Just then Eeda hurried into the chamber, pale and obviously in great pain. "Forgive me, lord husband,"
she said, "but our child is coming!"
The news badly shook Coralean and he instantly swept Eeda off her feet into his arms. "We must find a midwife," he cried.
"Nay, nay, lord husband," Eeda said. "I can do this myself-if you will help me."
"Of course I'll help," Coralean said, voice weak. "What shall I do?"
"The child's birth can help the spell," Eeda said. "So, please, just place me on the floor. And let me-and your coming son-do our magic."
Inside Iraj, Safar quickly caught Eeda's intention. He rose up out of his nest, urging Protarus to wait until the proper moment. Eeda's bravery also broke through Palimak's reserve and he, too, whispered for Iraj to hold.
Coralean placed Eeda gently on the floor and ran to fetch pillows and blankets to make her more comfortable. As he pushed pillows under her, she cried out, gripping his hand fiercely.
Then she shouted, "He's coming, lord husband! He's coming!"
As she writhed in the throes of birth agony, Safar gave the signal for the spell-casting to commence.
And drawing on all of Palimak's powers, along with those of the Favorites, then combining them with Eeda's magic, Safar forged these spellwords:
"Eight winds blow, eight winds bend;
Is it life or death these winds portend?
And where hides the Viper of the Rose?
And what dread secrets shall we expose?
Into the Hells, our souls cast forth,
East and west, south and north.
North and south, east and west.
The gods awaken, ah, there's the test!"
Through Iraj's eyes, Safar saw Eeda jump as if she'd been struck with a lightning bolt. Then Coralean was holding up a bloody, crying little thing.
And then the whole floor gave away beneath Khysmet and Safar found himself falling through darkness toward a great, fiery light.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Rhodes was so intent on his daughter's charge that he didn't notice the airship soar out of the castle grounds. Jooli was sprinting toward his command post, smashing through every defense and cutting down every man that got in her way.
Her shrill war cry ululated up the hill, making his blood run cold. Even though she was still at a great distance, he believed he could see the fury and hate in her eyes. All concentrated on her father.
Running with her, the Kyranian troops were also taking a terrible toll on his men. And although he knew Jooli was only prolonging the inevitable-and his trap would close any second-the ferocity of her attack struck fear into his heart.
Brave though he was, Rhodes was so guilt-ridden by his treatment of his own flesh that for a moment he imagined her hot vengeful blade plunging into his breast.
"Get her! Get her! Get her!" he shouted to his officers.
Panicked by their king's hysteria, they ran around shouting confused orders to their underlings.
Only Tabusir kept his head. He walked quickly but purposefully to Clayre's litter. The spy had a duty to perform that he was looking forward to eagerly.
Clayre saw him coming and smiled a thin smile. Although she not only distrusted Tabusir and disliked him intensely, she'd been worried for some time now that her son was playing her false.
Her mind constantly ran wild with conspiratorial possibilities. Foremost among them was that Rhodes might make a last-minute alliance with her granddaughter, Jooli, and that the two of them would turn against her.
And even if this possibility was only the product of a fevered imagination, what if that was how it turned out? No matter their bitter past history, they were still father and daughter.
If Jooli survived her father's trap and struck a bargain with him Clayre had no illusions about what would happen next. A powerful witch, as well as a superb warrior, Jooli would make certain her grandmother didn't survive the day.
As guilt-ridden as her son over her treatment of Jooli, Clayre became fearfully obsessed with her granddaughter's intentions.
She had to be sure, no matter what the cost.
And so during the storm she'd sent for Tabusir, that most corruptible of corrupt men, and had dazzled him with gold and seductive promises.
Clayre was a beautiful woman and a rich woman who had years of practice in all forms of seduction.
She'd only needed a little gold and a few hot-blooded hints of pleasures to come to convince the spy to join her.
And now she was not disappointed when the moment of Jooli's death neared and Tabusir came to her just as they'd planned.
When she saw him, she quickly turned her thin smile of satisfaction into one of erotic warmth. And she bedazzled him with her beauty as he dropped to his knees and made suitable gestures of loyalty and obedience.
"You are such a pretty fellow," she murmured to him in her most alluring tones. "Kneeling there so handsomely before me you fair make my poor heart leap."
Tabusir knocked his head against the ground, saying, "I am but a man, Majesty. A worshipful man, burning with love for you. If only I dared take you in my arms and kiss you!"
"Soon, my handsome one, soon," Clayre said, only partly lying. "Pray be patient. For I yearn for you as much as you yearn for me."
Then she drew the spy up, looking full into his eyes. Delighting at her effect on him as he seemed to quiver and quake with desire.
She drew a long tube from her bodice and handed it to him. "I've made this for my son," she said.
And he pulled the two halves apart, revealing a sharp dart. Tabusir started to test the point with his finger, but she stopped him, saying, "Don't touch the point, my dear. It's poisoned, you know."
With a brisk intake of breath, Tabusir snatched his fingers away just in time. He glanced down and saw that the needle-point of the dart was smeared with a yellowish paste.
"One prick of the dart will do," Clayre said. She pointed down the hill, where Jooli and the Kyranians were hammering their way through her son's lines.
"If my granddaughter should win through," she said, "there's a good chance she'll try to turn my son against me. If this happens, you only need to get close enough to the king to throw the dart.
"It won't kill him, for, as I told you last night, that is not my desire. But it will immobilize him-freeze his body and his will-until we decide what to do with him."
Tabusir examined the dart closely. Marveling at its handworked design. The Lady Lottyr's face had been carved on one side. And the needle's shaft had been lovingly stropped many times before the poison was applied.
"But what of Queen Jooli?" Tabusir asked. "Even if we remove your son, she'll still be a threat."
"Never mind Jooli," Clayre said. "I have plans to deal with her. It is my son who worries me the most."
Actually, it was Kalasariza€™ presence inside her son that terrified her. The king and the cunning spymaster made a formidable combination. Naturally, she said nothing of this to her new ally.
Smiling, Tabusir leaned close to Clayre, whispering, "I am yours to command, my queen. But might I beg of you one kiss to steel my nerve and send me on my way?"
Clayre thought, Why not? Tabusir really was quite handsome as well as clever. Of course, after he attacked her son, he'd have to be put to death himself for treating a member of the royal family in such a manner. Still, there was no harm in a kiss, was there?
And so she kissed him, full and deep. She was delighted when she felt Tabusir shudder.
But as she gently pushed him away, he whispered, "Here's a gift, Majesty, from your loving son."
And he rammed the poisoned dart into her soft, heaving breast.
Instantly, Clayre become immobilized-freezing into a living statue. Her expression was one of great surprise.