The Ruin of Kings (A Chorus of Dragons)

by Jenn Lyons

  Grudgingly, swinging his glare from the servants to the physicker, Kihrin went over to the window. He stared sullenly at first, but when he realized what he was seeing, Kihrin’s jaw dropped open.

  Spread out before him was a palace of blue tile roofs and lapis lazuli walls, towers, and spires that ran into each other and formed verandas, pavilions, and courtyards. His gaze found no surface to rest on that was not some shade of blue, or where blue was not the predominant color. Each building, each section of building, was a fantastic delight of delicate archways, leaded glass windows, and intricate stone-carving. He had known the royal palaces were large, but this was almost more than he could believe. All of Velvet Town fit within those walls. This isn’t a palace; it’s a city.

  Then his Shadowdancer instincts kicked in, and he started counting guards. The palace architecture looked random. It wasn’t; he could find no spot not under the watchful eye of a guard on a rampart or walkway. The walls looked like an easy climb, but lacked blind spots.

  “This is the Private Court,” Lorgrin explained. “Only for family and the closest servants and slaves. It has three hundred rooms, five hundred or so guards, its own hospital, theater, and gardens. And since this is where the D’Mon family lives, no one leaves or enters without being seen, inspected, and cataloged. If by chance you did manage to leave, you’d have at least two more courts of the palace to cross just to be on the public streets. Then you’d have to deal with the Watchmen who guard the paths down to the Lower Circle.”

  “So, don’t be stupid?”

  “Aha! The boy has potential. Keep thinking like that, and you might just survive.”

  Kihrin looked out over the palace. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “You’re a strange kid. Most boys your age would give their left nut to be here.”

  Kihrin faced the physicker. “I turn sixteen this New Year’s.”

  “I know.”

  “They can’t force me to stay here after that. I’ll be an adult.”

  The old man sighed. “A lot can change in six months. In the meantime, Darzin is anxious to speak with you, and the Lord Heir isn’t known for his patience. So why don’t you let these nice people earn the money they’re paid. That way Darzin won’t have an excuse to order them whipped.”

  Kihrin started, shocked, and turned to stare at the servants. Every one of them fixed their eyes firmly to the tile floor. It would be easy to dismiss them as statues.

  “I don’t need a dozen people to give me a bath. I just had one.”

  The doctor snorted. “No one downwind would agree with you.” He turned to the servants. “Lady Miya told me she ordered the Bath of Petals closed for his use today. Do something about his hair, would you? The kid looks like a witch’s apprentice. Let Valrazi know when you’re done and he’ll send an escort for the boy.”

  The servant bowed. “Yes, Master Lorgrin. Right away.” The man turned and snapped his fingers. A serving girl slid forward holding out a blue linen robe for Kihrin.

  Lorgrin turned one last time to the teenager. “You need anything, I’ll be at the hospital. Ask someone to show you. I gave up on trying to give directions around the time High Lord Therin was learning to walk. And Kihrin, if you start feeling chest pains? You make someone find me and drag me to you. Don’t let anyone convince you it’s a false alarm. Understand?”

  Kihrin nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  29: TERAETH’S RETURN

  (Kihrin’s story)

  The Black Brotherhood was indeed celebrating when Kalindra and I came back from the baths. Food and drink were in plentiful abundance. I recognized refugees from The Misery, but most of the now-freed slaves were recovering from their ordeal. I didn’t see Tyentso, and I worried for her. If the Brotherhood hated slavery so much, she wasn’t going to be on their welcome list. What were they going to do with her?

  The reptilian members of the Brotherhood lounged near large open pit fires for warmth against the chill night air. The vané did too, but in their case, it seemed more celebratory than necessary. Most of the vané were Manol—all midnight blues, forest greens, blood rubies, and black amethysts—but a few Kirpis vané stood out in pastel contrast. They passed around fluted glasses of sparkling fruit liqueurs and golden wines, laughing and talking. Everyone sat or lay on silk floor cushions or low padded couches.

