Love and Intrigue Under the Seven Moons of Kordea Read online

  THE WITCHES’ STONES: BOOK TWO

  LOVE AND INTRIGUE

  UNDER THE SEVEN MOONS OF KORDEA

  by

  Helena Puumala

  The Witches’ Stones: Book Two

  Love and Intrigue Under the Seven Moons of Kordea

  Helena Puumala

  Copyright Helena Puumala 2015

  Published by Dodecahedron Books

  Cover image Copyright Dale Olausen 2015

  AKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Once again, I want to thank all of the family members and friends who have contributed to the development of my writing, through their caring and encouragement. Special thanks go to my sister Kaye, my brother-in-law Ken, and our friend Rosemary, three of our enthusiastic and trusted beta-readers.

  And, of course, my husband and co-writer (and Editor, as well as the other half of Dodecahedron Books) gets credit for some of the more scientific aspects of the book, as well as for contributing to some of the action sequences. He is also responsible for formatting the book and finalizing the cover.

  Thank you all, as well as anyone else who participated in the process, but whose name I have failed to mention.

  Also, I should mention that I am currently at work on The Witches’ Stones Book 3.

  Helena Puumala

  Exerpt

  “This way,” said Nance, when the threesome had teetered outside. “I know just the short-cut for us to take.”

  She settled herself between Sarah and Jillian, grasping each one by an arm. Good, Sarah thought. That way her left hand was free to press a finger on her amarto, once they reached the chosen alley.

  “Hey, isn’t there a song about the Kordean night, how beautiful it is in Lina-light?” asked Jillian.

  “You mean the one that starts: I’m travelling through the soft Kordean night,/ How wonderful things look by Lina-light,/ She’s the moon we all love,/ And she’s held up high above/ By the power of the mighty Seven Circles?” Nance sang the words of the song in a voice that did her credit.

  Sarah had heard the Apprentices and the servants at Ferhil Stones sing the song, and she could join in the chorus:

  “Beautiful is the Kordean night,/ And gentle, so gentle the Lina-light,/ I’ll be home before the hot dawn,/ I’ll get home ere Lina’s gone.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” said Jillian. “I want you ladies to teach it to me before sunrise.”

  There was a shadowy alley leading from the street they were on; not much of the moonlight was penetrating it.

  “This is it,” Nance said. “Our short cut.”

  Sarah gave an involuntary shudder while Jillian turned into the alley with a whoop.

  “Let’s go girls!” she cried. “The quicker we cross this valley of shadow, the sooner we’ll get at that bottle of wine Sarah promised us!”

  Now she was the one in the lead, while Sarah was the one trailing. She pressed her amarto down against her skin, and even before she had a chance to fully connect to it she was assaulted by an emotional storm: triumph, greed, hunger, sexual desire. She loosed the stone, and became aware of footfalls behind her; someone—several someones—were running towards her.

  A burst from a stunner, and Nance went down; Sarah herself was still on her feet.

  “What the hell!” she cried and turned around to look at the first Hound coming towards them.

  He ignored her, and came to an abrupt stop beside Nance’s crumpled body, Jillian stunned him as he reached for the woman on the ground; Sarah used her stunner on the man behind him—and then the Security people were all around them, and the Hounds were going down, shot by multiple stunners.

  “The stupid git!” Sarah shouted. “He thought that Nance was me!”

  “Stupid git, all right.”

  Coryn was there beside her, helping her straighten out the pretty woman’s body. Sarah realized that she was on her knees beside Nance, and tears were running down her cheeks.

  “I didn’t want her to get hurt,” she heard herself saying. “If anyone was going to be stunned, it should have been me.”

  Table of Contents

  Exerpt

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Also by Helena Puumala, on Amazon.com

  About the Author

  About Dodecahedron Books

  Appendix - The L2 Point and the Kordean Moon Lina

  CHAPTER ONE

  There was a knocking at Sarah’s door.

  She surfaced from her meditation exercises into the shadowy lull between the blistering heat of the day, and the full light of the first moon, known as Lina. Usually, at Ferhil Stones, The Stronghold of the Witch Circle of the Twelve, the hour or two when the illumination changed was a time for everyone, including the servants, to rest weary eyes and bones, and that is what Sarah had been doing.

  She had spent the hot daytime hours tossing and turning in her bed. Her body had not yet settled into the topsy-turvy diurnal cycle of the planet Kordea, even though she had spent more than a half-a-standard-year on the world, taking lessons in Witch work from the Twelve, and the associated instructors.

  When the sunlight had begun to fade, she had roused herself to join the other inhabitants of The Stronghold in a simple meal in the communal dining hall. After returning to her personal space, still groggy from her disturbed sleep, she had settled cross-legged on a cushion to meditate, hoping that the practise would dissolve the weariness brought on by her demanding study schedule, and her problems getting proper rest.

  Someone, however, had come to disturb her.

  She struggled up on to her feet, aware that a welcome evening breeze was blowing in through the open casement window. She had drawn aside the heavy daytime curtain, and opened it, before settling down on her cushion. She had classes scheduled for later when the Kordean moons would be lighting up the night, but it was still early for that. She knew that she had not lost track of the hours, as sometimes happened to the newest apprentices; then a servant had to be sent to fetch them.

