Catherine Asaro - The Night Bird

“Yes, Vizarana said. A tear gathered in her eye.

“Then it is done. The priestess smiled at Ozarson. “Youre betrothed.

Watching him, a chill went through Allegra. An image formed in her mindOzarson towering and dark, a powerful man taking his place on a huge black throne. A stunning woman stood at his side, her head lifted, her eyes wild and fierce with Quaazera pride. She wore the red trousers and jerkin of a Taka Mal warrior-merchant, with a sword at her side. A belt of metal cylinders crisscrossed her torso. Ozarson gripped something Allegra had never seen, an elongated metal object with a cylindrical snout and a massive grip. She didnt know what it meant, but she suddenly felt cold.

The image faded, replaced by a nervous boy standing with his future bride. Allegra shook her head, wondering what was wrong with her. She needed more sleep.

Be well, she thought to Ozarson and Zarina. No matter how difficult the path you trod, may you always have love.

Markus leaned with his back against the palace wall where the balcony rail met the side of the building. Allegra stood a pace away, her elbows on the rail, looking over the gardens and beyond to the lake. She held the dodecahedron in one hand.

“It will be strange living here, Markus said. “Ive never been in a place with so much water. It feels exorbitant.

She smiled at him. “It seems dry to me. Especially the air.

He held out his hand as if to ask a question. She took it, and his shoulders relaxed. He drew her into his arms, and she stood in his embrace, her cheek resting on his red silk shirt, her palm against his chest. They both looked out at Quaaz, he gazing over her head. Afternoon sunlight slanted across the city.

“You told me something last night, Markus said.

Allegra knew what he meant; she had said she would leave him. But that had been before his decision to end the war. His incredible decision.

“Things are different now, she said. She had thought he understood when she said she would stay with him, but perhaps he still wasnt certain.

“Are they? He sounded oddly strained.

She watched a hawk drift over the city. “Yargazon is gone.

“I dont mean that. He spoke with difficulty. “You said I had only to tell you something and you would respond in kind.

Her breath caught. Suddenly nervous, she said, “That hasnt changed.

“Its hard for me. He spoke quietly. “My father never told my mother he loved her. Because he didnt. I dont know if he ever truly loved any woman. Maybe Ozis mother, but I doubt he told her, either. All I ever knew, all my life, was that with women, a man employed force, commands and control. You didnt love a woman, you used her, for pleasure, for status and for children.

“You arent your father. Or Dusk Yargazon.

“No. It seems Im not. He brushed his hand down her hair in a caress. “Because I do truly love you, Allegra. And if you will let me, I will try learning to do this marriage business better.

She closed her eyes, far more glad to hear the words than she had been able to admit even to herself. “I would like to spend my life with the man I love. With you.

He said only, “Good, but his voice caught on the word.

“Do you remember when you wrote our marriage contract? she asked. “You put something in I didnt understand.

“What was that?

“You swore to honor the vows of our union. She hesitated. “In Aronsdale I would know what it means. But I dont in Jazid. Or Taka Mal, for that matter.

“It means the same everywhere, night bird, he murmured. “I believe the language in Aronsdale is, I will cleave to you and only to you for as long as we both shall live.

It meant more to her than she knew how to say. He had given her that vow despite all the reasons a Jazidian man in his position had to withhold it, and he had even taken the time and effort to find out the wording her own people used.

She lifted her hand and held it palm up to the sky. The dodecahedron gleamed. Power stirred within her, a gift she had feared she would never know again, one as ancient as her people in Aronsdale. She sang a simple song that had come down to her people over the centuries:

His kiss so sweet, his heart so bold

Embracing me with loves true hold

Sweet passion, where the starlight pours

Whispers of love, forever more

A sphere of golden light formed on her palm like a promise, that even a harsh land could miraculously come alive with the balm of water. The spell encompassed them, and Markus held her in his arms.

I would like to thank the following readers for their much-appreciated input. Their comments have made this a better book. Any mistakes are mine alone. (Actually, theyre due to pernicious imps who sneak on to the computer when Im asleep, but I cant keep using that excuse.)

For reading the manuscript and giving me the benefit of their wisdom and insights: Aly Parsons, Kate Dolan, Sarah White and Kathy. For their critiques on scenes, Alys Writing Group: Aly Parsons with (in the proverbial alphabetical order) Al Carroll, John Hemry, J. G. Huckenpöler, Simcha Kuritzky, Jennifer J. Monteith, Bud Sparhawk and Connie Warner. Special thanks to my much-appreciated editor, Stacy Boyd, and also to Tracy Farrell, Mary-Theresa Hussey, Kathleen Oudit, Marianna Ricciuto, Margo Lipschultz, Dee Tenorio and all the other fine people at Luna who helped make this book possible; to Binnie Braunstein, for all her work and enthusiasm on my behalf; to my wonderful agent, Eleanor Wood, of Spectrum Literary Agency.

A heartfelt thanks to the shining lights in my life: my husband, John Cannizzo, and my daughter, Cathy, for their love and support.

To the dancers in the Patuxent Youth Ballet. You're looking great!