Free Dark Dreams by Rowena Cory Daniells

this plant were used in Gheeaba!’
    Imoshen made a rude sound. ‘I should prepare a shipload and send it –’
    ‘You dare to mock me, Dhamfeer bitch?’ the priest rounded on her. ‘You are twice over an abomination!’
    The palace servants gasped, turning fearfully to Imoshen. She towered over the priest, her brilliant eyes flashing dangerously. Even from half a body-length away, Tulkhan could feel the overflow of her T’En gifts rolling off her skin.
    ‘Leaving aside my race,’ Imoshen’s control was more frightening than rage, ‘leaving aside the fact that Ghebite men don’t think their women possess true souls but are only one step above the beasts of the field, I would like you to explain to me what is wrong with preventing unwanted children? Surely it is better for a family to be able to feed the children they have than to breed irresponsibly?’
    ‘See how she twists everything?’ the priest demanded of Tulkhan. ‘Cunning Dhamfeer. Listen to her long enough and you’ll believe black is white. General, you must protect yourself from her. You must protect your men from the women of Fair Isle. These women would emasculate our men, play them false with their vile herb. What man does not want sons? What man would not believe himself a lesser man if his wife did not produce a babe every year, or at least every second year?’
    ‘Like a prize pig?’ Imoshen asked, her eyes glittering.
    Tulkhan was aware of her fury, but he was also aware that a Ghebite warrior who had risen high enough to afford to keep three or even four wives expected to see them all heavy with child. Thirty, maybe even forty children was not unheard of. At least half would be male. With all those sons to further the interests of his house-line, while his daughters married to consolidate alliances, he would be considered a rich man.
    But that was back in Gheeaba and this was Fair Isle.
    The priest flung the herb to the cobbles and ground it underfoot. ‘General, you must order all these plants destroyed. Send your men throughout the island to collect them. Pile these vile herbs in every village square and burn the lot. It is the only way to teach the women of Fair Isle their place!’
    Imoshen felt her world tilt on its axis. General Tulkhan’s Ghebite features gave nothing away. Surely he could not be considering this? The priest would undo six hundred years of civilisation and reduce the women of Fair Isle to slaves like their Ghebite counterparts.
    She covered the distance between them, instinctively taking the General’s arm, seeking contact with his mind. In the moment before he raised his guard she sensed his reluctance to shame the priest.
    Her fingers tightened. ‘Every woman of Fair Isle grows this herb in her garden. Every woman decides when to have a child. Would you deny her this? Would you make her fearful of physical love? As a healer I know there are women who cannot carry a baby. It would kill them.’ Imoshen searched Tulkhan’s face. His features remained impassive. How could she convince him? She recalled his one secret fear. ‘There are other women who have trouble conceiving children. They use a variety of this herb to bring on fertility. Would you deny those women and their bond-partners the joy of their own child?’
    She saw a muscle jump under the General’s coppery skin.
    ‘Cadre.’ Tulkhan’s voice was harsh in the strained silence. ‘An agreement with the T’En church has been signed.’
    Imoshen took a step back, releasing the General’s arm.
    ‘By the terms of this agreement,’ Tulkhan continued, ‘we will not interfere with their worship and they will not interfere with ours. I charge you not to force your beliefs on these people. This law you propose would be impossible to enforce. Any plot of dirt or windowsill pot can be used to grow this herb. Would you have my army reduced to gardeners, rooting out unwanted weeds?’
    Put that way, it did seem absurd. The palace staff tittered and the