Luca bowed hastily. “Yes, my lord.”
TAEV CALLAHAN ADJUSTED the light cloth about his nose and mouth—there was little risk with inhalation, but with so much material, it did not hurt to be cautious—and raked the gathered leaves into a netted bag, tying it off. He set the bag aside and began filling another.
They had called him a tapper, as if such a thing existed outside of story, but long years had dulled their suspicion. They still regarded him at a distance, however.
But he could advance without their admiration. He could serve the kingdom and himself at once, just as they did, without playing their games of preference.
He set a third bag in the pile.
And if he carried a few others with him on his journey, well, that only made him more generous than those who would leave him behind. And if he seemed to be working for the greater good even as he helped himself, well, that couldn’t always be helped. He cared nothing for the sheep who had abandoned him to Luenda and judged him for surviving. Certainly he felt nothing for the people the Circle allegedly served, did not care for the soldiers he shielded, never saw his child-brother’s face in the refugees they passed after battles or imagined his dead tutor’s face among the grey casualties.
He tied off another netted bag and settled them all into a larger unmarked burlap sack. The Black Mage was gone, carried off again to the Ryuven world, and who knew what she might find there. She hadn’t the sense to make the best use of a situation, but he knew what to do.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
ARIANA HATED HER DECISION and herself for making it. But she had no choice. She had to make every attempt to save her kingdom.
She could not convince Oniwe’aru herself; she needed the help of a powerful Ryuven. The only Ryuven likely to hear her was Tamaryl, and this meant she had to ingratiate herself to him once more.
She felt filthy even planning such a thing, as if she were whoring her friendship to gain what she wanted, making it currency in her desperate diplomacy. But she had no other options remaining. No one but a prince doniphan of the Ryuven—whatever that was—could forestall the coming disaster.
She prayed Tamaryl could.
She went to the archway opening onto the corridor and beckoned to the first nim she saw. “I would like to speak with Tamaryl’sho.” She had wondered whether it would be more correct to go to him or to ask that he come to her and decided to leave it to the nim’s interpretation.
The nim hesitated. “Er, Ariana’rika, that is, I’m not sure if you are to...” Apparently he was not certain, either, of protocol or Ariana’s dubious privileges. He rallied and offered, “I will ask Maru to arrange a meeting.”
Clever one, passing the responsibility. Ariana nodded. “I know Maru and would be glad of his help. Please speak to him as soon as you can.”
She returned to her room and climbed onto the narrow bed—the design must have something to do with their wings—and pressed herself against the wall, her arms wrapped about her legs and her chin on her knees. The thought of falsely reconciling with Tamaryl was upsetting, but the thought of using Maru was even more so. Maru had cared for her when she was painfully ill, had become a prisoner in her world only through his concern for his friend, and had not joined in Oniwe’s and Tamaryl’s attack in the Wheel’s cellar. He was a Ryuven, one of those who would ravage her world, but she did not want to lie to him.
She clenched her fists until her nails bit at her palms like the foreign magic gnawed at her mind. She would do what must be done.
SOREN PUSHED HIMSELF from his desk and strode jerkily about the office, squeezing his fists. Like a wraith, Ethan appeared silently in the door, his eyes questioning.
Soren made a quick gesture. “No, I don’t need anything. I just—king’s oats, I have to move. Do something. I feel so—the shield is decaying around us, the Circle says there is nothing to extend it, and when it falls we will be overrun with Ryuven.” He faced the servant. “I know you know all this. But ’soats, must we just wait for it?” He spun and moved across the room again.
Ethan said nothing.
Soren stopped and sank into his chair again, resting his head in his hands. “They’re our people, Ethan. The farmers and herdsmen who will be raided, the soldiers who will fight and die, the merchants in the towns we’ll guard... All of them are our people, my people, and I can’t do anything to protect them.”
“Not so, my lord. You direct and support those who can.”
