Maya rounded on Hellorin like a tigress. “You treacherous snake,” she spat.
“You slimy son of a pox-ridden harlot! To think I once called you father.”
Hellorin smiled at her. “Maya, you are a pure delight. You never change.”
“And neither do you,” Maya growled. “You were a heartless, murdering butcher then and you’re still one now.” Seeing her hands clench into fists, D’arvan stepped up quickly and put an arm around her shoulders before she could do something stupid in her rage.
“It’s always nice to be appreciated.” Hellorin made her a mocking bow, and headed for the door. “D’arvan—I leave it to you to explain the bargain you made. My presence seems to be upsetting your Mortals.” With that he was gone.
“Your Mortals?” Maya turned to D’arvan, a dangerous glint in her eye; then, just as abruptly, she hugged him. “Thank the Gods you’re all right,” she muttered into his shoulder. “When they brought us up here I didn’t know what to expect.”
“We still don’t know what to expect.” Parric, ashen-faced, was looking down at Vannor. “What in the name of perdition have they done to him?”
D’arvan sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “According to Hellorin, the Phaerie haven’t done anything to him. They found him like that the morning after they captured him.”
“Rubbish!” Parric snapped. “No one gets a face like that for no reason.”
Maya walked to Vannor’s side, and laid a tentative hand on his shoulder, beneath the bird’s-nest mane of shaggy grey hair. “Vannor?” Frowning, she touched his face, but he showed not the slightest flicker of reaction.
“Listen to me—both of you.” D’arvan took command. “Never mind Vannor for a minute, we’ll talk about him presently. Sit down and have some wine. We have to talk, the three of us.” He took a deep breath, wondering how he could break the news to his beloved. “There’s no gentle way to tell you this,” he said at last. “Hellorin demands that I stay here, and take up my duties as his son.”
“What?” Maya shouted. “But you can’t! What about Aurian?”
“I have no choice, my love,” the Mage told her flatly. “Already, the other slaves must have told you the significance of that chain you wear. My father is using you as a hostage for my cooperation. If I don’t obey him, he’ll kill you.”
For a long moment, a variety of emotions chased across Maya’s face: shock, indignation, and rage being paramount. Then, as the horrified silence stretched out between the three of them, D’arvan saw her brows knot together in thought. She looked up at him. “If Hellorin kills me,” she said slowly, “then he’ll no longer have any hold on you. You can go back and help Aurian.”
The Mage could read the other thought in her mind, the one she had not spoken aloud, as clearly as if it were written on her face. And if I kill myself, D’arvan will be free. Striving not to panic, knowing that his next words would decide the matter and desperate to convince her, he reached out and took her hands in his own. “Maya,” he said gently, “try not to be hasty. Just listen with an open mind to what I have to say. . . . I’ve spent a long and wearisome day wrangling with my father over this matter. He’s more stubborn than the most mule-headed Mage, but I finally managed to wring some concessions from him—so long as the two of us consent to stay.”
“This had better be good,” Maya growled.
“It’s better than nothing—which was what he originally offered me.” D’arvan squeezed her hands tightly. “I wanted him to liberate the Nexians, but he refused outright. He will, however, release Parric and Vannor to go back and help Aurian ... if I can manage to free Vannor from his evil trance, that is.”
“Is that all?” Maya bristled. “I can’t say I’m very impressed so far, with your father’s magnanimity.”
D’arvan, however, looked across at Parric and saw his eyes burning with a fierce, joyous, desperate light. Too proud to plead, too levelheaded to influence the discussion with an emotional appeal, the Cavalrymaster was rigid with the effort to keep silent—but his heart was in his eyes.
“There’s more,” D’arvan told Maya hastily. “Again, I wanted Hellorin to let the Xandim return to human form—but there was no chance of that. Frankly, he’d rather lose the Nexians.
He said, however, that he would agree to disenchant Chiamh and Schiannath, and let them return with Parric.”
“My, how generous,” Maya said bitterly. “And dare I ask what your father wants in return for these great favors? Am I to remain a slave for the rest of my life? There’s something you’re not telling me—I know it.”
“Well, he says he’ll remove your chain eventually”—D’arvan prudently stepped back out of striking range—“as soon as we produce a son together.”
“He what?” Unexpectedly, Maya burst out laughing, but D’arvan could sense that her control was very close to the edge. “Why?” she demanded. “What in the name of perdition does an immortal, all-powerful magical being want with a bloody heir?”
“He wants to extend his realm.”
Maya’s laughter ceased abruptly.
“Hellorin wants the Phaerie to rule the entire northern continent,” D’arvan went on into the ensuing silence. “He wants scions of his own blood to wield power in his name in various regions—that way he feels he’ll have better control over the fractious Mortals.”
Narrow-eyed, Parric looked at the Mage with suspicion and undisguised hostility. “And just where do you fit into this grand scheme?” he asked coldly.
D’arvan sighed. He had been dreading this moment. “He wants me to rule Nexis,” he answered quietly.
Parric kicked the wall of the shelter as hard as he dared with his bare toes.
“That traitor! That thrice-damned backstabbing chickenhearted turncoat! I might have known we couldn’t trust a bloody Mage!”
“For the last time, Parric—will you shut up?” Maya snarled. “If you hadn’t created such an uproar and brought the guards down on us, you fool, we’d have had a chance to discuss it with him.”
“What’s to discuss? At heart he’s nothing but another power-hungry tyrant—just like the rest of his ilk.”
“Like Aurian, you mean?” For a moment Maya actually thought he would strike her. She had never seen such rage on Parric’s face. But though she had felt equally betrayed by D’arvan when he had broken the news to her, she now felt a perverse need to defend her lover in the face of Parric’s virulent attack.—Controlling himself with difficulty, the Cavalrymaster turned away in disgust.
“How can you stand there and say that?” he asked in tones of biting contempt.
“Unlike your precious Phaerie stud, I never saw Aurian try to enslave an entire race.”
“It wasn’t his idea!” Maya shouted. “You heard what he said—Hellorin will enslave us anyway! D’arvan was trying to give us a chance....” Her voice trailed away into silence as she was struck by the inadvertent truth of her own words.
Licia, an unwilling spectator to the quarrel, seized the moment. “Parric, I want you to leave, please. Now. You can continue your discussion later, when tempers have cooled.”
“Gladly. I’ve had enough of listening to this Phaerie-loving garbage in any case.” With one last venomous glare at Maya, Parric stamped out of the shelter, muttering imprecations and pushing his way roughly through the knot of curious bystanders who had gathered near the door.
Maya stood like a statue in the center of the room, one hand lifted to her lips, her eyes turned inward, blind to her surroundings. “D’arvan is our only chance,” she murmured softly. “Our one slim chance to beat Hellorin at his own game . . .” So deep in thought was she that she barely noticed when the lacemaker tiptoed out.
“Please ... I must see Lord D’arvan.” Maya tried to conceal her annoyance as the guards at the gate looked down their noses at her. Try to look respectful, at least—for your own sake, she told herself. She had by no means forgotten the blow they had given her earlier.