Everlasting - Iris Johansen [64]
All wasted when Kadar had left the dark path and rejected Sinan to live with the foreigners. What a fool the Old Man had been to let him go.
But it was not too late. What Sinan had lost, Nasim could reclaim.
If Kadar did not die as the others had died.
Well, if he died, he died. Kadar was only a man; it was the power that was important.
“He won't refuse,” Nasim said. “He gave Sinan his word in exchange for the lives of the foreigners.”
“What if he does?”
“You are questioning me,” Nasim said with dangerous softness.
Balkir turned pale. “No, master. Of course he won't refuse. Not if you say he won't. I only—”
“Be gone.” Nasim waved his hand. “Set sail at once.”
Balkir nodded jerkily and backed away from him. “I will bring him. Whether or not he wishes to come I will force—”
The words cut off abruptly as Nasim turned his back on him. The man was only trying to gain respect in his eyes. He would have no more chance against Kadar if he tried to use force than he would against Nasim, and he probably knew it.
But he wouldn't have to use force. Kadar would come. Not only because of his promise but because he would know what would result if he didn't. Sinan had spared the lives of Lord Ware, his woman, Thea, and the child Selene and given them all a new life in Scotland. Nasim had permitted the foolishness because he had wanted to keep Kadar safe until it was time to use him.
But no one would be more aware than Kadar that the safety Sinan had given could always be taken away.
Kadar had shown a baffling softness toward his friend Lord Ware and a stranger bond with the child Selene. Such emotions were common on the bright path, but Nasim had taught Kadar better. It seemed fitting that he be caught in his master's noose because he'd ignored his teachings.
The fortress gate was opening and Balkir rode through it. He kicked his horse into a dead run down the mountain. He would be in Hafir in a few days and set sail as soon as he could stock his ship, the Dark Star.
Nasim turned back to the setting sun. It had descended almost below the horizon now, darkness was closing in. But it would return tomorrow, blasting all before it with its power.
And so would Nasim.
His gaze shifted north toward the sea. Kadar was across that sea in that cold land of Scotland, playing at being one of them, the fools, the bright ones. But it would be just a matter of months before he would be here. Nasim had waited five years. He could wait a little longer. Yet an odd eagerness was beginning to replace his rage and desperation. He wanted him here now.
He felt the power rising within him and he closed his eyes and sent the call forth.
“Kadar.”
AUGUST 4, 1196
MONTDHU, SCOTLAND
“SHE'S BEING VERY FOOLISH.” Thea frowned as she watched Selene across the great hall. “I don't like this, Ware.”
“Neither does Kadar,” Ware said cheerfully as he took a sip of his wine. “I'm rather enjoying it. It's interesting to see our cool Kadar disconcerted.”
“Will it also be interesting if Kadar decides to slaughter that poor man at whom she's smiling?” Thea asked tartly. “Or Lord Kenneth, who she partnered in the last country dance?”
“Yes.” He smiled teasingly at her. “It's been far too peaceful here for the last few years. I could use a little diversion.”
“Blood and war are not diversions except to warriors like you.” Her frown deepened. “And I thought you very happy here at Montdhu. You did not complain.”
He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. “How would I dare with such a termagant of a wife.”
“Don't tease. Have you been unhappy?”
“Only when you robbed me of craftsmen for my castle so that you could have them