Jevin shrugged. "That would have been impossible. You have to remember that Ealla was formed when the eastern lords of Jania revolted and broke with Jania during the Shattering. Even after a thousand years they fear Jania and would fight to the death to avoid being reconquered. They'd never consider granting a Janian force safe passage."
Words stuck in my throat. I felt angry because no one had saved my country and my family. I was angry with Hamis for conquering us, and I was mad at Ealla for barring any aid Jania might have given us. Most of all I felt angry at myself. "It's so frustrating, Jevin. And so silly. I'm angry at myself because I survived:"
The Fealareen sighed and a milky white membrane nictitated over his eyes as he squeezed my shoulder. "You are not alone in that, my friend. At least you know why you are no longer in your homeland, and you exercised some choice in that matter. I was sent here as an infant, exiled from a place seen fit for only my kind." Jevin looked away, toward the east, and I shared his longing to head back home.
Then he turned back and smiled. "Let us not dwell on the morose during a celebration. Tell me of your family, of the good times. Tell me what life is like outside Talianna."
Chapter Five
Talion: Morai
"That's most interesting, Talion. I would not have thought Talianna a place of such broad training." Selia, mounted upon a bay gelding, reined her horse around the end of a log fallen across the woodland path we took and watched my profile for a reaction. The sunlight, where it pierced the green, leafy forest pavilion above us, burned white highlights into her hair. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, both cooling us and making enough noise to make me nervous.
After Grath's execution I stopped at the tavern long enough to change into some dry clothing. I wanted to head back for the pass just west of Pine Springs as soon as possible. Even though the rain would have wiped out Morai's trail, I knew that pass was the one he'd taken. Like the Pine Springs pass it led to Memkar, but it was a harder trail, full of twists and turns ideal for bandits and ambushers.
When I'd gathered all my things together, and the tavern-keeper's son Drew had fetched Wolf for me, I found Selia ready to leave as well. She asked if she could accompany me and, while I wanted to refuse her, I guessed she had it in her mind to follow me to Morai, so I welcomed her along. With her riding in my company, I could keep her safe, and she was certainly more talkative than Wolf.
"Selia, you think of Talianna as a big military camp. Everyone does. Warriors are forged of steel, Justices are demons in human form. We're not supposed to understand philosophy or have a grasp of more than military history." I watched the trail up ahead of us and slowed our pace a bit. The trail wound up and around a hillside, then disappeared into a woody tunnel of darkness. "We are instructed in more than purely martial disciplines."
"My apologies. I've never spoken with a Talion who is so candid about his life." Her smile was genuine and friendly. "It's a very enlightening experience."
I shot her a sideways glance and snorted a laugh. "I certainly hope so. We've ridden for two days and other than comments about the weather or food the only thing you've done is ask me questions about Talianna." I turned in the saddle and faced her smiling. "If I didn't have this death's-head on my jerkin I'd think I was the minstrel and that you were the taciturn and mysterious Talion."
Selia threw her head back and laughed. "I can see your point. Shall I tell you about myself?"
I bowed my head and faced forward again. "Please do. I'll need the time to rest my voice so I can tell Morai to stop running." I also needed to concentrate on the woods and watch for Morai and his compatriots. They traveled at a slower pace than we set and we were no more than a half day behind Morai, Brede, and Tafano.
"Very well, Talion, I will tell you my life story." She shifted, sat a bit taller in the saddle, and hooked a strand of blond hair behind her right ear. "My full, true name is Selia ra Jania ulPatria."
That remark caught my attention much as finding a scorpion in a boot might. I jerked my head around and studied her. "You're ulPatria?"
She reined her horse up and fixed me with a very surprised stare. "Come now, Talion, you can't be superstitious about the ul!"
I recovered quickly and shook my head. "I don't think I am, but not many people run around admitting they are ul as openly as that. And, given who we're chasing, these woods are fairly thick with them."
She frowned and gently dug her heels into the gelding's ribs to start him walking again. "Morai is ul?" There was a bit of disappointment in her voice.
I grinned and shook my head. "No, not him. Brede ulRia."
Selia sighed with relief. "He is not truly ul." And though she didn't say it I could tell she was relieved Morai had no such simple motivation for his actions.
"How can you refuse to claim Brede? He was royalty and he's been disinherited. And you certainly can't deny his litany of crimes rivals that of the greatest ullords."
Selia shook her head violently. Through a curtain of blond hair I could see tightly closed eyes and a grim, thin line of a mouth. "I can't believe you'd judge the uls by a few distorted legends. Talions—Justices in particular like yourself—should understand how the truth could get twisted into fearful and unfounded stories."
I snorted. "Oh, then none of the bloody tales are true?"
She opened her mouth to protest, thought, then closed it again. "All right, I'll concede first blood to you, but the fight's not over. Might I explain?" She took my nod as agreement to both points and continued. "You know from the legends that ul families are those families of nobles who were ousted from power during the Shattering. Rebels or other nobles drove the rulers out and their families, when they escaped, were left to wander the Empire and beyond looking for aid. Since virtually all the provinces had new leadership and proclaimed themselves sovereign states, no one looked favorably upon the uls. Just harboring them could be seen by a neighbor as a hostile act, so the disinherited families had to keep moving and remain constantly vigilant against attacks."
I laughed lightly and relaxed. We'd reached the top of the hill and the trail below wound through a grassy meadow where any ambush would be difficult to stage or execute. "Selia, you make it sound as if the old nobles just kindly left their nations when asked. As I recall there were many brutal civil wars at that time. Even today tyrannicide is still considered justifiable."
