by Kirby Crow
Scarlet rose and stood with his fists curled, his head down, looking every inch a naughty boy caught at some mischief. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to worry you with it.”
“Oh, redbird.” Liall went to him and caught him up in his arms. He kissed him fiercely on the mouth, then pushed that silky black hair away from his forehead to kiss him there, too. “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing.”
“It is the old way,” Tesk said thoughtfully. He extended a hand to the magic-kindled fire and rubbed his fingers together, as if the flames could tell him secrets he could not divine. “The Shining Ones were the power, the Anlyribeth were the channel, before the shedding of the blood of Lyr, when all was sundered, and the power lost.”
“I don’t understand,” Scarlet muttered, his cheek pressed to Liall’s chest.
Liall feared that he did. “We are becoming what our people once were, in the days before the Ancients.”
Scarlet pulled back and looked at him strangely. He reached up and drew a lock of Liall’s hair between his fingers. “Are you becoming a wolf?”
“No,” Liall answered, shaken to his bones. “Not a wolf. A bear.”
LIALL HAD ALLOWED THE withy fire to die down to embers. Their light filled the chamber with a sullen glow, as if stubborn about dying. It was quiet without, the army encamped safely within the iron ring of Blackmoat, as safe as babes in their mother’s arms, safer than on the Temple Road, even, for beasts and predators never approached the Blackmoat or anything tainted with the black oil, and Ava Thule avoided it as if the iron walls were laced with plague.
Scarlet will never forgive me.
Margun brought him the note while Scarlet was deep in an exhausted sleep. He kept Margun with him as he read the note’s contents silently, feeling the blood drain from his face. He could not guess what his eyes gave away, but Margun took a step back.
He swallowed in a dry throat. “When did this come?”
“An hour past, no more.”
“The messenger?”
“It was a mirror message. It took some time to decipher the code.”
“How could there be a messenger?” They were weeks from any city, though Magur was not so far away. And Magur is no more, or so we thought.
“My guess is that they trailed us from Starhold, hanging back out of sight, camping a day behind us. Once we were encamped here, they could flash their message to the wheel tower and be on their way, with us none the wiser.”
And why not? As long as a man stayed on the road, few dangers could come to him, though cold and privation were always a hazard. Liall stared at the letters, at each curve and stroke, as if by reading them again and again he could make them untrue. “This is your handwriting?”
Margun nodded. “I had men watching the road. I thought perhaps Qixa would try to get word to you about his doings in the Kalaxes, or riders might come bearing news.”
Liall had not thought of that. “Did you have a man in the tower?”
Margun shook his head.
That meant they were not the only ones to receive this message. “There is a ridge to the east, outside the ring,” he said, his heart breaking. “High like a shelf, with a single tree.” He did not tell Margun how he knew about the ridge, how Alexyin had taken him there when he was a boy to tell him he must not marry Shikhoza, that Nadei was in love with her, and that if he did not stand aside it would cause a rift in his family that may never heal.
He had not listened, and in the years since, he had come to believe that Nadei’s ending was entirely his fault. Only now, with a crown on his own head, was he beginning to realize that Nadei—like Cestimir—had many faults that a king can neither afford nor survive. If Nadei had not died by Liall’s hand on that awful day, he would still surely be dead by now. Vladei would have killed him, or he’d have died like their father, a victim of his own pride and miscalculation.
“Summon Jarek. Have her bring them there in an hour. Deliver my commands and return here.”
Margun hesitated. “My lord, do you believe this message is authentic? Anyone could have sent it, even an Ava Thule, if he had the knowledge. Perhaps they captured one of our people. Magur is only four days’ ride from here, as the crow flies.”
Not on the Temple Road, Margun meant. And what kind of people left the road? Rebels, Tribelanders, and Ancients. “I know it’s real,” he answered grimly. “Do as I bid you.”
“Sire.” Margun bowed.
When he had gone, Liall crushed the paper in his fist. He glanced at Scarlet, who murmured in his sleep, disturbed by some dream. Liall wanted to comfort him, but it was better if he slept through this.
