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Topiara - Chapter 37
The innkeeper at the White Flower beckoned to Lyara as she came through the front door. "There's a Guide here to see you," he told her and nodded in the direction of a young man sitting alone at a table near the door.
"Thanks," she said and walked over to the Guide. "I was told that you are looking for me."
"You are Lyara?" The young man had the same dark coloring that Lyara did, but from the looks of things would stand more than a head and shoulders taller than she did.
"I wouldn't be answering the innkeeper's instructions if I weren't," she answered him. "What can I do for you?"
"Master Lyndon sent you this," he said, pulling a book from his jerkin and handing it to her. "He wanted me to make sure that you got this before you left for the south." His dark eyes sparkled with interest. "He said that you're heading into the Vryies lands."
"That's right," she acknowledged as she opened the cover and gazed at the tight and tiny writing within. Reading what it said would be a real exercise. "What is this, did he say?"
"It is the journal of a slave trader who was caught stealing and then selling children in the southern lands and even to the Vryies. He traded information for his life," the young Guide told her with a visible shudder. "Master Lyndon said that this was information that might help you in your quest."
Lyara closed the book and put out her hand. "It will," she admitted as the young Guide shook hands firmly with her. "Please give Master Lyndon my thanks for his thoughtfulness. Tell me – what's your name?"
"Lark," the young man answered immediately.
"Tell me, Lark, do you know if Iliria is back at the Guides Hall yet from her latest hire?"
Lark shook his head. "She's not," he answered, "at least, I haven't seen her in the dining hall for several weeks. Do you wish to leave a message for her?"
Lyara thought about it for a while, and then finally shook her head. "Not really. Just… tell her that I'm sorry I missed her, and that I'll see her again when I get back to Tandri."
"I will," the young man nodded. He finished his tankard of bitters and thumped it back down on the table. "I wish you a good journey, Lyara."
Lyara beckoned to the innkeeper as the young Guide vanished through the front door of the inn. "I'll have bread and cheese and a pitcher of bitters for four," she ordered firmly, putting a single piece of specie on the table in front of her that would more than pay for the food and drink.
"Yes, mistress," the innkeeper nodded solicitously, taking the now-empty tankard up. "Do you wish this delivered to the table or to your rooms?"
"Here at the table," she stated, and the innkeeper set off for the kitchens to make the arrangements she'd just called for. Lyara stared out the open door of the inn, wondering just how long it would be before Jilan came back from his latest trip to the usurer's. The four of them had settled on just how much specie they would be carrying with them when they left, and after the trip to the market purchasing supplies for the better part of the day, Jilan had still had a fairly hefty pouch to drop off.
Farranby and Sharin were probably upstairs getting most of the packing finished for the group. According to Farranby, the further south they traveled, the warmer the clime would get — so the need for extra blankets and clothing would decrease. The supplies they all had purchased in the market that day were mostly bladders of bitters and food, although Sharin had restocked her supply of healing as well as seasoning herbs and spices.
Considering that they would have to be leaving the ponies behind at the borderlands eventually, they were going to be traveling even lighter than they normally did. It was hard to imagine not needing the heavier leather jerkins and trousers, and Lyara found the idea of not needing even a heavy blanket to keep warm at night almost impossible to imagine. Farranby had made it very clear that once they got a certain distance south, they would be very glad to stop in one of the open-air markets and pick up garments made of the light filo fiber that could be woven nearly as tightly into a strong fabric as the warm silk thermals of the north had been.
She caught sight of Farranby and Sharin coming down the stairs and waved for them to come join her at the table. "Jilan's not back yet?" Sharin asked with a glance around the room.
"Not yet," Lyara shook her head.
"He is now," Farranby countered, then waved to the young aristocrat coming through the inn door. "Over here!" he called.
Jilan gave a quick nod as he followed the sound of the voice with his eyes and then moved to join his comrades. "You know, if we survive these next few weeks and manage to actually come back to Tandri, we're all going to be extremely wealthy people." He sat down when the rest did and was the first to reach for the pitcher of bitters. "Do any of you have any idea what you're going to do with all that specie?"
Sharin held her tankard out for him to fill after his own. "I'm not sure yet."
"It depends on whether I bring my daughter back with me," Farranby answered next, waiting his turn with his tankard as well, "and what condition she's in if she's with me."
Lyara put up her tankard after waiting for Jilan to fill Farranby's. "What about you?" Jilan asked when she wasn't forthcoming with an answer. "Any plans?"
Her dark eyes touched his and held them. "The future is too far away for me to see," she answered finally.
"What about you? I take it you have some ideas?" Sharin asked Jilan after taking enough of a draught of her bitters that she was no longer thirsty.
"I think I would like to endow a school to teach about the world as it is, rather than as the aristocracy would want it to be so that they can remain smug in their superiority," he replied somberly. "I don't think the illusions that are currently the fare of scholars from one end of the country to the other is doing Talandria or any of its people any real good."
"Sometimes the fantasy is easier to swallow," Farranby shook his head at the younger man. "Talandri scholars and bureaucrats have been swallowing fantasy for as long as I can remember. Convincing them to listen to reality may be a bigger task than you might imagine."
