Starborn. Katie MacAlister
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dominance, much though I would like to. A more ungrateful, obstinate group of men I have yet to meet.”
“Your father?” Israel asked in confusion.
“The Tribesmen.” She clicked her tongue and corrected herself. “And yes, my father, too.”
He searched her face, looking for signs of distress, but despite her bitter tone, her expression was as placid as ever. “Is there no other way of rallying the Tribe to your banner without your father’s blessing?”
“Of course there is. It’s simply a matter of whether I wish to fight my father at the same time I bring the Tribe to heel, which is what will happen if I try to claim control.”
“Idril…” He stopped, not sure what he could say to her. He had not wished to marry Idril, but had agreed when it became clear that Jalas would remove himself and his people from the Council if he did not do so. Neither Idril or he had ever believed the marriage was anything but a temporary legality, one that would allow Jalas to save face, and Israel to keep from having a contentious neighbor to the north.
He picked his words carefully now. “I don’t know why your father has changed so much since the Battle of the Fourth Age, or what estrangement is between you and him beyond the dissolution of our marriage, but I feel obligated to offer you sanctuary should you require it.”
“Sanctuary?” Surprise flickered through her eyes. “From what?”
“The Tribe. Your father has ruled your people for many centuries, but it has not been an easy rule, and if you find yourself unable to keep them in control—”
“It is not the Tribe from whom I need protection,” she answered.
“What do you mean by that?”
Her gaze went past him, causing Israel to turn to see who had entered the hall.
It was Marston, who gestured a question that clearly asked if he was needed. Israel shook his head, and the other man left the room as silently as he’d come.
Idril turned and fetched the wine from where it had been mulling on the hearth, pouring him a goblet of the steaming liquid. “You did not endure the hardships of snow and travel just to see how I was faring leading my father’s people. Yet you spent two hours with Father and did not ask him anything. It makes me wonder why you would go to so much trouble to be here at Ilam.”
Israel smiled and sipped at the spiced wine. Although he’d changed into dry clothing earlier, the memories of the cold passage to Ilam were all too fresh in his mind, and he relished the warm burn of the wine. “I see the six months we’ve spent apart have done nothing to dull your astuteness.”
She raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch. “Did you think I would fade away to a colorless drab in your absence?”
“No,” he said, turning his mind back to the question of Jalas’s behavior. “I assumed you would fare as you always do. Since you have guessed as much, I will admit that I am here for a specific reason. You took note of what I said about Hallow?”
She seated herself in a wooden chair that seemed to be made up of elegant curves. “That he is concerned about Darius? Yes. What I found puzzling was what you did not say: exactly what it was Hallow did with regard to Darius. You simply mentioned them, and then encouraged my father to be distracted with gossip about the priest.”
“You haven’t lost any of your shrewdness, either. Tell me, do you really have an interest in Deo, or is that yet another of his wild imaginings?”
“Deo,” she said, smoothing the fabric of her gown. Her gaze was averted so that he couldn’t look into her eyes, and as usual, her expression told him nothing. “Deo is lost to us.”
“He is in Eris,” Israel corrected.
“Which we cannot get to.” Her fingers traced the golden threads embroidered on the creamy white fabric of her gown. “No one has ever been able to sail to Eris without perishing most violently.”
“No one has been able to sail to it, but there is another way to travel there,” Israel said.
She slid him an unreadable glance, the single wrinkle back between her brows for a moment before it smoothed out. “Ah. The portals. But those were created by the Harborym.”
“Not by them…but their leader.” Israel fought the sense of anger that followed whenever the memory of Dasa rose in his mind. “Their captain, Racin, is the one who sacrificed many Harborym in order to generate the power needed to opened the portals, or so the queen told me years ago. I can’t imagine that has changed.”
“Indeed.” Idril appeared to consider this. “I conclude you are not planning on inviting the Harborym leader back to Aryia simply so that you will have access to his portal leading to Eris, and yet, I can see no other method of getting there.”
“I assume that if he had the means to open portals here or on Genora, he would have already done so. Regardless of whether or not he has regained the ability to open a portal, I have not spent the last eleven months reassuring the people of Aryia that they are safe only to bring that monster back,” Israel said, feeling suddenly weary. It had been a very long time since he had been able to rest without feeling as if he was being smothered by sorrow.
Her pale lips curved into a faint smile. “Like me, you sacrifice much to keep your people content. But that said, neither are you willing to sit back when there is a fight to be had.”
“You confuse me with my son,” Israel said, setting down the now empty wine goblet and striding to the fire, welcoming the warmth it brought to him. “I do not run off on a whim to join whatever battle is at hand.”
“But Deo is, as I have said, lost to us.” Idril eyed him with gentle interest. “That returns us to the subject of the portals, which I gather is the purpose of your trip to the High Lands.”
“It is. Or rather, the means of accessing them without bringing Racin down upon our heads.”
Idril thought for a moment; then both eyebrows rose a smidgen. “Ah, the moonstone.”
“Exodius said he planned on safeguarding the stones since they were too powerful to be used by those who did not understand their strength. He did not name Jalas as one of the stones’ guardians, but Hallow has learned from his arcanists that the stone is here.”
She inclined her head. “It is. I have not seen it, but before he took to his bed, my father sent away all but his most trusted body servant and hid something in the keep. I knew only that it was an artifact of great power that he dared not use. I thought it might be a talisman or token that he…liberated…from the queen’s holdings when we were in Starfall City, but if the runeseeker gave him one of the moonstones used to destroy Deo—”
“Banish Deo,” Israel murmured, and wondered again what was in Idril’s heart. “Sending him to the Isles of Enoch was the only way to save him from your father’s wrath. I had no idea that Exodius would separate the stones afterward. That turned out to be much more problematic than I imagined it would be.”
“If Father had a stone of such immense abilities, it would make sense that he would hide it close to hand. But I’m afraid if you are here to plead for the stone, he will not yield it. He is very much like a magpie in that regard—once he has a treasure, he will not give it up.”
“I am here to explain to him that the stone is needed for a purpose that Exodius did not anticipate,” Israel said.
She shook her head. “You do not understand; Father will not resist because the runeseeker asked him to guard it—he will not allow it out of his possession because it is now his, and he does not give up what he holds.” Her gaze slid to the side, to the stairs that led up to Jalas’s chambers. “Unless that possession is his daughter.”
“Regardless, I must have the stone.” Israel sat, suddenly so tired he felt as if he could sleep for a week solid. “Hallow will gain access to the one that he says Lady Sandor