Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,287

the patriarch was concerned, the relationship had ended there.

“Lord Barakas. Lochivan.” She smiled at them, nodding in return, then finally added, “Reegan. How do you fare today?”

“Always well when I see you,” Reegan blurted.

Barakas was almost as surprised as Sharissa at his eldest’s words. The young Zeree colored a bit; she had not expected such complimentary bluntness from the hulking figure. The patriarch held back a smile. She could hardly claim that he had engineered that comment. It was too obvious that Reegan’s stumbling words had been his own. For once, his son had taken the initiative. If there was one thing that Sharissa had no defense against, it was honesty.

“How is your father?” he asked, filling the silence that had started to grow too long for his tastes.

“He is well,” Sharissa returned, looking a bit relieved. For all her skill and knowledge, she was still naive in the ways of relationships. Her father had kept her away from most of the other Vraad for the first twenty years of her life—and she was less than twenty years older now. A short time to the long-lived Vraad race.

“And his mate?”

“Mother is also well.”

Barakas took note of her use of the term. The Lady Ariela Zeree was not Sharissa’s mother; she was not even a Vraad, but an elf from this world. Dru’s daughter had never really known her birth mother, though, and she had come to care for the elf so much that it seemed only natural to call her father’s mate mother. Barakas hid the distaste he felt. The elf was a lesser creature, wife of Zeree or not. She did not belong among the Vraad.

He realized that Sharissa was waiting for him to say something more. It disturbed him that he found himself drifting off so much more of late. Had it something to do with the white hair he had discovered of late… or the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes?

“Lady Sharissa, you know a little about those creatures, don’t you?” Lochivan suddenly asked. He did not have to elaborate as to what creatures he referred to. Everyone knew he meant the Faceless Ones.

The Lord Tezerenee glanced at his younger son, but held his peace.

“I know a bit.” She was cautious. Like most of the Vraad, she was ever wary of their desire for domination. Barakas wanted very much to assure her that she need not have worried; there was already a place for her among them. Such vitality and power could not be wasted.

“Have they shown any purpose? Do their actions mean anything at all? All they do is stare… if you can call it that, since they have nothing with which to stare! I keep thinking they know something. Fifteen years of staring must have some purpose! It’s gotten worse during this past year, too!”

She was interested; the patriarch could see that. Sharissa was interested in anything that had to do with her new world. “You noticed that? They seem more attentive of late; I thought that, too. I can’t think it means us any harm, however. They want us to thrive.”

Do they? Barakas wanted to ask. Again, as with so many other things, he held his tongue.

“What about your father? Dru works with them in their citadel. Surely, he knows more.”

Sharissa shook her head, sending fine hair cascading back and forth. Reegan was having trouble keeping his interest in her from growing too obtrusive. He had always had that trouble.

“Father always says it’s like working with a jigsaw puzzle with more than half the pieces missing. Somehow, they teach him things, but he never realizes it until afterward.” She smiled at Lochivan, seeming to forget for the moment that he was a Tezerenee. “It frustrates him no end.”

“I can imagine.”

The two of them talked to each other with an ease that stirred Barakas. The patriarch was truly the father of his people, having cultivated no less than fifteen sons and several daughters over the centuries… likely many more that he had forgotten about, too. Of those he recognized, the two most intelligent had proven bitter failures to him. Rendel had betrayed the clan, seeking his own way in the Dragonrealm. He had died, thanks to his own foolishness. His shadow, younger Gerrod, was no better. It occurred to him now that here was one who could fill the gap of knowledge the other two had left. He had only thought of Lochivan as superbly obedient, never intelligent. Yet….

Sharissa was glancing his way, and