Soren looked at him disconsolately. “The Great Circle? Whose White Mage is still an invalid, whose Black Mage is abducted and perhaps, I pray not, tortured for our weaknesses? And I fear I’m stretching the Silver to limits. If I ask her once more about extending the shield, she might use me to fuel it.”
“The Circle is more than its individuals, you have said,” Ethan reminded him quietly. “And there are others.”
“Yes, others—our army, our well-trained and well-equipped army.” Soren did not mention Shianan Becknam, pale and wasted.
Ethan, though, knew what he thought as always. “His lordship is recovering.”
Soren gave him a flat look. “In time to be sent to the next Luenda.”
Ethan had no answer for that.
Soren sighed and looked at his desk. “I know there’s nothing to be done. I’m only chafing here. Go back to your work. I’ll get by.”
Ethan did not retire but hesitated in the doorway.
“Oh, king’s sweet oats,” sighed Soren. “What now?”
“The Wakari contingent is en route and making good time. They will likely arrive to shelter in Alham while we are meeting the Ryuven.”
“Good,” Soren said curtly. “Then I won’t be on hand to meet Princess Valetta, and that will be one less concern on my mind.”
“ARIANA’RIKA, MAY I enter?”
Ariana felt such a surge of gratitude at Maru’s polite request that she sprang up and threw her arms around the startled Ryuven, bumping his recoiling wings and knocking them both off-balance. “Maru! I’m so glad to see you.” She was surprised to realize she spoke honestly, not merely as part of her scheme to enlist help. “Really, I am.”
He was moving away, carefully disentangling himself. “Ariana’rika, I did not know how to expect—I am glad you are...”
Ariana hesitated. “You thought I would be angry with you.”
Maru avoided her eyes. “Possibly.”
She took a breath and plunged ahead with her plan. “I want to speak with Tamaryl. We have to speak about what—what happened, and about what we can do to stop what may happen. Will he see me?” She guessed a sense of hesitation might carry her further.
“I’m sure he will. I will take you to him. Er, I don’t suppose you have been given any, perhaps, suggestions as to where you might go?”
Ariana shook her head. “I have been to see Oniwe’aru, and I have otherwise stayed mostly here. No one has given me any restrictions that I know of. I don’t much care for walking about alone, as you might understand.”
Maru nodded. “If no one has directed otherwise, then we will go to his house. This way.”
It seemed other Ryuven avoided them in the corridors. Ariana wondered whether this was due to her presence or if Maru, servant to the Pairvyn and a recent prisoner of humans, experienced it, too.
As they walked, she noticed a few furtive glances from Maru. “What is it?” she asked, shifting her Ryuven clothing self-consciously and tugging at the slits over her exposed back. “I know it’s not exactly mine, but am I embarrassing myself?”
Maru, abashed, looked straight ahead. “I’m sorry, Ariana’rika. It is only—it is odd to see you so. I am accustomed to your own garb, but in Ryuven garments you look...”
Ariana stifled a giggle. “Startlingly attractive?”
“No! No, you look rather... deformed.” Maru flushed. “I’m sorry, I—please, I did not mean that you—it’s only that this emphasizes your slim torso and lack of wings. I mean, of course humans aren’t meant to have
...”
Ariana pushed past the apologizing Ryuven. “I understand.” She strode briskly forward, keeping her eyes ahead. “Actually, a slim torso is considered desirable among humans.”
She felt stupid. She had requested Ryuven garb to make herself more presentable to Oniwe’aru, and in fact she had only made herself ridiculous. Even ancient human art had added wings as an accoutrement of power and beauty. How could the Ryuven respect her when their clothing slipped and fell over her?
Maru called after her. “Ariana’rika, we turn here.”
She stopped, bit fiercely at the inside of her cheek, and then turned back to Maru and the corner she’d ignored. He looked apologetic and uncomfortable. She paused beside him and swallowed her pride. “Should I return for my own clothes?”
Maru shook his head. “I am sorry for what I said. Some might find you quite exotic in your—humanness.”