  They were a sensual crowd; few talked when they could talk and touch, and if they could touch, why not kiss? I’d grown up in a brothel, but I felt out of my league.

  I watched two Manol vané women kiss for several minutes before I realized neither one was a woman.

  Maybe it was because they were so beautiful. Maybe it was because Quur has a certain public prudishness about same-gender sexuality that clearly wasn’t shared by the Black Brotherhood. Sure, some men prefer men even in Quur, but it’s all very discreet. Velvet boys kept politely inside the seraglio or brothel so a patron can maintain the facade that he came for the women. No Quuros male ever publicly admitted he preferred men. No one seemed to care about that here, or, hell, even notice.

  I was blushing.

  Kalindra found my reaction amusing. “We’re usually in a festive frame of mind after a Maevanos. Most of us find looking Death in the eye rather intoxicating, not to mention arousing.” She handed me a glass of mulled wine.

  “They weren’t in any danger during the ritual, were they?”

  “You saw the Cup?” I heard the capital letter in her voice.

  I nodded.

  “Teraeth fills it with poison for the ritual.”

  The drink paused against my lip. I thought of Darzin and his parties and other poisoned cups. I stared at her.

  “If the supplicant is pure, the poison is nullified. If not…” She shrugged.

  “You people seem fond of that theme.”

  “It allows little room for argument,” Kalindra agreed. “We are brothers and sisters, bound in life and death to each other, each chosen and re-chosen by our goddess. We trust each other because we know, as others can only hold on faith, that we are loved. We hold no fear of Death because we know her caress. Freed from that fear, we find joy in life and all it holds.”

  “Then why do people view the Black Brotherhood with such dread?”

  “Because,” Teraeth said as he walked up behind us, “nothing is more terrifying than a man who has no fear of Death, and is happy to die if it means killing you.”

  “In other words, we’re paid murderers,” Kalindra said.

  I glared at him. He had changed clothes, and now wore a pair of sea-green silk drawstring pants and a green wraparound shirt spattered with golden seashells. He wore a chipped, carved black arrowhead between rows of black shark teeth around his neck.* The shirt opened at the chest, and though the lighting was erratic, the flesh above his heart looked tender and new.

  He was so pretty I wanted to hit him, just so there would be something about him that wasn’t perfect.

  “How long did you have to wait before I gave you a good line for that entrance?”

  He grinned white teeth at me. “Not long at all.”

  “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

  “Add it to my list of sins.” He turned to Kalindra. “How was he?”

  I blinked.

  Kalindra laughed. “Ah, Teraeth. Don’t be crass.”

  A flush of anger came over me. Had this been some sort of jest? A friendly wager made at the expense of the new kid? Probably it had all been just one more way to try to get their hooks into me, to find out where I was vulnerable.

  Which I’d certainly shown them. I felt like an idiot.

  “How am I being crass?” Teraeth laughed. “Maybe I wanted a recommendation before I made a pass at him myself.” He winked at me to show he was joking.

  Then he saw the look on my face.

  I didn’t think it was funny. Worse, as he moved, I caught the flash of silver from my gaesh, hanging around his wrist. He must have taken back the tarnished silver hawk from Khaemezra.<
br />
  If he decided he wanted me, there was nothing, nothing, I could do to stop him.

  So much for being allowed to say no.

  “Excuse me, Kalindra, but would you mind? I’d like to talk to Kihrin privately.”

  “Of course. I should finish my rounds anyway. I’ll see you later, Kihrin. Behave.” She smiled at me before walking back into the jungle.

  “Come,” Teraeth said. “Sit with me by the fire.”

  I did, although I wasn’t happy about it. I sat as far away from him as I possibly could while still technically sitting “with” him.

  At least it was warm.

  I pointed at the piece of jewelry containing my gaesh. “That belongs to me.”

  He unwrapped the silver chain from his wrist and handed it to me, hawk medallion swinging between his fingers. “So it does. Mother wanted me to give it back to you.”

  I swallowed, staring at the necklace as if I couldn’t quite believe it was real. Finally, I took it from him. My fingers shook as I fastened it around my neck. I felt the warm throb of energy from the metal. I inhaled, feeling like I could breathe again for the first time in weeks.

