The two of them talked to each other with an ease that stirred Barakas. The patriarch was truly the father of his people, having cultivated no less than fifteen sons and several daughters over the centuries… likely many more that he had forgotten about, too. Of those he recognized, the two most intelligent had proven bitter failures to him. Rendel had betrayed the clan, seeking his own way in the Dragonrealm. He had died, thanks to his own foolishness. His shadow, younger Gerrod, was no better. It occurred to him now that here was one who could fill the gap of knowledge the other two had left. He had only thought of Lochivan as superbly obedient, never intelligent. Yet…
Sharissa was glancing his way, and he wondered when she had turned her attention to him. She was now all artificial politeness again. He had slipped and allowed his thoughts to show, something he would have never forgiven any of his people for doing.
“If you will excuse me, I must prepare for an excursion. Someone came across one of the founders’ earlier settlements.”
“Oh?” Lochivan leaned forward. “Where?”
“Northeast. I must be going now. Good day to you all.” She nodded to the trio and departed at a pace that emphasized her sudden desire to be away from them.
Reegan’s pained expression reminded Barakas of a sick drake. Lochivan turned to his father the moment Sharissa was a fair distance away, and the two of them exchanged glances. Northeast was where Gerrod had, of late, made his home. It might be coincidence, but, then again, it might not be.
“Shake yourself out of that stupor, Reegan,” the Lord Tezerenee ordered at last. He then returned his attention to his other offspring. “Lochivan, I give you leave to depart. I know you, too, have things that you must attend to. Yes?”
It took only a moment for Lochivan, who had not had any duties to attend to, to understand what his progenitor was saying. He nodded. “I do. My thanks.”
The younger Tezerenee twisted the reins and urged his mount away from the other two. Barakas turned one last time to his eldest, his heir.
“Dragon’s blood, idiot! Snap out of it and come along! You can’t very well sit there mooning all day!” He had miscalculated Reegan’s desire for Sharissa. The last thing he needed was a lovesick hulk. When desire ruled, the mind became worthless-and with his eldest that was doubly so.
Reegan managed to stir himself, urging his mount to follow that of his father. Barakas hid his disgust under a mask of blandness. He should have known that Reegan’s words to Sharissa had not been born of any cunning but of true infatuation for the young Zeree.
His mind awhirl with thoughts concerning the future of his clan and the potential that Sharissa Zeree promised that future-if the patriarch had his way-Lord Barakas could not be faulted for not noticing yet a third of the featureless entities he so loathed. It watched the backs of the two Tezerenee grow smaller and smaller as they rode away, then, evidently losing interest, it turned and started off in the direction that Sharissa-then Lochivan-had gone.
III
Sharissa had not wanted to confront the Tezerenee, especially Barakas and Reegan. It was, she knew, impossible not to confront one or another member of the dragon clan. During the past five years they had become especially noticeable in this part of the city. The anger that many Vraad felt for them had faded with time and the knowledge that the Tezerenee had proven invaluable over and over almost since the beginning of the colony. The clan now held greater influence with their race than they ever had back in Nimth, although she doubted that the patriarch saw it that way. Though he had always pushed for physical prowess, the dwindling of their sorcery to near nothing meant that their lack of numbers would now hurt them in battle. Still, more than a few of those outside the clan now looked to Barakas for leadership. Emboldened, the Tezerenee were once more walking among their fellows, daring their rivals to do something.
So far, things were still in balance. Silesti still held the majority of the folk in his hand, and her father influenced both sides to work with one another and ignore gibes and covert glances. It was Dru Zeree more than anyone else who kept the triumvirate successful. Left to their own devices, Silesti and Barakas would have begun the final war among the Vraad the same day the refugees had arrived in this world.
Barakas hoped to swing the balance to his side, and one method involved Sharissa’s marriage to Reegan.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she muttered. Sharissa did not particularly hate Reegan, and his words had touched the romantic part of her, but he was not what she sought. She was uncertain what it was she did seek, but it could never be this younger, more coarse version of the patriarch himself. Reegan would become his father in all save cunning. The heir was a creature of strength and skill, but not knowledge. He needed Lochivan to guide him in subtle matters.
Lochivan. Sharissa wondered if the Lord Tezerenee knew that his other son was one of her closest friends. Never a lover, but more like the brother she did not have.
As she walked, her eyes absently marked the progress that had been made of late. The western and eastern portions of the city, which was actually more of a giant citadel, were almost completely rebuilt. Most of the ancient buildings had been found to be too untrustworthy and had been torn down as needs arose. Thanks partly to the powers of the few who had the necessary aptitude for sorcery here and the physical work of the many who did not, there were now several towers and flat-roofed buildings. They were a bit too utilitarian for her tastes, but she hoped that would change. Most of the structures were empty, optimistic thoughts of a growth trend in the Vraad population making the people continue working after they had re-created enough of a home for the present inhabitants. It was a good way to keep them busy, too. That was one thing all members of the triumvirate had agreed on from the first.
There were a few traces of Vraad taste that she did see. Some of the arches were a bit more extravagant than they should have been, even to the point of being decorated with fanciful creatures. A wolf’s head over one doorway gave her pause, reminding her too much of memories of Nimth. She knew, however, that the carving was actually a symbol designating they who lived there as among Silesti’s favorites. Unconsciously following in the footsteps of his enemy, the third member of the triumvirate had chosen to make the wolf one of the marks by which his authority was known.
Something stepped out of a shadowy alley, startling her. She kept from losing face by stifling the gasp before any of it escaped her lips.
A smooth, featureless visage stared back at her. She, like Barakas, referred to them as the Faceless Ones, but most Vraad called them the not-people, likely because they did not want to have to accept them as anything remotely akin to their own kind. There were traits the beings had that touched too close to those of her kind.
The Faceless One confronted her for only a moment. With an impatient movement, it shifted around her and kept going. Sharissa followed its departure until it was out of sight, then exhaled the breath she had forgotten to release in the shock of the encounter.
A stray yet disturbing thought edged its way to the forefront-had the Faceless One seemed nervous? Generally, they did not go darting around those they ran across, but either changed direction completely or circled around their victim with a slow, almost casual pace. They did not go scurrying along as this one had. It was almost as if something else were occupying the creature’s thoughts.
What could so demand the attention of one of the beings that it would lose the reserve that its kind had become noted for over the years?
Then Sharissa felt the first stirrings of another presence-one so powerful and so different that it might as well have been purposely announcing its coming. Perhaps it was; she could not say for certain. All she knew so far was that this was no Vraad… save perhaps Gerrod, who was capable of many extraordinary changes.
A pall of silence wrapped itself over the area, as if others were sensing the same as she. Reaching out, she touched upon the strength of this world. Of the few who had adapted almost completely to their new home’s ways, some now claimed they saw a spectrum when they sought the power. Others claimed that their vision was that of a field of crisscrossing lines going on into infinity, lines of force. Sharissa knew that neither group lied; she was the
