Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 by Flight of the Raven (v1.0) Read Free Book Online

Niall's
single eye was steady. "Have you seen the priests?"
                 Aidan
grinned derisively, slapping his hand down. "They are Homanans."
                 A
silver brow arched. Mildly, the Mujhar said, "They are also men of the
gods."
                 Aidan
made an impatient gesture. "They would laugh."
                 Niall
rubbed meditatively at his bottom lip. "No priest of Homana-Mujhar would
ever deign to laugh at the man who will one day rule."
                 Aidan
sighed. "No, perhaps not… but they would tell those stories. Already people tell stories." He
tapped his bare chest. "The servants are full of gossip about the Prince
of Homana's fey son—the man who walks by night because he requires no
sleep."
                 Niall's
smile was faint. "Oh, you require it. And they should know it, too—they
have only to look at your face."
                 "So
it shows…" He had known it did, to him; he had hoped others were blind to
it. "I have done so many things, trying to banish the dreams. Petitions to
the gods. Even turning to women." His mouth twisted in self-contempt.
"I have lost count of how many women… each one I hoped could do it, could
banish all the feelings by substituting others. It is a sweet release,
grandsire, but it gave me no freedom." He sighed heavily. "None of
them was ungrateful—it was the heir to the Prince of Homana, grandson to the
Mujhar!—and I like women too much to cast them off indiscreetly… but after a
while, it palled. Physical satisfaction was no longer enough… all the dreams
came back."
                 Niall
said nothing.
                 "Gods—now
I am started…" Aidan laughed a little. " And liquor! I have drunk myself into a stupor more times than I can
count, hoping to banish the dream. And for a night, it may work—but in the
morning, when all a man in his cups desires is for the sun to set again so it
does not blind his eyes, the dream slips through the cracks." Aidan smiled
wryly. "I'll be telling you plain, grandsire, the dream is bad enough when
I've been having no liquor—'tis worse when I'm in my cups."
                 Niall's
smile widened. "Did you know that when you are upset, you sound very like
your jehana ?"
                 Aidan's
mouth twitched. "Or is it I sound like Deirdre?"
                 "No,
no—Dierdre has been in Homana too long… most of Erinn is banished, in her…"
Niall flicked dismissive fingers and straightened in the throne. "But we
are not here to speak of accents. Aidan, if you will not go to Homanan priests,
what of the shar tahls ?"
                 Aidan
stilled. "Clankeep?"
                 "There
may be an answer for you."
                 "Or
no answer at all."
                 "Aidan—"
                 "I
thought of it," he admitted. "Many, many times, and each time I did I
convinced myself not to go."
                 Niall
frowned. "Why? Clankeep is your home as much as Homana-Mujhar."
                 "Is
it?" Aidan shook his head. "Homana-Mujhar is my home—Clankeep is
merely a place ."
                 For
a moment his grandsire's expression was frozen. And then the fretwork of
Niall's face seemed to collapse inwardly. His eye, oddly, was empty of all
expression, until realization crept into it. Followed by blatant grief and regret.
                 His
tone was ragged. "So, it comes to pass… Teirnan was right after all."
He slumped back in the throne, digging at the leather strap bisecting his brow.
"All those times he said we would be swallowed up by Homanans; are you the
first, I wonder? Is this the Homanan revenge; if Cheysuli must hold the Lion,
we make the Cheysuli Homanan?"
                 Aidan
stared in startled dismay. "Grandsire—"
                 Niall
waved a hand. "No, no, I am not mad… nor am I