Exile's Children by Angus Wells Page A

Lhyn watching him, her eyes clouded.
    â€œRannach,” he said. “I’d ask him to hold our camp this day—to his lodge, if he will—that he not flaunt Arrhyna before Vachyr or Chakthi.”
    â€œI’ll go.” Lhyn spoke before her husband, motioning that Racharran remain seated. “Likely he’ll take it easier from me.”
    Morrhyn said, “It matters little how he takes it, only that he obey.”
    Lhyn nodded, pale-faced, and was gone, and then the three men could only wait.

4 The Stolen Bride
    Arrhyna hid giggling and naked beneath a fur as Rannach cursed and tugged on his breeches. It was not unusual that a new-wed couple find themselves the target of friends’ tricks, and already her husband’s had played their share. She supposed this calling of his name was another, but for all she could not find it in herself to object overmuch. These Commacht were a cheerful folk, unlike her own Tachyn, whose mood reflected their akaman’s. Since Chakthi’s wife had died, he had become a surly, sullen man, his temper shout, his judgments swift and brutal, and that dour temperament seemed to infect all the clan. There was not so much laughter amongst the Tachyn lodges. She frowned as she thought on how he had treated her parents, then smiled at the thought that they were now taken in by the Commacht. Racharran seemed a kind man, if somewhat stern, and most assuredly of far graver disposition than his son. She watched as Rannach—her husband now!—laced his breeches, admiring the way muscle corded and flexed across his broad shoulders. Did he curse, it was good-natured, and the Maker knew, he was so handsome, she so fortunate.
    Her smile faded as he flung back the lodge flap, an oath dying on his lips, replaced with a mumbled apology.
    â€œMother, forgive me. I thought …”
    He stepped back, inviting Lhyn to enter. Arrhyna drew the fur up toher chin, wishing there had been more warning of this visit. What would Lhyn think of her, lying abed with breakfast not even thought about yet? She bit her lip at sight of Lhyn’s face, but then the older woman smiled.
    â€œWhat apologies are needed are mine to offer.” Lhyn ducked her head in Arrhyna’s direction as Rannach draped a blanket about his shoulder. “You’re settled, daughter?”
    Daughter
. Arrhyna liked that: it seemed a further seal laid on the happiness of her future. She nodded from behind the fur and said, “I am … Mother.”
    â€œMy son”—this with a mock stern glance at Rannach—“treats you well?”
    Arrhyna blushed and giggled and said, “He is a fine husband.”
    â€œWhose attentions I’d not deprive you of.” Lhyn smiled still, but behind her friendly expression Arrhyna could detect … She was not sure: fear was her strongest impression. Despite the fur, she felt a sudden chill.
    Rannach, too, she thought, for he said, “What brings you, Mother? Not, of course, that we are anything but happy to see you.”
    â€œAch!” Lhyn waved a hand, dismissing his solicitous words. “A new-wed couple happy to welcome visitors? Rannach, even were you not my son I’d know better than that. Nor would I disturb you, save …”
    Her smile disappeared entirely and Rannach frowned. “What is it?” he asked. “Some trouble with Vachyr? Chakthi?”
    â€œNot yet.” Lhyn shook her head. “Nor, the Maker willing, shall there be. Your father calls Council this night, and I’ve a thing to ask you.”
    Swiftly, she described Colun’s news. Rannach’s frown grew deeper; Arrhyna was abruptly aware of her nudity. She wished she were dressed: it seemed somehow more fitting that she receive such news clad.
    â€œI shall attend the Council,” Rannach declared.
    â€œAs should you,” Lhyn said. “But more …” she spoke of Morrhyn’s