“I am almost frightened by what has transpired here this night,” Liam said. “It would appear great changes are coming to all of us. What part we are to play in those changes I cannot tell.” He sighed. “I have never wanted to lead the Fiacre, I should have been content being Vartan’s cousin and friend, Noss’s husband, and father to my children.”
“The elders would not have chosen you had they not felt you were the right man,” Rendor said. “Remember that once before they asked you.”
“They asked because my father had been lord of this family after Vartan’s father died,” Liam answered him. “It was a matter of pure courtesy. They knew Vartan was the man who should lead us, and so did I.”
“And yet they have chosen you now,” Rendor noted. “I think, Liam, that you underestimate yourself and your abilities. As for the great changes to come, and what should be done, I believe we should follow the Shadow Prince’s advice. We will live as we have always lived.”
“Do you think that magic can really protect us from Hetar’s greed?” Liam said.
“I do,” Rendor replied. “Prince Kaliq would not have said it otherwise.” Of course, Kaliq had also said magic could not protect them forever. But perhaps it would serve long enough for Lara to find the destiny that would save them all from disaster. He emptied his cup. “It has been a long day, my friend,” he said to Liam. “I think I shall find my bed now.”
Liam stood up. “I had best be getting home,” he responded. “Noss is near her time, and she likes me with her.”
In her bedchamber behind the hall Lara lay sleepless. Vartan was gone. Every vestige of him was gone, burned in the fire that freed his soul from his body. He would be remembered in the oral history of the Outlands by the Devyn bards who were already singing of him. Once his generation had departed this world there would be few remaining who would remember the man, but they would know the legend of Vartan, Lord of the Fiacre. She wept silently again in the darkness of the night for the man who had been her mate. He had been a good man, a great leader. He had made a safe haven for her among the Fiacre. She was angry that fate dictated his demise, and yet had he lived, he would have resisted her going. And had he lived, would she even have heeded the calling of the voice within her? Ilona might claim that her daughter was not responsible for Vartan’s death, but Lara was not at all certain of that. She was beginning to realize that this destiny she had put from her mind these last five years was bigger than even she could imagine. And she was still not certain of what exactly it was. She turned onto her side, punching at her pillows, and tried to sleep.
She had the summer ahead to consider, long days of warm sun and gentle breezes to spend with her children. Days in which she would prepare Dillon for life without either of his parents. She most regretted that her daughter was so young. Anoush would not really remember either her mother or her father, and that was a tragedy. But Dillon could tell his little sister of their parents as long as he could remember them. Vartan’s face was already receding from her. Would her son’s memory be any better? And what of Cam, Adon’s son? They had never been friends to begin with, but Bera would surely try to foster a relationship between the cousins. Lara was not certain what to do about that. It seemed sad to deny Cam his place among them, but had not her own mother warned that Cam would be a troublesome child, and a dangerous man?
AT SUNRISE, Lara awoke surprised, for she had not remembered falling asleep the night before. Stretching she considered the day ahead. Rendor would want to leave today, and she must speak with him before he did. And she, Noss and Liam must decide the time for the new Lord of the Fiacre to move into the lord’s house. It should be soon, for until Liam had made the house his there would be those who would always consider it Vartan’s house – such was the nature of the Fiacre. She sat up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. First she wanted a bath. Slipping a house robe over her nakedness she slipped through a small door that led outside to a pergola thick with flowering vines that shaded the path to the bathhouse.
In the hall the servants were already at their daily tasks. With the old lord buried and gone, they returned to their comfortable routine. As they worked they gossiped with one another for they had heard that the new lord would be moving into the house shortly. Was it really true? When? But no one knew, and then Rendor, the lord of the Felan, and new high council leader was coming to the high board, and needed to be fed. Lara joined him shortly afterwards, fresh from her ablutions.
“You look tired,” Rendor noted as she sat down next to him.
“I am,” Lara admitted. “I don’t think I have slept well since Vartan’s death.”
“But now you have the summer ahead with your children,” he remarked.
“I will come to you before the Gathering,” Lara told him. “Will you escort me to King Archeron’s palace?”
“Of course,” he said, “but what of the Fiacre?”
“When the day comes I will leave quietly. It is always best to leave quietly,” Lara said softly. “I will use my magic to come to you. But I would ride to King Archeron’s palace as we once did when Vartan first met him.”
“You have entrusted me with a great responsibility, Lara,” he said changing the subject.
“You were the perfect choice, Rendor. You have dignity and you have presence, which will be crucial in dealing with Hetar. First impressions are important with them. If you show them a strong leader they will respect you if for no other reason than the way you appear to them. But you are also wise, and will not be easily fooled by them. If they manage to get through the magic barriers that the Shadow Princes erect around the Outlands, be wary, and put off dealing with them as long as you can. Do not allow them to press you into any quick decisions, my friend. Hetarians are crafty folk,” she concluded with a small smile. “Do not allow their charm and exquisite manners to lull you in a false sense of security. They are not to be trusted.”
“If the magic barrier is strong, will they be able to get through?” Rendor wondered.
“The princes said those with no evil intent will pass between the two lands easily. Those who wish to treat with you first will be harmless. And it is better that Hetar not know of the magic that will protect the Outlands from them – at least not right away,” she chuckled. “What the princes have done is to protect the Outlands from a military attack, Rendor. But there are different kinds of invasion. You must beware of a more subtle incursion by Hetar.”
“You have given me much to consider,” Rendor said.
“You will have to tell each clan lord before they leave today of the prince’s gift to the Outlands so they will not be afraid. And so that Roan may not frighten them into a war that need not be fought at all,” Lara advised.
Rendor chuckled. “Roan would be most distressed to learn how well you know him.”
“Then perhaps it is better we not tell him,” Lara replied with a small smile.
“If you had not this destiny of yours to follow I think you would have made the Fiacre an excellent clan leader, Lara,” Rendor told her. “You are truly an amazing woman, and it is the Fiacre’s loss that you must leave them.”
“I have given the Fiacre my counsel for five years now, and I have given them Vartan’s son and daughter. I cannot imagine being here without Vartan. But one day I will return, for this is where I mean to live out my days, Rendor. Keep the Outlands safe for me.”
“I will try,” he responded, and then he arose. “I must go now. The journey home will not be nearly as easy as it was coming here,” he grinned at her.
“I suppose I could transport you all back to your lands,” Lara said thoughtfully.
He laughed. “You would frighten those of my clan who came to pay Vartan homage, and are not used to your magic. No. We will ride home.” He took her hand in his, and putting it first to his heart, then kissed it, bowing to her as he did so. “Farewell, Lara. Rahil and I will look forward to your coming in early autumn.”