There was no mistaking the truth of that call, nor the fact that most of the Kindred heard it. It was not unknown anyone could bespeak us all if they didn't care who heard. I instantly addressed my people in much the same manner, telling them that it was a special case, the subject of the Council meeting at the morrow's dawn, and that most of the danger was in the mind of the youngling. Shikrar told me he had answered her from the guardpost and that she was well. I had to leave it at that, for I had too many others to attend to. She was frightened, certainly, but his response seemed to relieve her fears. She did not bespeak us again.
It took some time to sort out all the replies, but in the end it seemed that most of my people would be there. Even Kédra welcomed the call as a distraction from the coming of his youngling.
I would have to tell Lanen how successful her call had been. At sunset.
I was stopped by Marik's guards about half a mile from the camp. They escorted me—kindly enough, for the most part into the clearing where the cabins stood. Marik waited at the door to the largest. I walked up the few steps to the door with the guards right behind me.
Damn him, for all I knew about him he was still beautiful. His fair hair seemed to glow in the late-afternoon sun, his eyes grass-green and flecked with gold, his figure slim yet strong, making him appear far younger than he was. He spoke politely as he asked me to come in and sup with him. His voice showed no trace now of the pain I had heard earlier, and even though I knew he used his voice as a weapon I had to fight hard to stay angry.
No, Lanen, truth—I had to fight to keep from agreeing with everything he said.
I was thinking of so many things, I had forgotten the amulet he wore in Ilsa. They are, after all, designed to conceal their existence from those they affect.
"Good Lanen, come inside and be comfortable." I went in and took off my cloak. The guards closed the door as they left. "I thank you for answering my summons," said Marik. "I hope those great boors were reasonably polite."
"They stopped me on my walk and told me I was commanded to appear before you. One threatened to bind my hands if I did not come quietly," I replied, trying to sound more annoyed than frightened.
"Fools!" he cried. "I would never have ordered such a thing. Which was it, that I may punish him as he deserves?"
"It is of no matter, Marik." I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why did you want to see me?"
He smiled at me, as though we were privy to a shared secret. "Why, lady, I have just completed a morning's work that will make the House of Marik one of the wealthiest of the Merchant Houses. I thought I might invite you to celebrate that good fortune. And perhaps after we sup, we might speak more of your mother." He moved closer to me and dropped his voice to a register that melted my fear. "And perhaps speak more of ourselves. I would know you better, Lanen," he said, and he took my hand and carried it to his lips, kissing the back of it as I had been told some men did. Then he turned it over and kissed my palm, gently, tenderly, passionately.
I shivered, sick and thrilled at once. The thought of this man, who might well be my father, kissing me passionately made my stomach heave—but another part of my being had other ideas. My mind had its own firm opinion of Marik as my possible father, as one with a dark soul who dealt with demons, but my traitor body ached with sudden longing. I had never known a man, nor ever truly loved; and I had certainly never been romanced before, twisted as this was. It was the last thing I would have expected from him and I was completely unprepared.
I swayed lightly on my feet, and suddenly I was in his arms and hi face was inches from mine. He even smelled wonderful, and infinitely desirable. His lips were on mine almost before I noticed. His kiss shuddered through me, jangling every nerve with desire flavoured with a taste of evil, of the deeply forbidden. It was irresistible. It was nauseating.
There was no more than a shred of my mind that held fast to reality. That small part cried out that it was nearly sun set, that one worthy of a genuine love waited for me, but my body had taken over and I didn't care. I am afraid that I let go my better side and kissed him back with all my strength.
He seemed a little shaken. He drew back after a minute and stared at me, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "So there is a fire within, my lady of the horses. You have built your walls high and well, Lanen, but I shall overcome them." We kissed again. I felt stirrings I had not felt in years. I knew perfectly well that I should leave, but I could no more do that than fly.
Thank the Lady, the idiot moved too soon.
In the midst of a breathless pause (at least I was out of breath) while we clasped each other close, he murmured in my ear, "Lanen, lady, I know your secret, I know you have spoken with the Dragons, as I have. I pray you, sweet lady, tell me what you have learned, that we may be together in this as well."
Nothing else could have shocked me out of his spell. I drew away a little. "What?" I asked, my mind fogged with passion. "What did you say?"
"The Dragons, dear one," said Marik, with a glorious smile. He bent and kissed my throat, held me tighter against him, his hands strong and sensual against my back, murmuring, "I know you have been to them, you brave soul. Tell me, what did you speak of?"
My mind was clearing rapidly. I nearly drew away from him, but I managed to realise that I stood to gain more if I kept him believing that I was still helpless. It was not much of a pretence; I was still on the edge.
"Not a great deal, they wouldn't listen to me." I kissed him again, lightly, teasing. "What a thing to ask! Why do you want to know now, of all times!"
"Ah, sweeting, believe me, soon you won't want to speak!" he said laughingly, caressing me.
"Then tell me, you wicked soul, what is it you seek from them?" I asked, trying to sound playful. The words were out of my mouth before I realised they were the wrong ones. This time it was Marik who drew back. He stared at me, his false passion turned in an instant to a cold-eyed suspicion. I tried to feign innocence and went to kiss him again to cover my confusion, but he broke from me. I met his gaze with as open an expression as I could, but he was well versed in lies as I was not.
His eyes narrowed in anger. "And who has told you that I seek anything from the Dragons?" I did not answer. He stepped close again, grabbing my right arm roughly in a grip stronger than I would have expected from him. "Answer me, fool child, or I’ll kill you despite all."
Obviously he knew only two ways to use women, seduction or bullying. I can't bear that kind of cowardice, and as I've said, I have a terrible temper. Always have. And all the nausea, the loathing I felt for him (and which now included myself), poured through me and was transmuted into pure anger as I realised I was being threatened by the man who had just enticed me into releasing my passions.
Did I mention that I'm left-handed?
Just like my mother.
My first blow was not from my fist, since my knee was in a much better position, but the second one was. I had never struck with all my force as an adult—even with Walther I had pulled back a little. I have to admit it felt wonderful to see him drop. He hardly even groaned.