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"I love you, Troyes," she replied and wondered if that was truth, because
even as she said it, she thought of Isranon.
"I want to marry you at the King's Court in Chazkar. You are very beautiful.
More beautiful than any of the King's ladies. You will have beautiful gowns
and jewels."
Merissa felt dizzy at the images spinning through her mind. He was offering
her her childhood dreams. "Troyes "
"I want you, Merissa, more than anyone else. I want you to bear my children
and we will raise them to great power. Say yes."
"Yes."
Troyes gave her a long, satisfied smile and crawled over her. "I love you,
Merissa." Then he began to push her dress up.
CHAPTER NINE
HOON'S VALLEY
Mephistis spent two weeks at Linden's before leaving for Hoon's estates. He
kept one and sometimes both Linden and Quellyn in his bed at all times. His
stamina was tremendous and, when the week ended, he suspected he had left at
least one of them with a little gift growing inside them. He would have liked
to remain long enough to be certain, for he desperately craved an heir of his
body. However, the longer they stayed the more likely that they would be
discovered. He and Margren had been happy when she conceived. But their unborn
children were dead now.
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They took enough full preserving bottles to keep their appetites assuaged
Hoon wanted to leave no sign of their passage, especially bodies and
traveled in Hoon's large black coach. The coach was left behind at a border
estate owned by Hoon through a proxy company, entering the gorge on foot.
Lord Hoon's estates and holdings bordered Norendel, the Valley of Carliff the
Mad Lich, on the north by way of a narrow, bottlenecked gorge and Shaurone on
the south by an equally narrow gorge. It was that geographical feature that
made the Sharani pass him by when they swept through Waejontor towards the end
of the last war, overrunning two-thirds of the realm. Lord Hoon himself had
been sneaking into Shaurone for centuries. Hoon had seduced Linden's family
into the service of Waejontor three generations back. Her grandma'aram was the
disinherited eldest daughter of a Mar'ajan of Dovane and ripe for Hoon's
persuasions when they came. Now Linden's guesthouse had become a waystation
for guests such as Hoon and Mephistis, part of the underground highway for
spies and sleepers.
The new growth forest at the edge of Danae gave out onto an open meadow
dotted with chunks of rock and strewn with scattered clusters of boulders.
Here and there the dead trunks of trees that had burned twenty years ago
during the war with Shaurone when this was a battle field still remained, not
yet completely rotted, sprinkled through the forest and across the plain it
had once covered. To the west the cliffs rose, marking the descent into the
bottleneck gorge that was the only passage into Hoon's valley. Layers of
sediment and rock made alternating patterns on the cliff walls like a weaver's
design of irregular stripes. Grass tufts and scrubby bushes thrust out from
the sides like green whiskers. The floor of the gorge was thickly strewn with
rock and boulders. An attacker would have been forced to fight on foot here,
as the ground was too rough for horses. Only a mon or a goat could have dealt
with the rubble that washed down from the cliffsides each year. It was one of
those things that had kept Hoon safe from Shaurone: the Sharani depended
heavily on their cavalry and horse archers, although they also had longbowmyn.
The very narrowness worked against the last group as well as the first two. It
was an area that was far easier to defend, than to attack.
Hoon led Mephistis and his two companions, Margren and Bodramet, through the
night and allowed them to camp at dawn within the mouth of the gorge. He
shared out blood from the bottles. Linden had filled their saddlebags when
they left with a large supply of blood, which they transferred to back packs
at Hoon's estate. However, Hoon had broken into his own private stock and
brought along several bottles of better vintages: blended sylvan bloods, troll
and demon blood an assortment he shared sparingly.
Mephistis immediately dropped to the ground when Hoon called a halt in the
mouth of the gorge that morning. At midnight he had begun to hurt in his
muscles and bones, and long before the first light of dawn a burning sensation
had started in his extremities and along his spine. He had found himself
leaning heavily upon Margren, letting her bear most of his weight. Her undead
form was very strong and handled him easily.
Hoon studied his face carefully, searching every aspect of it and then
grasped his wrist to Read him. Then he eyed Bodramet, clearly calculating what
possible threat that one posited before speaking. "It's progressing faster
than I expected."
Mephistis schooled the fear out of his face. "Do something," he said in a
languid voice with the merest hint of threat.
Hoon unshouldered his pack and took out a preserving bottle that had green
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lines of power along it in addition to the gold. Mephistis had never seen
anything like this one, and he had seen many things, both at his father's and
his ma'aram's courts. The vampire fished for a glass and measured three
fingers of the liquid into it. He resealed the bottle and returned it to his
pack after handing the glass to Mephistis.
"What is this?" Mephistis sniffed at it, then tongued it. The blood had a
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