Lightnings Daughter by Mary Herbert (read me a book txt) 📕

fists. Sha Umar was wrong; Gabria had indeed turned to another man. It took every ounce of his will to turn around and walk quietly back to his tent. Like a man half-dead with cold, Athlone lay down on his pal et and clenched his eyes shut. Although he tried to sleep, nothing he could do would erase the memory of those seductively whispering voices from his mind.

The rain began to fall harder.

Gabria raised her head and stared toward the tent flap. "Did you hear something?"

Sayyed half-closed his eyes and leaned out of the lamplight into the shadows. "Tis the wind and the voices of the dead as they ride the steeds of Nebiros,” he said in a low, dismal voice.

The sorceress smiled lopsidedly. "Oh, good. It might be the Corins. They would love to be out on a night like this."

Shaking his head, the Turic chuckled. He rose and fastened the tent flap tight against the wind. "I forget sometimes that you have already had your life's share of death and pain. Your next life should be one of ease and happiness. Perhaps as the spoiled wife of a wealthy man?"

Gabria wrinkled her nose and leaned back against one of the cushions strewn on the floor. "Why do you Turics delight in punishing yourselves with talk of many lives? I like our clan belief of paradise. I would rather go to the realm of the dead, a place where you can ride the finest horses and feast with the gods."

She filled her cup from a wineskin, drained it, and filled it again before passing the skin on to Sayyed. Her head felt light with wine and music, and the heat of the dancing stil burned on her cheeks.

She was delighted by the joy of the evening and by Sayyed's attentive company. Tonight she wanted him more than she cared to admit, and yet, even as her body yearned for the young, handsome Turic, her thoughts wandered to Athlone. She had waited al evening for the chieftain to dance with her, but he had disappeared with Lord Sha Umar. Only Sayyed had remained.

For his part, the Turic was well aware of the effect he was having on Gabria, and that made his heart surge with hope. Smiling, he sat down on the floor beside her, poured his wine, and picked up the handful of polished stones they were using for a game of Rattle and Snap. "Reincarnation is difficult for some to understand, but it seems clear enough to me. How else can a soul attain perfection? One lifetime is not enough to learn the grace and wisdom of the One Living God."

Gabria sipped her wine and laid her head back on a cushion. "And what does your god have to say about magic-wielders?"

"Our holy men preach against magic for the same reasons yours do,” Sayyed said. "Magic and sorcery are an abomination of the Living God's power."

"Do you believe that?"

"No. My father does, though. He was the one who banished me. Now I am like you. I have no tribe.

No family." He waved his hands in the air in a mock spell. "Only magic."

Gabria shifted a little on her cushion so she could see his face. Her eyes were not focusing very well.

"And you still want to learn?"

"I cannot ignore what I am as long as there is a chance of doing something good with my talent. I believe magic is a gift of the Living God." He held a finger up. "Or gods, if your people are correct."

"I think it's a gift, too," she whispered.

"That's why I sought you out. You are the only one who can teach me the laws of sorcery." He glanced at her and caught her watching him with a slightly puzzled frown. "What is it, fair lady?" he asked, but she only shook her head and looked away. He was surprised to see tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes.

Quickly Sayyed leaned down beside her. He cradled her face in his hands and tilted her head up so she had to look at him.

The tears brimmed and spil ed down her cheeks.

Gabria touched his jaw and smiled blearily at him. She was about to pull his head down to kiss him when suddenly her vision blurred. The lightness in her head turned to a dark, heavy fog, and she slowly sank back into the cushions. "Sayyed, I can't. . ." she began to say when her eyes closed.

She was asleep before she could finish the sentence.

The young Turic looked down at her for a long while and the need for her rose in him like a tide, pulling at him with an almost irresistible force. Yet he fought it down. He had fallen in love with Gabria that first afternoon, when he saw her sitting on the back of that magnificent Hunnuli mare. Since then he had come to realize that Gabria was a woman to be won, not conquered. He also knew full well that she had not yet given up her love for Athlone. The Khulinin chieftain had a hold on this woman that was not easily broken.

Sayyed sighed and sat back on his heels. He prayed to his god that someday she would chose him over the irritable lord. In the meantime, he had sworn his undying loyalty to her and he ful y intended to fulfill his oath---no matter what.

Gently he pushed the curls off her face and traced the line of her cheek with the tip of his finger.

Then he covered her with a woolen blanket and went to the tent flap. Outside the rain came down in torrents, blown into sheets by a powerful wind. Sayyed looked out toward the tent where he was supposed to sleep and shook his head. This tent was just as comfortable and did not require a long walk through a heavy storm.

He found an extra blanket and laid down on the rugs