by Glenda Larke
She smiled down at him, and entwined her hand with his. Then she held the interlocked hands up for him to see. ‘Look,’ she whispered. ‘Look at that, and tell me you want to die.’
She looked so smugly pleased he couldn’t help himself; he laughed.
And Davron of Storre began to heal.
~~~~~~~
Chapter Thirty-Three
And why should we stop there? Once there were other lands: Yedron and Yefron, Bellisthron and Brazis. Once there was a sea that stretched beyond the horizon. Should we not seek to find these places again?
—from the later writings of Meldor the Blind
Meldor leant against the railing of the balcony that overlooked the audience room of the Hall. The map tables had been long since cleared away. Now there were rows of chairs for the dignitaries who’d be taking part in the ceremony to come, and at the head of the room there were ten thrones side by side. Meldor could not see what was happening below, but his other senses told him that some of the middle-ranking Tricians and clerics had already arrived. Conversation drifted upwards and with a little effort he could separate one voice from another.
‘—colour everywhere,’ someone was muttering venomously. ‘Shouldn’t be allowed—’
Mingled in with the voices was the faint tinkling of chantor bells sewn to stoles of office. When he listened carefully and used his ley to filter out other noise, he could even hear someone, a servant presumably, brushing the velvet that covered the thrones. Shortly Rugriss Ruddleby’s reluctant backside would be gracing one of those chairs next to the Margrave of Havenstar. Meldor felt a very unregal satisfaction.
A moment later the door behind him opened. Someone must have seen him up on the balcony and he turned, senses alert. Pleasure arrived hard on the heels of his surprise. ‘Keris!’ he said. ‘My dear, I’m delighted you came. Is Davron here too?’
‘Yes, indeed.’ She walked to stand at his side, and looked down into the Hall. ‘He’s down there now. And don’t tell me you didn’t know.’
‘Yes, I knew. I can feel his ley at five hundred paces. But tell me, how is he? How does he look?’
He sensed her softening. ‘He is well. Today, in fact, he’s rather magnificent, if I may say so. He’s dressed in scarlet and black and he wears enough gold jewellery to sink a wildbell.’
‘Ah. I gather from that he intends to be a slap in the face to Chantry.’
She laughed. ‘Of course! He—he is finding it hard to accept what you’re doing, Margraf. As you know, his feelings toward Chantry are decidedly, er, mixed.’
‘I can hardly blame him. But I have my reasons.’
She turned towards him, seeking something in his face. ‘Then tell me. Why must you deal with them? I know they came to our aid when the Minions attacked. I know they helped us defeat those who survived the burning of the maps. But we both know they initially came to wipe us off the face of the land. Why must we deal with men and women who’d rather see us dead than see us free?’
‘I would not deal with them at all, except we’re in the position to dictate terms. Keris, no mapmaker outside Havenstar has discovered how easy it is to make trompleri maps. They all still think that you have to dig in ley lines to find the ingredients, and even with the Unmaker gone, they are chary of the vagaries of ley. They would rather buy their trompleri paints and inks from us. And none of them knows how we use maps to stabilise the Unstable. The Margraves do not know. Chantry does not know. They all have to come to us, to ask us to make their stabilities bigger, to convert the Unstable for them. As the old saying goes, we own the quarry for the stone to make the house.’
‘Then why make concessions to Chantry? Why are you allowing them and their sanctimonious encoloured inside Havenstar to set up their chanteries?’
‘Because it means they will acquiesce to what I want—what we want in return.’
‘Which is?’
‘All land south of the Writhe and the Riven, all the way to the borders of Yedron, if the place still exists. To do whatever we want, including impregnate it with ley to make a land suitable for people like you and me and Scow. We build for the future. With this treaty, signed by the Anhedrin and every single Margrave, we become a separate nation, not part of what will be New Malinawar. We will truly be Havenstar, separate and free and different.’
‘And Chantry-guided.’
He laughed. ‘I doubt it. Keris, think. Chantry has based their power on keeping Order, on the necessity of the Rule and maintaining kinesis chains. Now none of those things are necessary! As a consequence, Chantry is desperately scheming for power and losing out to the Margraves, and at the same time they’re having to fight a battle for ascendancy over the hearts and minds of people who don’t need them any more.’ He shook his head in mock sympathy. ‘Let them come. If they want any credibility then they must cater to the people’s need for spiritual guidance. As a temporal power they are finished. But I am not so foolish as to think they can be ignored forever. People need them.’
She was silent for such a long time he wondered if she accepted what he said.
Finally she said in a voice that was barely a whisper. ‘He touched us both, out there. That day when I burned the map.’
‘Pardon?’
‘The Maker.’
He absorbed the implications of that and felt a pang of painful jealousy begin behind his breastbone. With effort he pushed it back down. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We both felt Him. And I can tell you one thing, He doesn’t need to be worshipped. He doesn’t even need to be thanked. Why should He? He is the Creator! All He wants of us is that we take care of That Which Was Created—nothing more.’
