Fealty: Part VI

"Yarrow, for Fire's sake, can't you sit still! That infernal pacing of yours is distracting. Do sit, or come join me in here." Mornaur, Lord of Tol Dolen, lounged in the warm waters of the tiled pool and waited for his elven ally to reply. Yarrow stopped as if considering doing as Mornuar bade. Then he glanced at the woman in the pool with the dragon lord and shook his head, beginning to pace once more. The woman gave a low laugh at his discomfiture. Mornaur was less amused.

"Alright! What is it, elf? We're safe here on Tol Dolen for the moment. If your nephew knows we were here, he still has to sail back, since I've set wards against the Road. That would take weeks, so stop worrying."

"I know that!" Yarrow shot back." It's not Iannon. Do you seriously think he frightens me? "

"Then what the blazes is it?"

"It's MidWinter and…"

Mornaur's eyes narrowed. "Elf, if you break into some song and prance all about the place, I'll gut you like a fish." There was faint gasp from his lady companion. "Truth be told, it's what made me start hating your kind in the beginning. All that noise." He turned to the woman. "Could you get my calves? That's a love." . The servant smiled, then dove beneath the water, her tail rising up out of the water to smack the surface, and not coincidentally splash some at Yarrow. The elf wiped a few drops off his face.

"How can you stand to be so close to that creature?"

"If you stop to think of it, she's a distant relation of sorts." The mermaid's head popped back up and she nodded as Mornaur waved dismissal and climbed out to wrap himself in a large towel. "Besides, she works for scale. Alright, so if it's not worry over pursuit by a vengeful Blackthorn that has you wearing a hole in the tiles, what is it?"

"It's MidWinter-"

"You said that already."

"-and my brother is very happy."

"He is? Why, the nerve! More singing and dancing?"

Yarrow scowled, then took a seat in the ancient Greek styled chair opposite Mornaur's couch. "It's more than that. Ashe has blocked me off from MindSpeak with him, but we are still twins. There's a soulbond there, and strong emotions still get through to me, no matter how he tries to separate himself. He's happy."

Mornaur regarded his ally closely. "Is this such a bad thing? Does it change anything in your plans?"

"No. I still intend to have my vengeance on Blackthorn. Why, has something happened to change yours? This wasn't your fight to begin with, Mornaur."

The dragon lord picked up a cup of wine and stared into it before answering. "It became mine when your impudent nephew breached my defenses and dared to invade my home looking for you and those wretched girls. No, nothing has changed for me." He took a swallow of wine. "So tell me, does this bond with Ashevathallion give you the reason for his joyous state?"

"No. All I can feel are his emotions. I'm in the dark as to what has caused it." Yarrow looked at his hands, not daring to look up, afraid Mornaur would catch him in the lie. He'd had dreams the last few nights in which he'd seen the face of an elven woman, a Sithryn elf, and had woken with the knowledge he'd shared those dreams with his twin. Ashe was in love. Despite the alienation between them, Yarrow was genuinely happy for his brother. And he would do nothing to jeopardize that joy.

Nothing, if he could help it.

Aware suddenly that he'd been silent for at least a minute, he looked up to catch Mornaur studying him. "I've heard from my agent. Our little ruse failed."

"It was a gamble, `vathallion. My agent planted many seeds of doubt and mistrust in the young human's ear when they met, but even you must admit that a few days conversation as they traveled to Camelot was not enough time to ensure our plan would succeed. Patience, elf. When we strike, it will be on a more personal level, and it will be at more than just your grand-nephew." He rubbed the large scar on his neck, a memento of the fight at the Mirror. "We wait for some opportunity to present itself, and capitalize on it when it does. Pretend you are watching a tree grow. Patience!"

*********

Ian swore softly in exasperation as he read the note in his hands. Even written in haste Xan's elegant handwriting was unmistakable. How it must have torn at her to send this message!

"What is it, Ian?" Skye leaned over the back of his chair to read Xan's letter. "Oh, Ian! How will Ascellon find Stephan now?"

"I don't know love." He took her hand to kiss it, then stopped as he caught the scent of herbs on her hands. "Or maybe I do. Ibrahim has dealings with many merchants in Toledo with connections all over the East."

"Do you think he can find out where Stephan's ship is bound?"

Ian folded the letter back up and twisted around in the chair to look gravely up at his wife. "It might take awhile. We've no ship name, nor that of the spice merchant to whom he is indentured, but Ibrahim will do his best. Meanwhile, what we need, my love, is patience."