Chapter Seventeen #3
One of the few genuinely friendly faces in the crowd was a Fey-eyed border lord named Teleos from the west, whom Rain greeted with a warmth he’d not shown any other Celierian.
Even without Lord Corrias’s whispered summation, Ellie knew who Lord Devron Teleos was.
His family’s ancestral estates lay at the foot of the southernmost Feyl mountains, guarding the Garreval, gateway to the Fading Lands.
On that land, fifty miles north of the Garreval, the battle of Eadmond’s Field had been waged, and Sariel had died.
“Lady Ellysetta.” Teleos bowed to her. “The gods have shone their grace on the Tairen Soul indeed. You make me envy him his good fortune.”
Ellysetta blushed at the generous compliment.
Just as she’d sensed the false welcome in the other lords, she sensed the truth in Teleos.
Like the Fey, he looked at her and saw beauty.
How amazing. “You are too kind, Lord Teleos,” she replied, “but in truth, I received the greater grace. What girl has not dreamed of Rain Tairen Soul and Fey devotion?”
“And all this time, I believed the thought of me would send them fleeing in fear,” Rain quipped with a faint smile. In a more serious tone, he told Teleos, “My thanks for your courage in Council yesterday. It is good to know that common sense still prevails in some parts of Celieria.”
“I should have spoken sooner.” Teleos’s green eyes held genuine regret. “Had I known what was done to Ser vel Jelani, I would have, but I never suspected such animus.”
“Dax tells me you are the descendant of an old friend of mine, Shanis Teleos,” Rain said.
“My great-grandfather’s great-grandfather,” the border lord confirmed.
“He was there that day at Eadmond’s Field. I am glad to know he survived it. He was a great warrior, and a true friend.”
“According to the family history I learned as a boy, he saw an opportunity to flank the Merellians and took a force of his best men to circle round from the north. He wasn’t on the field when you . . . when the Rage took you.”
Rain nodded somberly; then a ghost of a smile lightened his eyes.
“He always could read a battlefield . . . and had the gods’ own luck.
We were chadins together in our youth at the Warrior’s Academy in Dharsa.
Then I found my wings, and he went south to Tehlas, to continue his training under the tutelage of his uncle and namesake, Shannisorran v’En Celay. ”
That was a name Ellie had read in numerous tomes of Fey history and poetry.
Shannisorran v’En Celay, Lord Death, one of the greatest, deadliest Fey warriors ever to have walked the earth, as infamous in battle as Rain was for the scorching of the world and Gaelen vel Serranis for sparking the Mage Wars.
“I did not see your folk there by the Garreval when we passed through the Mists,” Rain said. “Shanis always kept the custom, but I suppose things have changed.”
Lord Teleos smiled at the probe. “The land remains in our family, but we no longer live there. After the Wars, the king granted Shanis a northern estate bordering Eld and the Feyls. We now guard Orest and Kiyera’s Veil.”
Rain nodded. “So Dax told me. It is a handsome land . . . and a dangerous one. The Eld I knew always coveted that stretch of the river.” Orest, the City of Mist, lay at the foot of the Feyls, wreathed in the mists and rainbows of numerous waterfalls that fed the mighty Heras River.
About a mile northwest of the city in the river gorge, Kiyera’s Veil was a legendary gauntlet of towering waterfalls pouring into the Heras from opposite mountains, filling the gorge with water and mist and blocking a pass rumored to lead into the Fading Lands.
“And still do.” The border lord’s expression became grim. “I lose a dozen villagers every year to Eld raids—not murdered, just gone—but the attacks seem to be lessening of late.”
“You’re the first I’ve heard to blame the Eld and not dahl’reisen.”
Teleos grimaced. “Yes, well, Sebourne and his pack don’t think a fly dies on the borders these days except by dahl’reisen hand, but the raids on my land just don’t have the feel of dahl’reisen. I can’t really explain why.”
“Do not discount your intuition, Lord Teleos. You’re Fey enough to perceive things beyond mortal senses.
The Eld I knew always longed to drive a wedge between Celierians and Fey.
Murdering Celierians and blaming the Fey—or the dahl’reisen—is just the sort of deception they would employ.
” From the corner of his eye, Rain saw Lord Corrias signal.
“It has been a pleasure meeting you, Lord Teleos. I hope we have the chance to speak again.”