Lord Maker, he thought, his bitterness almost overwhelming. Why did You come to her? Why not me? He took a deep breath and subdued the pain. ‘Keris, it has never been He who needs us. But that’s a subject for a long philosophical discussion, not something we have time for now! We will talk of it another time. Did you have a particular reason for seeking me out just now?’
‘No. Just to—to say congratulations, I guess.’
He heard the dryness in her tone and matched it with his own. ‘You think I’m inhuman, don’t you?’ He blocked off the sounds from the hall and concentrated wholly on her, making her the total focus of his being. Others called it charisma, but he knew it was nothing more than a trick of calculated concentration, turned on and off at will. He said, his candour deliberate, ‘The larger picture has always seemed … more important to me than the players. If that is a crime, then I am guilty.’
‘Yes, you are,’ she said, forthright as usual. ‘When we got back from our trip, for example, you could at least have asked us about—well, the more personal aspects. Instead of just wanting to know how many trompleri maps I’d made and whether Rugriss Ruddleby had listened to what Davron had to say.’
‘Ah.’ So that was what rankled was it?
Once the last of the maddened Minions and pets had been despatched or scattered, he’d sent Davron, Keris and Scow out to all the stabilities of Old Malinawar, carrying Havenstar’s message: for the price of a treaty, Havenstar would sell them stability. Keris had mapped some of the crucial regions of the Unstable as they went, making the first of the trompleri maps they would one day burn—in secret—to fulfil their side of the treaty. Davron as negotiator had spoken with the Margraves and even, reluctantly, with Rugriss Ruddleby. Eventually, he’d promised them, all the Unstable north of the Riven and Writhe would be stable. He’d not given the rulers of the stabilities a time frame, because Meldor had no intention of achieving it too quickly. For Havenstar’s sake, he intended to make the stabilities pay, well into the future, for every bit of land that was claimed back from the Unstable.
The trip had been a long one. It was a year before Keris and Davron and Scow had ridden back into Havenstar. ‘Not as bad a journey as it used to be,’ Davron had said laconically after greeting Meldor. ‘With no Carasma lurking in the ley lines, or unmaking the landscape, with far
fewer Minions or pets than there used to be, things are much tamer out there.’
‘Don’t believe him,’ Keris had contradicted. ‘Make him tell you about the Minions that attacked us near the Fourth, or the pet that ate one of our horses as we crossed the Wide, or the whirlwind that came through our camp up near Bartle’s Halt.’
In time, Meldor had indeed heard about those incidents, and he’d read Davron’s official report, but he’d never bothered to ask whether Davron had gone to see his daughter, or if Keris had seen her older brother. It hadn’t seemed important.
‘Remiss of me,’ he admitted now. ‘I do know that you went to the Fifth twice during your trip, but Davron’s daughter has not returned with you to Havenstar. And I can hear the pain in him still.’ He hesitated. ‘Is it now too late to ask what happened?’
Once again she was silent so long he wondered if she was going to reply at all. Then she said carefully, ‘Yes, we went to the Fifth twice. In the stabs he is a hero, you know. The man who banished the Unmaker. It’s a little hard to take, but at least it opens doors. Tower-and-Fleury had to welcome him. But it was…difficult for Mirrin. She has such conflicting memories of what happened the day she met Carasma. And her mother poured all sorts of nonsense into her ears before she vanished into Chantry. They are not barriers you can break down in a day or two. However, she is a bright, kind-hearted little girl, and time mends most things.’ She smiled. ‘And she has a lively curiosity. I write to her, you know, telling her about the magic of Havenstar, and she’s gradually developing a desire to see for herself. Unfortunately, she cannot bring herself to cross a ley line. So we’ll have to wait until we have made the stability roads between all the stabs and Havenstar.’
‘You are not going to give up.’
He felt her slow smile. ‘Me? No.’ And then she sighed. ‘He still does not find it easy, Meldor. Those who remember Dawnbreak call him the Betrayer. In the streets of Shield there are those who spit on him. There is still …a darkness in him. She could take that away.’
He nodded. ‘I know.’ He turned away from the Hall and faced her once more. ‘And what of you? Did you see your brother?’
‘Yes. He runs a successful tavern now, where Kaylen the Mapmaker’s used to be.’ There was another long pause. ‘My mother died about three weeks after I left Kibbleberry.’
‘Ah.’ Aware that an expression of sympathy would have been suspect, he switched the topic back to Thirl Kaylen. ‘Did your brother give you any problems?’
‘He might have done, except that he’s scared silly of Davron. And Davron paid for the things I stole.’ He heard laughter in her voice as she added, ‘Except for the dowry money. Davron just fixed him with one of those black stares of his and growled, “That was intended as a dowry, and that’s what it was. If you want it back, ask me for it.” Thirl didn’t say another word.’