"I can't think of one scholar who would knowingly rather have fiction to the truth, Farranby – although I can understand why you might think otherwise. So I have to try – to get the truth out where it can be known," Jilan stated firmly and put his tankard down on the table and reached for the bread.
"Are we ready to leave in the morning, then?" Lyara asked, moving on to what she felt was the more important topic.
"As ready as we'll ever be," Sharin answered. "Everything's packed and ready to tie to saddles."
"We aren't on any timetable," Jilan noted, handing out healthy slabs of bread to each of his companions. "We can get a good night's rest tonight and leave whenever we're all up and about in the morning."
"There's a storm brewing in the north that will be moving in here sometime tomorrow," Farranby shook his head. "I say we make an early night of it and not sleep in. The sooner we can be on our way in the morning, the less likely we'll have to ride in the wet."
"If there's one good thing about heading south, it's that we'll soon be warm enough," Sharin grumbled good-naturedly as she sliced the cheese for each of them. "I've seen enough cold weather between here and the Varin Straits to last me a lifetime."
"Just wait," Farranby busied himself with his bread and cheese, "you'll never look at trees the same way again after you've been in the Vryies lands. Each part of the world has it's interesting…"
"Quirks?" Lyara finished for him quietly.
"You can say that again," Jilan agreed vehemently, remembering the heavy, furred attire that he and Lyara had worn in the Kauwlut Homelands that had felt amazingly good. "I'll never see snow and ice the same way I used to."
"One of these days, you're going to have to tell us all about that trip of yours," Sharin told him with open curiosity in her eyes. "Although I have to tell you, I find it hard to picture you all bundled up in furs…"
"Those furs felt damned good at the time," Jilan exclaimed emphatically. I know that it took a day or two just to get used to NOT being all bundled up again when we started back toward Tandri."
"You'll feel just as uncomfortable in your Talandri clothing when you return from the Vryies lands," Farranby announced surely. "You'll probably feel like you did when you first put on all those furs."
"Well, if we need to get up early, we'd better call it a day," Lyara announced, throwing her leg over the end of the bench and getting to her feet. "I, for one, will be glad to get out of the city again. There are just too many people here."
"Remember our agreement," Farranby reminded them all as he rose almost as quickly as Jilan. "Starting the moment we pass beyond the Tandri gates, we start speaking nothing but the Vryies tongue. We want to be fairly fluent by the time we get down there – our willingness to speak the tongue of the people will go a long ways to keeping us from ending up with darts in our backs."
"One last thing," Lyara said in a soft but strong voice that was very carefully meant to be heard only by their small group. "If we're going to be going off into strange lands where our abilities to concentrate and pay attention may mean the difference between life and death, we don't need any emotional entanglements or confusion springing up like unexpected obstacles. If you don't mind my saying so," she looked first at Farranby and Sharin, "you two need to figure our where you stand – whether you are wanting a parent-child kind of relationship or something else." She saw Sharin blush and look at the ground or the table – anywhere but at either Farranby or her – and knew she was right. But it wasn't all. "And Jilan and I will need to do something very similar – just so that you know that I'm not ignoring my own…"
"I think we all understand what you're saying," Farranby answered her in a slightly chagrined voice. He too had seen the deep blush on the face of the young woman who had grown so close to him in recent times. "Point well taken. I suggest we each take some time before sleeping to talk – maybe straighten out problems before they become problems."
Lyara finally dared look at Jilan, and she found him nodding agreement. "If this is going to be as dangerous as you and everybody think it will," he said as his eyes connected with Lyara's and held them fast, "we need to know what to expect from each other." He offered his arm to Lyara. "Shall we?"
Sharin saw Farranby mirror Jilan's offer and shyly put her hand on his arm as Lyara slipped her hand into the crook of Jilan's elbow.
Jilan released his hold on Lyara's hand the moment that the door to her room was closed behind them. "Tell me you aren't going to be changing the rules between us again," he pleaded with her with quiet vehemence.
Lyara looked up at him and shook her head slowly. "Not change the rules," she told him hesitantly, "but maybe make the parameters of our relationship a little clearer for us both."
A deep glance into those dark eyes told him that she was nervous – almost fearful. He'd hoped they'd gotten beyond that by now. "What's going on here?" he asked, taking a precarious seat on the edge of the bed to watch her not quite pace back and forth in front of him. He waited futilely for an answer for a long moment, and then reached out to snag her hand as she walked past him and pull her to a stop. "Talk to me. That's what you wanted – what you said you wanted."
"I know," Lyara glanced at him and then found herself blushing just as Sharin had down in the common room. "This is hard for me, you know…" she added.
Jilan pulled on the hand he'd caught and pulled her just a little closer – until she finally relented and perched next to him just as precariously as he. "I thought – I hoped – that by now you'd know that I have no intentions of ever hurting you."
"I know you'd never do it on purpose," she admitted.
"Then what? Gods, Lyara, you're acting almost the same way you did after our trip to the Kauwlut Homelands." He gazed intently into her face. "This is also part of what has had you bothered ever since you came back from Master Lyndon's – when you got that letter from the Oracle. Is that part of it?"