Teleos bowed graciously. “The pleasure is mine, My Lord Feyreisen. It would be my honor to host a dinner for you before you return to the Fading Lands. Though I’m unlikely to instill trust in those who doubt the Fey”—his Fey eyes gleamed with wry humor—“I know many lords who remain more open-minded about certain things than Sebourne.”
Rain inclined his head. “A most generous offer, my lord. It would be our honor to attend.” He offered an arm clasp and a traditional Fey warrior’s greeting which roughly translated to “Sharp blade, sure aim, swift strike.”
Teleos returned the greeting in perfectly accented Feyan and added on the common Spirit path, ?You can count on my support, My Lord Feyreisen. Both my voice in Council and my sword, if you need it. These are unsettling times, but I fear much worse is yet to come.?
?Beylah vo, young blade brother,? Rain answered. ?And for a son of Shanis’s line who guards the Veil, the doors of the Warrior’s Academy in Dharsa are always open. When you wish it, I will send a warrior to guide you through the Mists.?
Lord Teleos’s eyes widened. ?You honor me.?
?That was very kind of you,? Ellysetta sent as they walked away.
?Not entirely unselfish,? Rain admitted. ?Any man who guards the Veil should be Fey-trained in weapons and war. You liked him??
?Very much. More than anyone we’ve met so far.?
?Good. I liked him, too.?
In sharp contrast to Lord Teleos, Lord Morvel was a towering iceberg of a man with thick, unpowdered white hair, a hawklike nose, large nostrils, and piercing blue eyes.
After a brief, chilly greeting, those eyes speared Ellie, delved ruthlessly into her very soul, then withdrew with an indecipherable look that left her wondering if he despised her or simply found her unworthy of even that much of his great regard.
She was in good company. Lord Morvel’s dissecting gaze fell upon Rain and withdrew with the same results.
“Let me be frank,” Lord Morvel said bluntly.
“I’m not offering marriage to any of my noble sons or grandsons.
But I do have a son, duAlbuth, whose mother was my armorer’s daughter.
I’ve had him trained in warfare, and he currently serves in my infantry.
Marriage to a woodcarver’s daughter would not insult his lineage, given his already-common stock.
I would, of course, expect a dowry at least as generous as what you gave the butcher, so he could purchase a lower-gentry title and a bit of land and still have enough to ensure advantageous marriages for his own children. ”
“I see.” To his credit, Rain did not pull steel. “And what might the Fey receive in return—besides the gracious offer of blood-ties to the House of Morvel and an opportunity for the Feyreisa’s sisters to ascend beyond their lowly roots?”
If Morvel noted his sarcasm, he showed no sign of it.
“The king shared your concerns about the Eld with the Twenty. I have eight castles on the Elden March between Eastmere and Norwal, each capable of garrisoning between one and two thousand men. If it’s men on the Marches you want, I can help .
. . depending on the outcome of our negotiations, of course. ”
“Of course.” Rain smiled without a hint of warmth reaching his eyes and bowed his head. “I look forward to further discussions. Dax and I will call on you tomorrow.”
?Never,? Ellysetta bit out as she and Rain shook off that wintry encounter and moved on to greet the next group of nobles. ?Never will either of my sisters wed into that man’s family. And I don’t care if the entire world depends on it.?
?Las, shei’tani. An offer is not a betrothal. Besides, you heard him say everything was negotiable. Woodcarver’s blood may insult him, but he seems rather fond of Fey gold—and you did notice, I hope, that I let his insults pass without challenge.?
?I expected them to insult me, not Lillis and Lorelle,? she admitted, then looked up sheepishly. ?I was ready to go for his throat myself.?
Rain’s teeth bared in a predator’s smile.
?Release me from my oath, and I will make him scream for forgiveness.
? When she didn’t, he sighed with mock disappointment.
?More’s the pity. So, aside from his insulting arrogance, what did you think of him?
Does he strike you as a man of honor? Is he someone a Fey can trust, once he gives his word? ?
She stopped in her tracks and gaped at him. “How should I know?” Surprise made her blurt it aloud. “I’m no shei’dalin to read the truth in a man’s soul.”
Rain wove a quick web of magic to catch her words and keep them from traveling. ?Silently, Ellysetta. Corrias is recording every word for his report to Dorian and the queen. And as for reading a man’s soul, aiyah, you can. You’ve been doing a shei’dalin’s service all evening.?
?What?? Her eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed as her brows drew together. ?Is that why you’ve been asking for my opinions all night? Not to put me at ease, but to use me? Or rather, to get me to use the magic you claim I possess??