  I didn’t say “thank you.”

  We didn’t say anything for several minutes. The silence dragged out for long enough that I looked over at Teraeth to see that he was studying the flames. He looked for all the world like a man caught in the middle of an epic bout of brooding.

  Except he was smiling. Just an upturn at the corners of his mouth, but enough to turn his expression from harsh to glad. His eyes were far away.

  “What’s her name?”

  Teraeth’s attention snapped back to me. “What did you just say?”

  “What’s her name? You look like a lovestruck puppy.” I raised an eyebrow. “Is it Tyentso? It’s Tyentso, isn’t it? She’s a little old for you, but I’m not one to judge. Although I should warn you that she really only seems to get romantically excited about books. If you can disguise yourself as a collection of first-edition Grizzst’s Encyclopedia, you’re all set.”

  He laughed. “It’s no one you know. I was thinking of my wife.”

  “Wait, what? You’re married?”

  “Not now. I was married in my last life.” He waved a hand, preempting the flood of questions I was about to ask. “Yes, I know. No one’s supposed to remember their previous life after they’re reborn. I just got lucky that way. What about you? Why the hell didn’t you sleep with Kalindra?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Damn right.”

  “It’s none of your business whether I did or didn’t. And how do you know what happened? Were you spying on us?”

  He pointed a finger at me. “That answer is how I know. And I wasn’t spying, I just know Kalindra.”

  “It’s still none of your business.”

  “It’s a little bit my business. Kalindra and I are lovers.”

  I narrowed my eyes. If he’d meant that Kalindra was this “wife” he’d been pining over, he’d have said that. “Well, nothing happened. Anyway, she doesn’t belong to you.”

  “She doesn’t belong to anyone. It’s part of her charm.” Teraeth glanced sideways at me. “I encourage you to remember that when she leaves you one day—which she will.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Nothing. Happened.”

  “So you tell me. You weren’t worried sleeping with Kalindra was going to get you into trouble, were you? Believe me, that’s the last thing we care about here.”

  He was not taking the hint, so I changed tactics. “Kalindra says that Relos Var is interested in me because of a prophecy. Is that true?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Damn right.”

  He leaned back on an elbow. “So what am I supposed to say? Yes, it’s true. There’s a prophecy. Actually no, it’s more like a thousand prophecies. It’s the collected rantings of a thousand people, the demons possessing them, and whole orders of scholars have spent centuries trying to pull any kind of coherent meaning from them. Relos Var and his lord, Duke Kaen of Yor, believe the prophecies refer to an end time, a great cataclysm, when a single man of vast evil will rise up. The ‘Hellwarrior’ will conquer the Manol, strip the vané of our immortality, kill the Emperor, destroy the Empire of Quur, and free the demons. In his right hand he will hold Urthaenriel, and with his left, he will crush the world and remake it as he desires.” Teraeth sipped at his cup. “Presumably by wiping away the old gods and replacing them with himself, as is tradition.”

  “Sounds like a sweetheart.” My mouth suddenly felt dry. “So it’s that kind of prophecy.” I thought back to my dream of Taja, and the dark wave she had shown me. Everything falls.

  “Indeed.”

  “So, who is this prophesied creep? Relos Var?”

  “Duke Kaen seems to think that he is, as you put it, ‘this prophesied creep.’ Since Relos Var is his most trusted servant, Var’s working very hard to make Kaen’s grand vision a reality. Which mainly involves finding Urthaenriel. After all, if your goal is to be the prophesied tyrant who will kill all the gods, you probably need the only weapon that’s ever successfully pulled that off.”

  “So where do I come in? I don’t know where Urthaenriel is. Shouldn’t Relos Var be asking Emperor Sandus?”

  Teraeth grinned. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Did you ever stop to wonder if it’s all about me?” He put a hand to his chest. “I prefer to believe it’s all about me.”

  I flicked a thumb and forefinger against Teraeth’s shoulder. “Fine. It’s all about you. Jerk. Where’s Urthaenriel, since you know so much?”

