the Chrystallusian martial arts expert who had been silent up until then, spread his small hands. "The lady is right. It is Conar's decision to make and I believe we should let him make it."
"Let him make it?” Shalu bellowed. "That is the last thing we should do!"
"I agree," Sentian said, nodding. "We should just do like we've had to do before: put him on the ship and keep him there until we can set sail for home."
"What if he refuses to go, Senti?"
Every head in the room snapped around at the soft question and men leapt to their feet, staring at the man whose life they had been so neatly arranging.
Catherine's heart thudded painfully in her chest as she looked at her husband. The baby in her womb kicked in greeting and she put her hand down to smooth the shifting in her belly. She saw his gaze travel to her and then stop. She smiled, but there was no answering smile in the sad, tired face which looked back at her. He seemed to beg her pardon for that before moving his gaze about the room.
"When will you men ever learn?" he asked. His voice was weak, toneless, and as he came Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 11
further into the room, those gathered could see the effort it took for him just to lower himself into one of the gathering room's chairs.
"We want what's best for you, Papa," Wyn said, coming to hunker down by his father's chair. The young man put his hands on Conar's knees and looked closely at him. "Should you be up so soon?"
Looking from one face to the other, Catherine could see the fierce resemblance between the two men. If she had not known they were father and son, she would have sworn they were brothers. Their hair was the same ripe shade of golden wheat. They both had deep clefts in their slightly rounded chins. They were of the same height, physique and coloring, and both had striking blue eyes, the older man's a deep sapphire blue, the younger's, a pale azure. Only the looks in those eyes were vastly different. One set had seen little trouble and strife. The other had endured torments no less exacting than those the inhabitants of hell experience.
"I am fine, Wynland," Conar told his son. He looked around him at those gathered. "Tired, but otherwise all right."
"You can rest on the ship," Shalu said, his dark cinnamon gaze fusing with the Serenian Prince's. "We have decided to leave tomorrow."
Conar nodded. "As good a time as any for you to leave," he agreed.
"ALL of us to leave," Shalu corrected.
"I'm afraid not," Conar told him. "I'm not leaving until the last of the slave trade in Rysalia has been abolished."
Asher Stone and Balizar Arbra exchanged a look of relief, then both men smiled at the grimace of stubbornness which immediately formed on the Necroman's face.
"YOU are going back with US!" Shalu barked. "In chains, if need be, McGregor!"
Conar sighed and shook his head. "When do you intend to let me grow up, Taborn?"
"When you show some sense," the King of the dark continent stressed. "As yet, I have not seen such a phenomena where you are concerned."
"I'm not going to argue with you," Conar said.
"GOOD!" Shalu spat, nodding emphatically.
"But I'll not be on that ship when you sail, either," Conar warned.
"Then we won't sail until you are," Chase said quietly, gaining himself his boyhood friend's attention. "If you stay, Conar, the rest of us do, too."
Wyn had to move back as his father pushed himself out of his chair. He stood there, seeing the anger gathering on his parent's face, watching the spark of rebellion beginning to take hold, and he glanced over at Sentian, the one man he thought just might be able to reason with his father.
Sentian stood up, too, and walked to his Overlord. From years of close friendship and hardship with the man, he reached out to put a steady hand on Conar's shoulder.
"We didn't come ten thousand miles to be turned back, milord," Sentian told him. "We came to bring you home and barring that, to help you do whatever it was you were trying to
"Let him make it?” Shalu bellowed. "That is the last thing we should do!"
"I agree," Sentian said, nodding. "We should just do like we've had to do before: put him on the ship and keep him there until we can set sail for home."
"What if he refuses to go, Senti?"
Every head in the room snapped around at the soft question and men leapt to their feet, staring at the man whose life they had been so neatly arranging.
Catherine's heart thudded painfully in her chest as she looked at her husband. The baby in her womb kicked in greeting and she put her hand down to smooth the shifting in her belly. She saw his gaze travel to her and then stop. She smiled, but there was no answering smile in the sad, tired face which looked back at her. He seemed to beg her pardon for that before moving his gaze about the room.
"When will you men ever learn?" he asked. His voice was weak, toneless, and as he came Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 11
further into the room, those gathered could see the effort it took for him just to lower himself into one of the gathering room's chairs.
"We want what's best for you, Papa," Wyn said, coming to hunker down by his father's chair. The young man put his hands on Conar's knees and looked closely at him. "Should you be up so soon?"
Looking from one face to the other, Catherine could see the fierce resemblance between the two men. If she had not known they were father and son, she would have sworn they were brothers. Their hair was the same ripe shade of golden wheat. They both had deep clefts in their slightly rounded chins. They were of the same height, physique and coloring, and both had striking blue eyes, the older man's a deep sapphire blue, the younger's, a pale azure. Only the looks in those eyes were vastly different. One set had seen little trouble and strife. The other had endured torments no less exacting than those the inhabitants of hell experience.
"I am fine, Wynland," Conar told his son. He looked around him at those gathered. "Tired, but otherwise all right."
"You can rest on the ship," Shalu said, his dark cinnamon gaze fusing with the Serenian Prince's. "We have decided to leave tomorrow."
Conar nodded. "As good a time as any for you to leave," he agreed.
"ALL of us to leave," Shalu corrected.
"I'm afraid not," Conar told him. "I'm not leaving until the last of the slave trade in Rysalia has been abolished."
Asher Stone and Balizar Arbra exchanged a look of relief, then both men smiled at the grimace of stubbornness which immediately formed on the Necroman's face.
"YOU are going back with US!" Shalu barked. "In chains, if need be, McGregor!"
Conar sighed and shook his head. "When do you intend to let me grow up, Taborn?"
"When you show some sense," the King of the dark continent stressed. "As yet, I have not seen such a phenomena where you are concerned."
"I'm not going to argue with you," Conar said.
"GOOD!" Shalu spat, nodding emphatically.
"But I'll not be on that ship when you sail, either," Conar warned.
"Then we won't sail until you are," Chase said quietly, gaining himself his boyhood friend's attention. "If you stay, Conar, the rest of us do, too."
Wyn had to move back as his father pushed himself out of his chair. He stood there, seeing the anger gathering on his parent's face, watching the spark of rebellion beginning to take hold, and he glanced over at Sentian, the one man he thought just might be able to reason with his father.
Sentian stood up, too, and walked to his Overlord. From years of close friendship and hardship with the man, he reached out to put a steady hand on Conar's shoulder.
"We didn't come ten thousand miles to be turned back, milord," Sentian told him. "We came to bring you home and barring that, to help you do whatever it was you were trying to
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