Sing the Four Quarters by Tanya Huff Page A

travel, the faster I travel, and the less chance I'll be caught in the mountains. I mean…" His gesture somehow encompassed not only the room they were in but the great, stone bulk of the keep it was so small a part of. "… it's not as if you don't have the space."
    "Oh, plenty of space." Pjerin spread his arms and scowled. "What about your mules? Shall we store those, too? Next spring, why not bring an army of traders through with you and we'll billet the lot of them in the Great Hall. We're not using it for anything."
    "Pjerin." Olina made his name a warning. "Don't be an ass just because you can."
    He turned, smile gone. "Don't push me, Olina. I will not have my home become a tollbooth or marketplace to suit your plans to exploit the pass. Nor will I have my son exposed to…"
    "Exposed to what? To new ideas? To the possibility that the seventh Due of Ohrid might actually be in a position of power instead of a hewer of wood and a drawer of water like his father and his father before him?"
    Albek stood. "You'll excuse me, I've caused unintentional strife between you, I'll just…"
    "Sit," Olina snarled.
    He sat, smoothing the wide legs of his trousers and hiding a smile. Glancing up through his lashes, he studied first Pjerin than Olina. The due, in his late twenties, was a powerfully built man whose height made him appear deceptively slender. His aunt, eleven years older, was a slender woman who radiated power. He wore his thick black hair tied back at the nape of his neck with a bit of leather. She wore hers in one heavy braid wrapped around her head like an ebony crown. He smoldered. She flamed. They were both tall, and dark, and beautiful, and Albek loved to watch them fight.
    "Ohrid controls the pass. Therefore, we control what passes through it." Olina advanced on her nephew. "We could become the linchpin between two great nations."
    "Increased trade with Cemandia," Pjerin growled, "is a betrayal of everything this family stands for!"
    "Because generations ago our ancestor was chased out of Cemandia?" Her posture changed from aggressive to mocking. "The first Due of Ohrid, fleeing from oppression, building a keep at the head of what he so romantically named Defiance Pass to protect his people from pursuit. He built this keep in order that he and his entire household not be dragged back to face a charge of treason. You, of course, are happy to huddle in this pile of rock, trying desperately to keep warm, holding tight to tradition when we could use what we have to become rich and powerful. To better the lives of everyone in Ohrid."
    "None of my people are fool enough to believe Cemandian promises. We increase trade and Cemandia will do everything in its power to crush Ohrid's independence."
    She moved closer. Pjerin stepped back, one step, then his shoulders folded the heavy tapestry against the wall and she closed the distance between them. He tossed his head like a horse fighting the bit. "If you're not happy here, Olina, go somewhere else."
    "Like your mother did?" She spread the fingers of one hand on his chest and smiled with satisfaction as he tried unsuccessfully to flinch away. "Maybe if your father had been a little more open to change, she wouldn't have gone.
    Wouldn't have run off with that Cemandian trader. Wouldn't have caused your father so much trouble trying to get you back."

    "Stop it!"
    Olina waited long enough for it to become obvious she moved only because she wanted to, then she turned on one heel and strode back toward the fireplace. "It occurs to me," she said thoughtfully, "I should be speaking to King Theron, not to you."
    "What are you talking about?" He jerked away from the wall and shoved at a lock of hair that had fallen forward out of the tie.
    "Well…" She bent and threw another piece of wood on the fire. "… if King Theron were to tell you to open the pass to expanded trade, you'd have no choice."
    "King Theron?"
    "He is your liege lord," she reminded him dryly. "You do remember that