Ariana felt her expression slip. “Some? Might?”
Maru flushed again. “I do not seem to be able to speak without offense, Ariana’rika. Please trust that Tamaryl’sho is quite familiar with human standards of appearance.”
But the Ryuven clothing emphasized her incompleteness, in Ryuven eyes. Ariana sighed. “As you say. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY
“YOUR HIGHNESS! THE shield has fallen!”
Soren rolled from his mattress and landed already reaching for the tunic he’d abandoned for his nap. “How long ago?”
“Word only just came, my lord.” Ethan was bringing Soren’s boots. “Council is of course called.”
“I’d supposed as much. Have the mages recognized anything?”
“I believe so,” Ethan answered, “but it was unclear exactly what.”
“It will be an invasion,” Soren predicted flatly. “That’s hardly in question. What we need to know is where and how soon.”
Sweet all, this would be disastrous.
SHIANAN KNEW AT THE knock on the door, before Luca even admitted the soldier bearing urgent news. He knew the impermanent shield had at last collapsed, knew the Ryuven invasion had launched, knew he would lead his men to mortal battle. Thoughts unfamiliar in the face of combat jostled through his head—thoughts of Ariana, Soren, Luca.
He shoved them fiercely aside and met the soldier’s and Luca’s white-rimmed eyes. “What have the mages learned?”
THE MARKINGS ON THE map seemed to blur into one another. Soren blinked and reached for his half-empty cup of tea.
“This ravine will be our primary handicap,” General Septime continued, indicating on the map. “It will trap our men without hindering the Ryuven. But if we keep them to this side, our mages will be able to erect shields to disrupt their flight and give our archers a chance.”
Mage Parma nodded and leaned over the map. “The Circle will be here and here, which will give us the best coverage of the area. We’ll have grey mages on either side of us in each location.”
“We’ll need more greys to reinforce our soldiers here. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a unit here, if we can. If we’re pushed against that ravine, we’ve lost everything.”
No one voiced aloud the truth, that they had already lost everything. Open battle against thousands of winged opponents, able to use magic from a safe distance, was all but useless. The army moved only to slow the slaughter of the countryside’s populace and prevent an easy assault on the capital.
The army could save the kingdom, but it could not survive the attempt. Few had returned from Luenda.
“We’ll want to approach from the east,” Septime indicated. “The flux has spread, as of our last reports.” He tapped a shallow valley. “It’s moving downriver... It doesn’t kill many, but it will render its victims utterly useless for fighting. We must avoid it.”
Uilleam, Grand Chancellor of the Realm, frowned. “Our leaders in this battle... I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we are concerned for the condition of Mage Hazelrig for his own sake and yet anxious for his presence in this time of need.”
Soren gestured to draw their attention. “I saw the White Mage myself again yesterday. He is still weak, but he assures me he is convalescing. I do not think he will allow himself to stay behind, even if he is not completely recovered.”
A few looked surprised that he had visited the mage, but that was their own concern. Soren owed no explanation for his visits to either Hazelrig or Becknam.
Uilleam nodded, and Chancellor Washe sat forward. “And what of Bailaha? I heard he was recovering in the mage’s home.”
“He was. I saw him as well.” Soren kept his eyes from the head of the table, where King Jerome stared fixedly at the map. “He will be there too, I have no doubt.”
“We might put the commander here,” Kannan pointed, shifting the discussion back to strategy, “and the White Mage here with this group. The Silver Mage would be here, and our other divisions here, here, and south here. I could be here, Septime here, and His Highness along here. Your thoughts, my lords?”
Not long after, the council ended for the night. Soren stifled a yawn as they left the table; he was tired, and he did not expect to sleep much in the coming days. He wanted to go to bed. He hoped Ethan had kept something to eat in his room, to save sending to the kitchen.
“Soren.”
He turned, straightening as he faced his father. The king placed a hand on Soren’s shoulder and looked at him soberly. “Soren, I leave this in your hands. You will be the one to save our kingdom. I place this in your care.”