‘Is there anything else I should ask to redeem myself? Perhaps I should ask after Scow. Where is he? Why didn’t he come today?’
‘I believe he is visiting Corrian. He said to tell you that not even the promise of the most lavish repast in all the history of Havenstar could get him to sit through eight Margraves and Rugriss Ruddleby making speeches.’
Meldor laughed ‘Something hasn’t changed, at least! Still, I do wish he was here. The Chameleon too.’ There, another sign of concern.
Her voice softened. ‘Yes.’ She had trouble getting the words out. ‘Maker, how I—how I miss him!’
They fell silent for a moment, remembering. There were so many who would not be present at the signing ceremony. So many who had died battling Minions and pets. So many who had simply vanished, eaten perhaps. The pang Meldor felt was suddenly genuine. He said, ‘He will never be forgotten. He is already part of Havenstar legend.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘But he’s not here.’
He nodded, knowing what she meant, and with a touch of smugness, played his winning piece. ‘One more thing, Keris. I added a codicil to the treaty we are signing with Chantry. One more requirement I have demanded of them. Perhaps it will help to—er—appease Davron when he learns of it.’
She looked at him in inquiry. ‘Oh?’
He nodded towards the closed door of an anteroom in front of them. ‘Why don’t you take a look.’
Mystified, she went to open the door. She expected to find some sort of document; instead Nablon was there, watching over a small boy seated on the floor, engrossed in the movement on a trompleri map in front of him.
Nablon’s mandibles clacked in embarrassment. ‘Oh, Mistress! One of your maps, I’m sorry. It was the only thing I had to amuse a six-year-old.’
She stared long and hard before turning back to Meldor. ‘Six-year-old?’
He nodded. ‘It’s amazing what you can prise away from Chantry if you have the right price.’
‘Oh. Oh, Meldor—!’
It was just as well that no one in the Hall below looked up just then. Otherwise they would have seen the Margrave of Havenstar being soundly kissed by another man’s wife.
~~~~~~~
Davron was suffering the attentions of Cylrie Mannertee when a servant appeared at his side to tell him that his wife would like to see him in the anteroom. Gratefully, he turned back to Cylrie. ‘Hedrina, you must excuse me.’
She smiled coyly. ‘Of course, Milor’. One must always obey the summons of one’s spouse. But we shall meet again, I hope? And soon…perhaps?’
Gracefully he kissed her fingertips in a very Trician gesture, and smiled charmingly. ‘Not if I can help it,’ he said.
He was already out of the hall before the import of his words had sunk in.
The servant, half awed and half fearful just at being in his presence, ushered him to the anteroom and bowed reverently before leaving. Davron had not expected to find Keris alone, but neither had he expected to find her in the company of a child.
‘What have we here?’ he asked. Black eyes looked up at him solemnly from under a shock of equally black hair and he found himself smiling under the critical scrutiny.
‘This is someone I’d like you to meet,’ Keris said, her voice husky. ‘Sent by Meldor.’
‘Oh?’ Mildly curious, he came over to the lad and knelt beside him. ‘My name’s Davron Storre. What’s yours?’
The child regarded him solemnly. ‘In the chantery they called me Avred. But this lady says my daddy called me Staven. She says I’ll know my daddy cos he’s got black eyes just like mine.’ His features rearranged themselves into a picture of childish concentration. ‘You’ve got black eyes. Does that make you my daddy?’
He caught his breath, the pain of memory and hope inextricably mixed as they spasmed his insides. It seemed an aeon before he could clear his throat and say with a semblance of calm, ‘Yes, I rather think it must. If you’ll have me.’ He reached out to slide the boy on to his knee and two chubby arms responded by wrapping themselves around his neck. Davron, unable to say anything more, raised his gaze to Keris over the top of the dark curls and reached for her hand.
Outside, trumpets blared to mark the arrival of the Margraves of the Eight Stabilities and the Anhedrin, but neither Keris nor Davron even heard them. In a nearby anteroom, the Margrave of Havenstar, waiting for the time to make his own grand entrance, schemed while his manservant fussed about the set of his sleeves.
Yedron, he was thinking. We really must find out what happened to Yedron…
~~~~~~~~
About the author
Glenda Larke has nine other books traditionally published in print editions in three distinct trilogies:
The Isles of Glory
The Aware
Gilfeather
The Tainted
The Mirage Makers
The Heart of the Mirage
The Shadow of Tyr
The Song of the Shiver Barrens
The Watergivers (Stormlord trilogy)
The Last Stormlord
Stormlord Rising
Stormlord’s Exile
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Another trilogy will be published soon, the first book of which is entitled:
The Lascar’s Dagger.
Some of the above are also available as ebooks. You can find out more about Glenda and her books at her website here: http://www.glendalarke.com There is also a better map of Havenstar available there. She also has a blog at http://www.glendalarke.blogspot.com Her Twitter account is @glendalarke
The website of the mapmaker, artist Perdita Phillips, can be found here: http://perditaphillips.com