Lightnings Daughter by Mary Herbert (android based ebook reader .txt) 📗

finest wine brought out and the best of his remaining delicacies set before his guests. Because it was early spring, there was very little fresh food to offer. Still, the larders and storerooms of the treld yielded dried fish, sugared fruits, honey, bread, cheese, pickled gul s' eggs, and shellfish brought from the sea that day.

Gabria was delighted with the fare. Her clan had never traveled near the Sea of Tannis and had no access to seafood. She happily feasted on clams, crabs, and gulls' eggs and washed her meal down with the fine white wine.

As soon as the chiefs meal was cleared away, other clan members gathered in the hall. They pushed the benches and trestle tables aside and cleared a space in the center of the hal . The clan's bard brought out his pipes and invited several other men to join him with their drums. The torches and lamps were lit as the dancing began.

For a while, Gabria watched the dancers and clapped her hands to the music. For the first time in days, she felt comfortable, warm, and full. She drank wine freely, nibbled on the sweet cakes and dried fruits that were being passed around, and relished every note of the exciting, happy musk. Then, before she realized what he was doing, Sayyed pul ed her to her feet and whisked her into the boisterous dance. She barely had time to be surprised at the Turk's knowledge of the clan's dances before he whirled her away to the rhythm of the pipe and drums.

From his seat by Sha Umar's dais, Athlone leaned back and watched the pair dance the intricate steps. He had been drinking the Jehanan's strong wine steadily and was unaware that his pain and his feelings were plain on his face.

Sha Umar glanced at his friend and followed Athlone's stricken gaze to the fair young woman moving through the crowd of dancers. The Khulinin had been closed-mouthed and irritable all evening.

Now Sha Umar was beginning to understand why.

"You have not married the Corin yet," the Jehanan chief said bluntly.

Athlone shook his head and drained his cup to the dregs.

He held the horn cup out for more. "She was banished from the clan for six months. When she returned, we left for Pra Desh,” he replied.

Sha Umar filled the cup. "You picked up that young Turic pup along the way, I hear. He seems pleasant enough."

"Huh," Athlone grunted. "A half-breed."

"If he bothers you," the Jehanan commented, "you should send him on his way."

"Gabria asked him to come."

"Ah." The truth became abundantly clear, and Sha Umar smiled. "Athlone, as a warrior there is none better in the clans than you. As a lover you have a lot to learn."

Athlone glared at his friend, his brown eyes rock hard. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Look at her! Is that the face of a girl madly in love with her dancing partner? She likes him, yes, but she has been watching you al night. Her heart is as plain as day when she looks at you." Sha Umar leaned over and slapped Athlone's shoulder. "Don't worry about her! Let her dance and enjoy. Come, talk with me while we have a quiet moment. When we are finished you can sweep her off her feet."

The Khulinin stared at the older man for a long moment. Sha Umar's words made sense. Maybe his friend could see the problem clearer; he could understand what Athlone could not. For just a heartbeat the Khulinin lord almost accepted the truth of Sha Umar's words, then he saw Sayyed pul Gabria into his arms. The smile that lit Gabria's face brought Athlone's doubts pounding back. But before he could react to his anger, Sha Umar took his arm and pulled him away to the chieftain's quarters, where the two men talked long into the night.

By the time they were finished discussing the problems of clan unity and their plans for the upcoming gathering at the Tir Samod, the music had stopped and the main hal was quiet. In the dim light of the dying fire, Athlone saw only some bachelors without tents of their own asleep on pallets along the walls. Piers and a few companions were still deep in their wine cups in a far corner. Gabria was nowhere to be seen.

Swallowing his disappointment, Athlone walked with Sha Umar to the entrance and looked out over the camp. The wind had begun to gust around the tents, and the first drops of rain splattered on the ground.

The Jehanan chief put his hand on Athlone's shoulder. "I'll have your supplies ready for you at first light, my friend."

Athlone nodded his thanks. Sha Umar bid him goodnight and returned to his chamber. The Khulinin drew on his cloak and stepped into the wind and rain.

The treld was quiet and dark; only a few dogs and the night outriders would be out on a stormy night like this. Ducking his head to the wind, Athlone made his way toward the men's guest tent. Just as he reached the entrance he paused, pleased to see Eurus, Nara, and the colt standing nearby, sheltered from the wind by the canvas. He was about to go inside, then changed his mind and made his way toward the smal er tent that had been set aside for Gabria. It was very late, but he could see light shining through the tent flap. Perhaps he would have a chance to talk to her. In private, he could learn the truth of her feelings.

Athlone was about to call to her when he heard a sound that froze his heart: Sayyed's voice. The man was in Gabria's tent. They were talking very softly, so softly that Athlone could not hear their words, but he did not need to. Their low, private tone was enough to breathe life into every dread he had imagined.

The chieftain clenched his hands into