  Besides, the rapping had not been the energetic knocking of a servant.

  The servants usually banged loudly on the students’ doors, impatient to get the girls to wherever it was that they were supposed to be. These knocks had been light, almost hesitant, like the knuckle-rapping an Apprentice might do at a Circle Witch’s door, when sent to summon one of them. But Sarah was not a Circle Witch, although she was not classed as an Apprentice either. She was something different, perhaps the equal of a trained Healer Witch who had not yet moved into a post in the community.

  Wryly, she thought, as she reached for the door, of how irritated she often was, with the multiple levels of social order at Ferhil Stones.

  Once, soon after she had arrived at the Witch Stronghold, she had turned to Marlyss, the Eldest of the Circle of the Twelve, in her frustration, and asked her if it wouldn’t have been easier for everyone if such a big deal wasn’t made of the pecking order. She had succeeded only in drawing upon herself the ire of the venerable woman. Witch Dian had spoken to her later, suggesting that she keep such democratic notions to herself; Marlyss was a stickle
r for tradition, and the easiest way to get along with her was to let her think that all about her agreed with her ideas of what was proper. Sarah had groaned, and sighed, muttering that the price of learning the art of handling an amarto was high.

  To her surprise, Dian had agreed with that, but had reiterated that it was necessary to pay the price, if one wanted the education. Sarah had had to concur, and had set out to try to learn more about the Kordean social strata which confused her to no end.

  A white-gowned Apprentice stood at the door when she opened it. Sarah recognized her as one of the girls who ran errands for the Circle Witches.

  “You are wanted in the Eldest’s Office,” the girl said. “I’m to take you there.”

  “Ah, well.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow, then glanced down at the flimsy tunic and shorts that she wore. Some of the daytime heat was still lingering in her room, and in the hall.

  “Give me a second to get into my robe, and I’ll be with you,” she added, and pulled the door shut, again, leaving the Apprentice to wait.

  She tossed aside the summery clothes, and pulled on her “Witch Robe”, as she called it, a lovely, loose garment which, if she wore the hood, covered her slim form chastely from head to toe. Her gown was neither the green of a Circle Witch, nor the white of the Apprentices, but a creamy yellow colour, unlike the gowns of any of the other inhabitants of Ferhil Stones. It just so happened that the colour looked good on her, what with her black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. Although, her hair was not as deep a black as the black of the Kordeans, and her light skin not as white as theirs. And her eyes were brown, whereas nearly every other woman in Ferhil Stones (with the exception of the servants who apparently did not count) had lighter-coloured irises, in some variation of grey or blue, or green, even, but never with the least hint of brown or hazel.

  “All right, Liane,” Sarah said to the Apprentice when she came out again, “Let’s go and find out what the heck is going on.”

  Liane giggled. Sarah had noticed that many of the younger girls appreciated her easy mannerisms with them. Though they could turn prim and proper on a moment’s notice when one of the Circle Witches happened by. Even Witch Dian got that treatment, though she was, by far, the most flexible of the Twelve greenhoods. As well as the youngest of them.

  Bantering with the Apprentices was one of the very few easy interactions that were available to Sarah at Ferhil Stones, and even it, she could not take too far. She often thought with some longing back to the trip from The Planet of the Amartos to the Stronghold of the Twelve; it seemed to have been the last time she had truly enjoyed herself. That had been the final trip, after she had helped to put the little Scoutship Camin 001 back to rights with the help of a couple of Ranger ship mechanics, so that it was, once again, thoroughly space-worthy, if not beautiful, after its run-ins with The Organization battleships while she had been comatose. Agent Coryn Leigh, and pilot, Steph Clennan, had offered to ferry her to Kordea with a Ranger escort surrounding them, so that, the desirable a prize as she was to The Organization with her strong amarto-sensitivity, she made the trip to Ferhil Stones safely. Her companions had been through some hair-raising adventures, even as she had, and all three of them had been in the mood to crack jokes and laugh. Especially Steph, who had decided that Sarah was the ideal young woman to stand in for the younger sister which, having grown up as an only child, he had never had.

  *****

  The group which awaited Sarah in Witch Marlyss’ office was a surprise. There were six people—if Sarah counted herself—present, enough to have required extra seating to be brought in—sturdy, stackable, wooden stools, from the supply in the communal dining room. For a moment Sarah wondered why the Eldest had not simply had them meet in the dining room, or in one of the other larger gathering areas, such as one of those in which the Circle of the Twelve did its work. Then she realized that the topic to be discussed was probably one that Marlyss wanted to keep from becoming fodder for gossip. Servants talked, and Ferhil Stones crawled with servants—they were no doubt totally loyal to the Witches, but that did not mean that they could not be chatty, perhaps in a wrong place, at the wrong time.

  The other occupants of the room were all women, except for one. Sarah found her heart doing the tiniest of flutters when Coryn Leigh, the present Kordean-Confederation Liaison Officer, smiled to see her, and stood up to courteously help her settle onto the last empty stool.