  “Last time I saw it?” He shrugged in a lopsided way. “Falling to the floor of the Manol Jungle, but I assume some Quuros emperor has collected it since then, which means that it’s probably locked away in one of the vaults in the middle of the Culling Fields Arena, safely out of reach of Kaen, Relos Var, or anyone else who might want it. Thank the gods.”

  “Good,” I said. The idea honestly did make me feel better. “Still, I wish I knew why Relos Var hated me so much.”

  “I wouldn’t make such a wish if I were you. Someone might decide to grant it.”

  I drained the rest of my mulled wine and set the cup aside. “There’s no curse worse than a granted wish, huh? Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.” I started to stand.

  Teraeth touched the back of my hand. “Hey. Stay with me tonight. I know you’ve had a hard time of it, and this can’t be easy for you. I owe you an apology. Let me make it up to you. I promise I can be very considerate.”

  I froze. Absolutely froze in exactly the way I had with Kalindra. The flashbacks from Xaltorath hit me so hard I clenched my jaw to fight back bile. I jerked my hand from his.

  Teraeth blinked, and then the bastard looked hurt. “I meant no offense.”

  I rubbed my wrist as I looked at anyone but Teraeth. I wasn’t the only person in the area who was being propositioned for a bit of fun, but unlike me, it didn’t seem like anyone else was refusing. This was minutes, if not seconds, from turning into something I’d be embarrassed about. I was still not ready. Not with Teraeth. Especially not with Teraeth.

  “It’s not you. It’s—” I couldn’t reconcile what I was feeling. Shame? Dread?

  Teraeth studied my face. “I killed Juval too quickly.”

  “No, it’s not…” I inhaled. I didn’t want to explain. I didn’t want to stop and explain while all this was going on around us. I didn’t want to ever explain Xaltorath. Would Teraeth feel sorry for me? Have pity? Teraeth would want to fix it, and there was no fixing this.

  I stepped back. “Do you know where Tyentso is? Can I see her?”

  “I don’t see why not. She turned down my invitation too.” He pointed down one of the jungle paths. “You’ll find her on the beach.”

  I fled as quickly as my feet would take me.

  30: FAMILY REUNION

  (Talon’s story)

  The Bath
of Petals was the largest bathhouse Kihrin had ever seen. He’d been forced to yell to keep the bath attendants—clearly used to performing all manner of services not directly related to cleanliness—from putting their hands all over him. Finally, the woman in charge snorted and shooed the others away. She proceeded to handle him with the same brisk, matter-of-fact care fishwives give laundry being pounded on a rock. Her attention wasn’t the slightest bit provocative—the massage was more like a mauling—so he found her touch tolerable. Afterward, the servants poured something into his scalp that took the dye out of his hair. They trimmed and braided it, and pulled it off his face with expensive gold pins shaped like hawks with sapphire eyes. He was clipped, combed, perfumed, and dressed in the finest clothes, until he was shaking from the idea that Darzin might have saved him for a darker purpose than he’d originally imagined.

  Valrazi, the Captain of the House Guard, showed up soon after with a dozen armed soldiers. Valrazi was one of those men who, although in reality very short, was in attitude very tall. He seemed quite competent, and Kihrin thought it was probably inadvisable to make trouble with him purely for its own sake. He went with them without fuss.

  He was escorted down long avenues and past graceful colonnades—still inside the Private Court, he reminded himself—until they reached a sculpted garden of tall trees and beautiful flowering hedges, surrounding a long bathing pool. Over a dozen naked women, all young and beautiful (if as varied in color as the flowers in the garden), sported with each other in the water. In an alcove to one side, musicians played a soft air on a double-strung harp and sarod.

  Kihrin wondered if they were with the Revelers Guild.

  The paving of the garden path led to a crossroads in front of the pool, where a table sat covered with blue linen and a gold breakfast setting. A servant, dressed in bright blue, hovered to the side with a serving cart. There were two chairs: Darzin sat in the one with the best view of the women.