If I do this, he may never forgive me, Liall thought. Can I live with that? Can he?
He let his heart break, and then he said a silent goodbye to his sorrow. It could not be avoided. He had no choice.
The king rose and found his cloak and sword.
A WEATHER-BLASTED JUNIPER with drooping limbs afforded his horse some protection from the wind on the ridge, but he would not able to linger here long. The night winds would come soon and even a Rshani accustomed to the climate might be in danger. Also, though the iron ring repelled most predators to a healthy distance, attack was possible at any location outside the ring and not on the road.
Despite the risk, only this ridge would do. It was fitting.
Liall regarded the Blackmoat from the flat shelf of a sloping arm of rock that rose smoothly from the valley floor. Argent’s mane twitched nervously, as if flies bedeviled the beast.
Liall saw a lone figure exit from the yawning base of the wheel tower and mount up. The rider passed a cluster of urthorns huddled inside the gates and left the iron ring. Liall recognized the blue-black mane of Jarek's horse and steeled himself.
She should have brought me the news of Jochi’s treachery, he thought resentfully. Not my spies. She should have known about the Bleakwatch, too. Where was her attention that so much crept by her?
Did she know? he wondered for the hundredth time. He prayed that she hadn’t.
Liall's horse whickered as Jarek joined him on the shelf. Liall tugged on Argent’s mane reassuringly. “Of course,” he murmured. “I'd forgotten. Your horse is this one's dam, is she not?”
“She is. I’ve had Falah since she was a filly. She only threw the one colt, though, and I nearly lost both of them. Never could bear to risk breeding her again.” Her thick hair was arranged in a crown of several braids, and her armor was crusted with ice.
Argent whickered again and nosed Falah's ear. Liall thought the animal's noises sounded distinctly fond. “Odd how much animals mimic our behavior. One would think they could feel love, just like people.”
“They can. I thought you were a horseman, my lord. Horses have as many emotions as we do.”
Liall gritted his teeth. “So, you believe a horse can hate, but you don't believe my t'aishka has a soul.”
Jarek looked away and adjusted the reins in her mailled hands. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d get to that. Jochi was a fool to cross you, and I've said so. But he's not a traitor, my king, and you can't execute a Setna for the sake of a...”
“A lenilyn.” Liall looked at her. “You can cease trying to be delicate. I already know what you think of Scarlet, what you all think of him. You're wrong. You're as wrong about him as I am about that horse.” At Starhold, Jarek had said many things about Hilurin while Jochi was imprisoned and Scarlet was in the grip of his strange sleep, harsh things that he would never forget.
But I may forgive, if she remains loyal.
Jarek was stubborn. “I won't apologize for what I said in Jochi's defense. Under our laws, foreigners have no protection. But even so, can you go to every man in the Setna and present your argument? Or every man in the army, or in Rshan? A horse's ass is what they'd call you. Execute those two and it will trouble us for years, I promise you.”
“I’m not acting today because of Scarlet.”
“That's shit,”
Jarek said.
Liall cocked an eyebrow and turned his head to give her a cold look. “Is it now?”
She was fearless. “It's pure shit, my lord. You know Jochi never meant you harm. He was trying to save you.”
“Strange. I thought he was trying to convince my soldiers to hold me prisoner. A captive king. He told me himself that if he had his will, he would put Scarlet on the next boat to Kalaslyn, which would be as good as a death sentence for him. He'd be taken as soon as he set foot on the shores of Byzantur.”
Jarek frowned. “Why? Is he a criminal in his country?”
“He killed a soldier who meant to kill him. Unfortunately, the soldier had rank and was a prince's sworn man. If I know Hilurin, a death sentence has been imposed on Scarlet in absentia. Whether Jochi knows that or not is irrelevant. I don't wish my t'aishka sent from me, I don't wish him dead, and I'm the bloody damned king.” Liall took his horse's reins tighter in his hand and made himself loosen them before he spooked the beast. “I never sought the crown. I never wanted it. You know that. You know it, Jarek. But it's been pressed on me and now I will rule as I see fit.”