Soren gaped. In his care? Save the kingdom—or destroy it! They faced an overwhelming challenge in the massing Ryuven, and now if—when—their army was devastated, the responsibility would lie on Soren’s shoulders?
He shook his head. “No, I can’t do this alone. You can’t give me responsibility for this—”
“Whom else could I trust in my stead?” The king gave him a smile. “And when you succeed, of course, you will have a fine victory to display before the princess.” He looked pleased with himself. “Go, Soren, and save our kingdom. Save us all.”
Soren’s throat closed, and he managed a quick bob before retreating. In my hands! Sweet Holy One, save us—in my hands!
MARU LED ARIANA THROUGH a gateway—she still thought them gateways, though she rarely saw actual gates—and into the airy patio where a cheerful fountain provided a quiet backdrop of sound. “Wait here, if you please, Ariana’rika. I will bring Tamaryl’sho.”
“No need. I’m here.” Tamaryl stepped from a portico and looked at them warily. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this... unexpected visit?”
Maru glanced at Ariana expectantly. She took a breath. “I wanted to speak with you.”
Tamaryl made a tiny gesture. “On what point?”
“Perhaps there is a way we can help one another...”
Tamaryl raised an eyebrow, his expression cool. “And how is that, my lady mage, as our intended ends are quite different?”
“They’re not!” she snapped. “You want to avoid fighting, and I want to avoid fighting. You want to find a peaceful resolution, and I want to find a means of trade. Only Oniwe’s raid is—”
“I am commanded to see this raid done,” Tamaryl interrupted. “Would you have a slave of so many years disobey his orders?”
Maru edged away, sensing the conversation would not improve.
Heat rose in Ariana and the air began to prickle at her bare skin. “Don’t hide behind that, you hypocrite! That was your own bargain and you were no base slave. Do you or don’t you wish to end this war?”
Tamaryl’s expression flashed to something dangerous and then smoothed again. “I have been working to that end for the span of your life, Ariana’rika.”
“How have you done so? By hiding in my world? By attacking my friend and my father?” She choked, startled by her own mention of the forbidden wounds. Foreign magic bit at her.
Somehow Tamaryl was suddenly close, very close, his breath scorching her as he leaned over her and snarl
ed, “Do you somehow think that I do not grieve as well? Your father risked his life for me. I loved him too.” He shook his head. “Your selfish mind cannot comprehend why I do what I do.”
“Selfish? I only want to save lives! Why can’t you see that?”
“You do not see half of what I wish you to see.” He turned and started for the portico with long strides, his wings rigid and high.
The fountain was absurdly loud, drowning Ariana’s hearing. She had failed, she had done everything wrong, she had driven him further and she was utterly alone and he would sacrifice her people for his own...
She choked out a word. “Tam.” It was the hardest thing she’d ever said, calling him back, and she didn’t know if she even wanted him to return. But the name came anyway. “Tam!”
He hesitated and half-turned. Ariana clenched her fists and tried to think, tried to breathe. Magic prickled over her, biting at her, making it impossible to focus on the whirling thoughts which had no form.
“My lady?”
He shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have called her by the familiar old address... If he had called her Ariana’rika, had kept a distance between them...
Ariana choked and dropped on the fountain’s edge, scattering colorful fish. She ground her knuckles into the cool stone. “Beast! Monster! I hate what you did, I hate it, and yet you’re the only friend I have in this—and I don’t think I can trust you, I don’t want you near me, and yet I want to turn to someone, some friend, after you’ve betrayed me—and I want you, you monster! I want to cry to you about you! Do you know how twisted that is?”
She couldn’t see him. She stared at her knees through a clouding threat of tears as Ryuven magic jabbed savagely at her. She was aware of him moving toward her, but she could not think what to do about it, or even if she wanted to stop him. Already she was ashamed of her outburst, and already it was beyond her power to recall.
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