesticated animal, or people. There wasn’t a house or a field to be seen in any direction. Here was certainly land enough for Hetar’s burgeoning population. She wondered why it was not being utilized. Another question for Archeron to answer, she thought, stopping to gaze all around her. She turned her horse back toward the sea, and rode back to the palace. The day was becoming gray with an impending storm.

       Why was it, Lara wondered, that as each day passed she was finding far more questions than answers? She asked Archeron about the fertile lands beyond the beach.

       “We do not choose to allow strangers to inhabit our land,” he answered her.

       “But they are your fellow citizens of Hetar, my lord king,” Lara said.

       “They are people of the City and the Midlands,” Archeron replied. “Hetar’s provinces are almost equal in size. If we allowed the overflow from the City and the Midlands to come here we would lose our lands. They would crowd us out. They would want to enter our towns, and they do not understand us so they would cause difficulty. Eventually someone would learn the secret of our trading custom. They might even want to build their own boats, and sail upon the Sea of Sagitta. No. We will not allow our open land to be exploited by the folk from the City.”

       “The land lies useless. Why not farm it yourselves, and sell what you do not need to the City?” she suggested.

       Archeron shook his head. “The land has always been just the land,” he told her. “We are not farmers, Lara. We are traders.”

       Lara was astounded by his attitude. The Coastal Kings possessed great riches, and yet they had never shared these riches, nor did they want to share them. In the years since she had left the City, much had changed if the gossip was to be believed. The government was beginning to encroach upon the forest and the edges of the desert, yet here was all this unused land going to waste. She wondered if all the Coastal Kings felt the same way that Archeron did, but then, he was High King, and perhaps he was right. But it was a question she was going to ask Arcas when he arrived home.

      Chapter 4

      GAIUS PROSPERO looked across the table at his guest. His thick fingers closed about the stem of the jeweled goblet by his right hand. He lifted it to his lips, and sipped the wine within appreciatively. “So, you depart tomorrow, Arcas.”

       The young Coastal King nodded. “In the morning.”

       “And you will not forget your promise to support me in the vote before you go?” Gaius Prospero’s cold dark eyes narrowed as he looked at Arcas.

       “You have my vote, my lord,” Arcas said. “Though the council is disbanding for a recess, I will return when it reopens again.”

       Gaius Prospero nodded, satisfied. “I am told that the widow of the Outlander, Vartan of the Fiacre, is visiting with your father. It is said he is quite taken with her beauty. Lara is an ambitious girl, and now that her little orgy among the savages is over with, I suspect she looks to wed higher. The passage of years makes it impossible under our laws to enslave her again. She would even be safe in the City now. But perhaps living by the gentle sea suits her better. An old man could be tempted by such faerie beauty, and her magic could make an elder potent again. If she loved him, she might even give him a child.” He smacked his lips appreciatively. “I would have liked to have her, but I could not bring myself to squander half her value just to satisfy my lustful cock.” He chuckled.

       “Do you have spies everywhere, my lord Gaius?” Arcas asked his host dryly.

       “Everywhere,” Gaius Prospero agreed with a smirk. “I hear your father and Lara ride each afternoon along the beach. The soft earth would certainly make a good bed.”

       “It does,” Arcas answered, not showing his irritation. “I’ve taken many a girl in the dunes by the sea, my lord Gaius.” Was the smug and power hungry Master of the Merchants suggesting that his father was Lara’s lover? The thought that his father might have gotten what he could not have infuriated Arcas. A long time ago Lara was meant to be his personal Pleasure Woman, but that the Head Forester had seen her and paid an obscene sum to possess her. When Arcas had learned of Vartan’s death several months back from the ubiquitous Jonah, Gaius Prospero’s valued right hand, he had begun to consider the possibility of having Lara for his own again. Once he had told her he would never have kept her as a slave—but that had been a lie. If he could have her, he would imprison her in his apartments and never let her free. She would be only for him. For his pleasure. For his eyes alone.

       To consider that his father had gotten there before him was a thought not to be tolerated. Archeron was newly widowed of Arcas’s mother. Could he have loved Alina, and been so quick into another woman’s bed? Yes, he could, if the woman was Lara! And Gaius Prospero knew it or he wouldn’t have said it. Arcas thought the Master of the Merchants had actually enjoyed imparting the information to him. СКАЧАТЬ