parties didn't sound like her definition of mindless animals, but she didn't press the point. "They killed your parents and your brother?"
His nod was a short, brutal slash of his chin.
"Is that why you're going to Bosuny? To ask for help against these Tarveen?"
He turned to her, his head lifted in surprise while the firelight flashed in the dark pools of eyes. "You are a quick innocent. I didn't think you would understand."
"You'd be surprised what I know about violence," she muttered. "So what is it you need? More weapons? Better defenses? What?"
Slowly he shifted his gaze from her, seemingly drawn to the pure heat of the fire. His mask of placidity, of gentle politeness fell away. What was left of his expression was a stark hatred that shocked her. It was a twisted thing that matched the tortured heat of the fire. His skin glowed red, and his eyes became flickering coals ready to incite violence.
"You misunderstand. In this land of sheep farmers and soft women, I am going to Bosuny to raise an army." His words were cold and low, and she knew with sudden shock that his whole being was focused on his private war with the Tarveen.
"An army? But I thought the Elven Lord forbid aggression."
"With or without the Lord's help, I will get men and arms. Then I will attack the Tarveen, and I will slaughter every one of them like the monsters they are."
"But," she stammered, still trying to absorb this new and violent side of Daken. "You'd exterminate an entire race of people? Men, women, and children? All?"
"I will kill every one of them." Then he turned his dark intensity on her, showing her the unshielded hatred within him. "And I will kill anyone who tries to stop me."
Chapter 4
Jane expected Bosuny to be a congested mass of people and animals fighting for a living among filth and degradation. After all, that was how she sometimes thought of modern day Boston, so how much worse would a city of this world be without sanitation, social security, or a solid police force? She prepared herself to be mobbed by beggars, choked by the stench, or even lynched as a witch for her odd clothing.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
Bosuny was a beautiful place of brilliant flowers in green fields, fat babies, and well-kept houses. The roads were made out of a cheery-bluish brick with sidewalks on either side in front of quaint little stores, cafes, and even what might be an office building or two. Looking down, she realized the streets were cleaner than downtown Boston and, as far as she could tell, free of homeless beggars or drunken derelicts.
By the time they reached the marketplace, Jane had fallen in love with the city. Even the central market square, which was indeed teeming with people, wares, and every sight, sound, or smell she could imagine, was clean, joyful, and a sheer delight to watch.
And the best part of all was the citizenry. She had worried that people would think her odd or worse, evil. As if the words "space alien" were tattooed on her forehead somewhere. But here, she fit right in. As far as she could tell, people of every race, breed, and color milled about the marketplace. Skin tones alone, whether natural or dyed, went through all the colors of the rainbow. Similarly, hair color and styles varied wildly. She had seen some of these races at the village inn, but nothing prepared her for the riot of human-type people and colorings that abounded.
Fashion generally consisted of tunics and trousers or leggings, although she saw a few sumptuous dresses with matching head gear on women. The well-dressed man appeared to wear fancy shirts and ties that seemed more like scarves.
She couldn't make out any of the languages spoken, although even her untutored ear could distinguish several different ones. By the time they had helped the trader unload his wagons at a fur booth, Jane felt a little shell-shocked from trying to see everything at once. Then she heard a familiar voice and a very unfamiliar
His nod was a short, brutal slash of his chin.
"Is that why you're going to Bosuny? To ask for help against these Tarveen?"
He turned to her, his head lifted in surprise while the firelight flashed in the dark pools of eyes. "You are a quick innocent. I didn't think you would understand."
"You'd be surprised what I know about violence," she muttered. "So what is it you need? More weapons? Better defenses? What?"
Slowly he shifted his gaze from her, seemingly drawn to the pure heat of the fire. His mask of placidity, of gentle politeness fell away. What was left of his expression was a stark hatred that shocked her. It was a twisted thing that matched the tortured heat of the fire. His skin glowed red, and his eyes became flickering coals ready to incite violence.
"You misunderstand. In this land of sheep farmers and soft women, I am going to Bosuny to raise an army." His words were cold and low, and she knew with sudden shock that his whole being was focused on his private war with the Tarveen.
"An army? But I thought the Elven Lord forbid aggression."
"With or without the Lord's help, I will get men and arms. Then I will attack the Tarveen, and I will slaughter every one of them like the monsters they are."
"But," she stammered, still trying to absorb this new and violent side of Daken. "You'd exterminate an entire race of people? Men, women, and children? All?"
"I will kill every one of them." Then he turned his dark intensity on her, showing her the unshielded hatred within him. "And I will kill anyone who tries to stop me."
Chapter 4
Jane expected Bosuny to be a congested mass of people and animals fighting for a living among filth and degradation. After all, that was how she sometimes thought of modern day Boston, so how much worse would a city of this world be without sanitation, social security, or a solid police force? She prepared herself to be mobbed by beggars, choked by the stench, or even lynched as a witch for her odd clothing.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
Bosuny was a beautiful place of brilliant flowers in green fields, fat babies, and well-kept houses. The roads were made out of a cheery-bluish brick with sidewalks on either side in front of quaint little stores, cafes, and even what might be an office building or two. Looking down, she realized the streets were cleaner than downtown Boston and, as far as she could tell, free of homeless beggars or drunken derelicts.
By the time they reached the marketplace, Jane had fallen in love with the city. Even the central market square, which was indeed teeming with people, wares, and every sight, sound, or smell she could imagine, was clean, joyful, and a sheer delight to watch.
And the best part of all was the citizenry. She had worried that people would think her odd or worse, evil. As if the words "space alien" were tattooed on her forehead somewhere. But here, she fit right in. As far as she could tell, people of every race, breed, and color milled about the marketplace. Skin tones alone, whether natural or dyed, went through all the colors of the rainbow. Similarly, hair color and styles varied wildly. She had seen some of these races at the village inn, but nothing prepared her for the riot of human-type people and colorings that abounded.
Fashion generally consisted of tunics and trousers or leggings, although she saw a few sumptuous dresses with matching head gear on women. The well-dressed man appeared to wear fancy shirts and ties that seemed more like scarves.
She couldn't make out any of the languages spoken, although even her untutored ear could distinguish several different ones. By the time they had helped the trader unload his wagons at a fur booth, Jane felt a little shell-shocked from trying to see everything at once. Then she heard a familiar voice and a very unfamiliar
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