"Yes," she answered in a whisper.
"What did the letter say that bothered you so?"
She hesitated once more, wondering whether it was wise to reveal what the Oracle said. Would he hate her then? But if he found out she'd kept it from him… "It said that if I was reading it, that I'd returned safely – and that I'd found the mate to my powerstone…"
"Well, that's just truth," Jilan tossed out in minor frustration, his brows furling together.
"AND my own," she finished.
"Your own what?"
"Mate," she answered and looked down at her hands.
Jilan took one of those hands very carefully in his. "Like I said," he stated softly and gently, "that's just truth. I'm not pushing for more than you're ready to handle, but I figured that you'd know by now that I'm pretty well committed here – to you, to US."
"This wasn't the first letter I got," she admitted, the confession bursting from her. "I knew when I went after Vinzen that the real prize was the flute you carry now. The letter told me that I'd know when I'd met the one meant to possess the flute – and that I would meet and travel with that person, and that we were to stay together and care for each other. It said that we were chosen for a task that must be done every thousand years or so…"
"So, our meeting was pre-ordained? Is that what you're saying?" Jilan looked totally confused now.
"We are carrying the power that is responsible for choosing the next Oracle – the one who is to take Nilyaron's place."
"Lyara," Jilan began, rising and doing his own pacing in front of her for a change. "What does this have to do with…"
"I could feel the flute calling when we were in the fortress on the island – I knew when I called you over to look in that one box what it was that you would find. Topiara came to me, I thought at the time, by accident – but I chose you to find Rompalin."
Jilan stared at her, and the flute that occupied the small leather pouch at his chest warmed and flashed the scene Lyara was talking about. He shook his head as the abrupt vision died away. "I still…"
Lyara's face was openly distressed. "In this last letter, Nilyaron calls you my mate – just as he called Rompalin the mate of Topiara. He tells me that his successor is the prize that I am sent to bring back with me this time – but that I must protect everything I've received both from dangers from without as well as my own emotions." She finally looked at Jilan directly.
"A man should be allowed to choose his own life's path, knowing everything he can ahead of time. I have stolen some of that from you – made choices for you rather than allowing you to make them yourself." She took a deep breath. "If we are truly to be mates, I can't allow that to continue. You need to know… everything… and decide that you still want to be with me anyway."
Jilan sat back down on the bed, this time a little closer to Lyara, and put a careful arm about her shoulders. "Haven't you noticed that I pretty much forced myself on you after we got back from the North? You tried to push me away, and it was I who wouldn't let you. No matter what the Oracle said, you aren't the one who's been doing the chasing in this relationship."
"I want… to believe…" Lyara stumbled over her words. "I want…"
He put a gentle hand to her cheek and felt her nestle her face against his palm. "What do you want, Lyara? Just say it."
The dark eyes bored holes into his soul. "I want you," she said after she'd worked up the nerve to put her feelings into words.
The smile that began to spread across Jilan's face was warm. "You already know that I've wanted you for a very long time," he told her and pulled her so that he could give her the softest of kisses. "And while I appreciate you're worries about your having stolen some of my autonomy in this, I'd have to disagree with you. I'm here because I want to be – I was going through the boxes in Vinzen's storage room because I wanted to, and having Rompalin in the back of my head isn't something I resent having been a decision that you made."
Topiara finally warmed on Lyara's breast and whispered softly in the back corners of her mind, trying to relieve worries. But then Jilan bent down and kissed her again, and all ability to pay attention to the whisperings of her power stone were swept away by the passion that Jilan had been holding back but would no longer deny. This kiss was more powerful and moving than any of his previous caresses, making her giddy and breathless at the same time. Slowly her arm wound its way around his waist as he sat next to her.
Eventually their kiss ended, and Jilan held Lyara very close to him so that she could rest her forehead against his shoulder. "Does that tell you what you want to know?" he asked her once he had his breath back enough to be intelligible.
"I have only one question," she replied, finding the warmth and security of Jilan's arms more than just comforting for a change. They represented something that she'd wanted for the better part of her life: a place that was hers and hers alone. Unafraid now of his reactions, she lifted her head to look into his eyes. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
"Be sure, Lyara," he answered her, his heart in his eyes. "We won't be able to take this back again if you suddenly decide to worry that you've made a mistake…" He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. "We'd be giving our hearts to the other – that's not something we can or should do lightly."
"I'm sure," she told him. "And I want this established between us before we leave. When we go into the Vryies lands, I don't want there to be any question as to what you are to me – or I am to you."
Jilan's arms tightened, and he bent to kiss her again. It was a dream come true – to have Lyara in his arms and ready to take this very final step. This night would have none of the fancy ritual that would normally accompany such an event in normal aristocratic society, but the bonds they would forge would be no less permanent. He felt the moment to be no less sacred and solemn without the chanting priests and incense and congratulatory relatives downstairs still celebrating the bonding. And when the morning came, he was determined that neither of them would ever need to question the exact nature of their relationship again.
He'd found his mate – the one his father had long despaired that he'd ever find – and tonight he would make her irrevocably his.
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