  “Are we all present and accounted for, now, Circle Witch Marlyss, the Eldest of the Twelve?” he asked deferentially, when he had seen Sarah seated.

  His behaviour was beyond reproach, Sarah had to concede. The ex-alyen, and still, no doubt, an Agent, had slipped into his present role with an uncanny amount of finesse. Sarah knew that the powers-that-be in the Halls of Diplomacy of the Confederation Government were pleased with the turn of events which had seen him take over a position that had been vacant for as long as it had existed. They were so pleased, in fact, that they gladly overlooked the circumstance that he had not severed his connections to The Agency, another Confederation Government bureaucracy, this one concerned with keeping track of the doings of the only enemy the Confederation had, known as The Organization.

  But, then, Sarah had noticed, in the time that she had known Coryn, that whatever he did, he strove to do well. Apparently, when he had taken on the responsibility of looking into the amarto-angle of The Organization’s ambitions, and that had been before Sarah had ever met him, he had studied every bit of information about Kordea that he had got his hands on. These days, when he fetched Sarah to spend rest days at his Trahea Official Residence, he made a habit of debriefing her of everything that she could tell him about the way things were done at Ferhil Stones. If he had been as meticulously attentive to his duties as an alyen on Space Station RES, she had, on occasion, thought with a snicker, the rich women there must sorely miss his ministrations! The alyens and the alyenas were sex professionals of the decadent inner Space Stations, ready and willing to see to the wants of those in need of professional pleasuring—for a price. And, in Coryn’s case, Sarah knew, keeping both ears open to any interesting pillow talk, since, hypocritically enough for elites who liked to see their own people behave in a straight-laced fashion, the pooh-pahs of The Organization were very keen to take advantage of such services, both for themselves, and their often love-starved wives, whenever they had the occasion to travel to places like Space Station RES.

  “I believe that all the necessary persons are here, now,” Marlyss replied formally. “Thanks to your willingness to send a flyer to fetch Karina, the Eldest of the Eleven, and Clarisse, the Eldest of the Six, they are here with us. Had we had to depend on local, mounted, transport, we could not have gathered this quickly.”

  “Had I had to use local transport, it would have been a coach for me,” said one of the two greenhoods thus named. “Unlike Clarisse, I don’t ride at all, whereas she is known for her mad dashes on browhorn back.”

  A browhorn was what Sarah would have called a unicorn. Although the animals that the Kordeans rode were not the unicorns of the old story-vids; they were tough, thick-skinned creatures adapted to the difficult conditions of their home planet. They were rarely beautiful, and even more rarely white. Often they were cranky mounts, and since they were not above trying to poke at their riders with their horns when annoyed, the single horn of the riding beasts was usually shortened into a blunt nub. Wild browhorns were known to use the sharp implements for fighting one another, and the outcomes of such contests were often bloody, and painful to the loser.

  “I have a certain amount of discretion when it comes to the use of the flyers provided to the Liaison Office,” Coryn said with a smile. “Although, I should imagine, if I took it upon myself to run a common ferrying service, even for the Circle Witches, questions would quickly start to be asked.”

  “Which is just as well,” responded Witch Marlyss drily. “Less temptation for laziness to take root among the greenhoods.


  “But, are we all familiar with one another, or are introductions necessary? We do need to get down to the topic of this meeting.”

  Sarah glanced around her. The only other member of the Circle of the Twelve present, besides Marlyss, was the Witch Dian, the youngest of the Twelve. Neither Karina nor Clarisse was accompanied by Circle members. The Eldest of the Twelve sat behind her large wooden desk which was totally empty of clutter.

  “I have never met Witch Karina, nor Witch Clarisse, before,” Sarah said. “I did catch the names just now, however, and figured out which is which.”

  “And you, of course, are Sarah Mackenzie, the very talented Terran from the originating Confederation world, Earth,” the Witch Karina said. “The young woman who inadvertently keyed a collection of two dozen, or so, amartos, on a planet that most of us had never heard of before that. You could not possibly be anyone else.”

  “Yes, the unexpectedly strong amarto-sensitive from the Planet Earth,” added the Witch Clarisse. Was Sarah hearing a touch of irony in her tone of voice? “When, until she showed up, the most talented Terrans could do no more with the Stones than to keep them keyed, thereby preserving the beauty of those amartos which are used as jewels to adorn the bodies of wealthy humans.”

  “Terrans of Earth stock have displayed some unusual talents at other times, and in other places,” Coryn said with a shrug. “Which is why no-one thought to question why Sarah happened to be gifted the way she is.”

  “Has someone now questioned it?” Sarah asked.

  She felt suddenly apprehensive. Her eyes wandered from face to face, and she determined from the expressions that neither Marlyss nor Dian knew what this was all about, but that Karina and Clarisse were more knowledgeable. Nevertheless, they, too, were looking to Coryn to further enlighten them.

  Coryn, who for some reason seemed to be inordinately sensitive to Sarah’s moods smiled reassuringly at her.

  “Actually, yes,” he answered her question. “Witch Clarisse came to the Liaison Office a while back and told me a story which I thought merited looking into.”