He watched Jarek closely, the hostile turn of her face, the way she refused to meet his eyes. “I'm not Cestimir,” he said. “I'm not your puppet and I’m not a boy whom you can train up to rule in a manner you approve of. I will command whom I will, where I will, and I will love, bed, or marry whomever I please without my arrogant subjects sticking their noses in and demanding I give account for my actions.”
“My lord—”
“Am I your king or am I not?” Liall demanded. His horse neighed in protest, sensitive to his rider’s anger.
Jarek bowed her head and crossed her hands on the pommel of her saddle. “You are my king.”
“Then you can keep your head. Tomorrow, you will lead my army to Ged Fanorl.”
“We will have to pass the Hadras,” Jarek breathed in dread. “If they have not fled that place, as we were told, that means they’re entrenched and we’ll be exposed on the road. We'll be picked off like ducks in a pond.”
“If they attack, we will dig them out and kill every one of them,” Liall said. And fuck the peacemaking. No one said anything about being a human sacrifice. “We can’t have them coming up behind us when we march to Ged Fanorl.”
“They would not have had time to fortify their position if not—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“Say it. If not for the delay at Starhold. I delayed.”
“You stayed for him. I understand love, Nazheradei. I just don’t understand your love for a foreign boy with no noble blood or particular talents.”
“He is singularly talented,” Liall said with a flat smile. “Name another living man who can call fire out of the air, and you may have an argument.”
“You're mad,” she flared. “You’re not marching to Ged Fanorl only to win a war. It's just as Alexyin said: you mean to take a lenilyn into the sacred mountain. It's forbidden—”
“Nothing!” Liall shouted her down. And I’m not planning on winning a war at all. “I'm forbidden nothing by a subject, or else I'm no kind of king at all, not even a bad one. A king commands and his people obey. You will obey me.”
Jarek stared at him. “I will obey, but I've been to the Hadras, my lord. You've seen that country. They'll be hiding, waiting deep in the caves for us to come, and when we do they'll fall on us.”
“We outnumber them.”
“How could you know this?”
Liall knew he had to tell her. “Ulan.”
“Ulan,” Jarek echoed. She nodded slowly. “The Ancients. They have done this work on your mind. I knew it. Alexyin warned me they had put their hooks into you.”
“Swear you will obey me.”
She hawked and spat as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. “That's not necessary. I have said that you're my king.”
He had never known Jarek to break her word, but they were not in ordinary times. “Swear.”
Jarek slowly drew a thin, wickedly-curved knife from her belt and pointed the tip to the breastplate of her armor. The blade tinked as it touched metal.
“I swear by body, blood, limb, and life that I am the vassal of Nazheradei of the house of Camira-Druz. I will obey you until my death.”
Liall nodded, but he was still not satisfied. She may well decide to use that knife one day. “I will hold you to that. Now, tell me what part you played in Jochi’s treachery.”
Jarek shoved the knife into its sheath with short, angry motions. “Me, sire?”
“The next time you evade my question, I will give your command and rank to Mirchen and send you to the kitchens, where prevaricating women belong.” Liall saw that his words cut Jarek deeper than her little blade would have. I can't spare any feelings for her. The facts are that I'm one man against many, and all that holds them from turning on me is a name and a crown. “You and Alexyin are thick as thieves,” Liall said ruthlessly. “Jochi would not have acted against me on his own, not without going to Alexyin or you first, especially Alexyin. They're kinsmen. He reveres Alexyin, listens to him. Jochi could live with disappointing me, but Alexyin? Never.”
“Is betrayal the price of proving my loyalty, then?”
“If that's what it takes.”
Jarek looked more wounded than Liall had ever seen. “Jochi came to me. I told him he was a fool and to put it out if his head, that he had gotten ideas far above his station and that he was inflating the danger ser Keriss posed. I thought he would listen to me.”
“He didn’t.”
“No. He ran off half-cocked and got caught. Tesk was on him before he even knew what happened. Jochi is a good counselor, but he’s a terrible spy.”
“How did he escape his confinement? Alexyin?”
She lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug. “Who else would have dared? Alexyin may have blind spots in his loyalties, but he was Queen Nadiushka's counselor at court for seventy years. He's been my friend for a century.”
“Precisely. That's why I need proof. Alexyin is not Jochi. I need your word against him before the Setna will agree that treason has been done.”
“If it is treason,” she said stubbornly, but her resolve was weakening.
Liall studied her. “You know it is, or else you wouldn't be so aggrieved. You read the same message I did, Jarek.”
Old friend, the mirror message had begun. If you cannot believe the Shikhoza you know today, I beg you to believe your old playmate, who ran with you and Jeth in the halls of the palace and never wished you harm. Alexyin planted the bomb. He planned the boar hunt to remove you from the city. If the bomb failed, his men were to attack the keriss Solda and place your t'aishka aboard a southbound ship, where he was to die at sea.
It had been signed Silverleaf. The name he had teased her with when she was only a girl.
“Did Jochi know that Scarlet was to die?” Liall demanded. If he had known even a fraction of it, he was guilty. If Shikhoza had not acted to save Scarlet, Liall would now be sending a headsman to her castle. To a great many castles. As it was, the only reason Scarlet was still alive was because of her.
Jarek brushed new frost from her horse’s mane and shook her head. “No. This was Alexyin's plan only. He freely admitted it when I interrogated him. For Prince Cestimir, he said, in payment for the death of our royal heir, which he lays solely at your t'aishka's feet. I told him he was wrong, but he wouldn't hear it.”
“And what would you do in my place, if you had the choice?” He didn't want to hear her answer, because it would signal the end of something between them. He had no illusions that Jarek still thought tenderly of him, but he had hoped to keep her friendship. He wasn't sure he could, after this.
She looked at the sky, her voice cold. “I am the king's vassal, to receive his commands and carry out his will. Before that, I was your mother's vassal, and before that I was nothing. I was a low-born soldier with a talent for war. Alexyin saw my worth and took me into the queen's service. Alexyin i
s my friend, but you are my king. In your place, I would kill him without hesitation.”
Liall wondered if he dared to believe her. “Thank you. For that, you keep your rank. You are still the khatai of my armies.”
“Don't thank me yet, my lord,” she shot back. “I'm not a girl or some court novice. I know what this will mean. It may indeed have been better for the realm and your rule to take you prisoner at Starhold, to see the boy back to his own people, to see you married to the Lady Ressilka and the nobles placated, but it wouldn't have happened that way.” A braid of her silver hair came loose in the wind and whipped over her shoulder. “We'd have had to keep you prisoner your whole life to stop you from following that boy and learning of his fate, and I know you. You would never have stopped. Although I see the reasoning behind Alexyin's actions, I do not want a puppet for a king, nor a vengeful one. Alexyin was blinded—”
“Speak no more of Alexyin.” Jarek would naturally want to defend him. Why not? He was her own kind, and Scarlet was nothing to her. She was incapable of seeing Scarlet for what he was.
Liall was beginning to understand how callous he had been toward Scarlet when he had accused him of moping and being too sensitive about what others thought. It was crushing, this bigotry and constant dislike, this blind negation of personhood. Liall felt weighted down by it, and it wasn't even directed at him! He could try for ten years to open his people’s eyes to how wrong and cruel they were, and for what? It would take a hundred years. A thousand.
How it must hurt to be seen as a lesser being, a thing, a soulless animal, by everyone around you. My poor love. I couldn't endure it for a single day.
Liall looked toward the Blackmoat. “Why is it taking so damned long?”
“He wanted to say his goodbyes.” Jarek sighed deeply. “My lord, you could offer him exile. In exile, he would be no threat to anyone.”
“No. We can do it this way, or you can slit his throat yourself in his cell.” Liall shrugged. “But I think I owe it to him to give him a last glimpse of the sky. Don't you?”