She smiled. "Your point is well taken, but your caution is a sword that cuts with both edges." Some of the anger I'd sparked left her and she relaxed into a more comfortable, storytelling mood. "Do not assume, Talion, that all the provinces fell in violence. Patria is a perfect example. The King realized neither of his legitimate sons was competent. After destroying the corruption in his government he turned the power structure over to the rebel Marcherlords. He even arranged for his two sons to be executed so they could not be used by others to seize power. On his deathbed he legitimized all his children, creating the ulPatria, but they never made any stab at power and settled elsewhere in great peace."
I frowned. "Having his own sons slain does little to make the King a hero in my eyes. No offense intended, but that's just another story of court intrigue and murder."
Selia nodded her head. "It is that, but it's hardly the bloodiest tale from those times. Take Hamis as an example. There Prince Roderick killed his father and eldest brother to take the throne. His other elder brother, Uriah, was out of the country at the time, and remained in exile for over three decades. Roderick's own son Roderick, after years of putting up with his father's mad plans for assassinating Uriah, killed his father. He invited Uriah back to Hamis to heal the family rift. Uriah returned and Roderick murdered him.
"The legends have it that Uriah fathered a family while in exile, and that the House of Hamis is always afraid that an ulHamis will come to reclaim the throne. The ulHamis are one of the few families that have a legitimate blood tie to the current Throne House."
I controlled my emotions concerning Hamis and dismissed t
hem with a laugh. "I've yet to hear a story from you that does anything but strengthen the case for Brede being ulRia. He's disinherited nobility with a record of bloody crimes so horrid that the King sealed the records and outlawed the name 'Brede' within Ria's borders."
Selia shivered with disgust then smiled ironically. "Actually, Talion, the Bastard of Ria has no claim to the throne. As you will recall his mother, Queen Candra, confessed in the King's Court that Brede was the product of an adulterous affair, even though that admission made her life forfeit."
I nodded slowly. Again our trail took us into a dark woods, where it slithered through high, shadowy tunnels of overarching trees and around brush strewn hillocks. I had a bad feeling about this stretch of the trail, and as the time was right, I suggested we stop for a rest and some food. We dismounted and let our horses graze while we ate some of the bread and cheese we'd brought from Pine Springs.
If someone waited to ambush us, I was content to let him lie in wait a bit longer during the heat of the day.
"Selia, you know as well as I do that Queen Candra's testimony was a lie. It was the only way her son could be kept from the throne without a civil war." I finished the last of my cheese and tossed a crust of bread to a chipmunk daring enough to pop up on the end of the fallen tree I was using as a bench.
The minstrel smiled. "Can't have it both ways, Talion. If he was a noble they couldn't have disinherited him, and if he's not a noble he can't be ulRia."
I bowed my head to her. "Now you've blooded me. I do acknowledge that not all uls have a family history drenched in blood, and that grouping Brede with any people is a grave insult indeed. Still, and getting back toward my original surprise, you don't strike me as typical of the ul. Uls roam the Shattered Empire in great colorful caravans. They stop wherever they want and set up little tent-and-cart villages. They claim that they have enough blood of each royal family in them to have a right to any land they want. They tell fortunes, sing forgotten songs, and keep ancient traditions alive. Was your life like that?"
She shook her head, growing a bit more quiet. "No, my life was not like that at all. Truthfully, most uls do not wander with the ulbands. Those are for the footloose, the ones who prefer lamenting their losses to trying to build a new life for themselves. I actually pity them, for they cling to an old way of life, hoping for something to sweep away a thousand years of history so they can lead again. What they do not realize is that if they were capable of leading they never would have been thrown out of their homelands in the first place, or they would have long since made a new life elsewhere."
I nodded. "Interesting observation. In many ways they are like those who refuse to try the tests to become a Talion."
"Exactly. They were deposed because they could not effectively rule. My father was not caught in that trap—of hoping for something beyond hope. My father is a good man; an artisan in Trisus, the capital of Jania. He crafts the finest musical instruments ever made. He made my lute." She smiled proudly and swept crumbs from her lap.
I stood and untied Wolfs reins from the tree where I'd hobbled him. I swung up into the saddle and patted Wolfs neck. He turned his head enough to stare at me with his left eye and let me know that a friendly pat on the neck was not suitable recompense for so short a stop.
I saw Selia had mounted up, so we headed out. The trail here was wide enough for us to ride abreast, so we did. "I assume if your father made your lute he also taught you to sing?"
She stiffened. "No." Sucked down by sorrow, her voice dropped an octave.
I was watching the trail in front of us intently; as a result I did not react to her statement immediately. I turned to look at her, but her long golden hair shielded her face from me. "I'm sorry for whatever I said. I meant no offense."
She brushed her hair back from her face with the same motion that wiped a tear from her eye and gave me a brave smile. "My father cannot talk. He was not born mute. In fact, as my mother tells it, he had a beautiful singing voice. He grew up in Trisus, apprenticed to an artisan who made musical instruments, but really wanted to be a minstrel. He applied himself very hard to learning how instruments worked, how to make them do whatever he wanted, and he learned how to sing. My mother said he would work from dawn to dusk in the shop, and then sing half the night away in taverns or at celebrations."
I frowned. "Few men are able to do what they love and still afford a family. With a wife and child his life would have been complete enough for most men. What happened?"
Selia stared off into the leafy canopy above us, and the smile got a bit stronger. "He was not married at that point. He was hired to sing at a wedding feast in Trisus, which he saw as a chance to show his skills off to a host of willing patrons. My father went gladly, as most of the nobility in Jania would attend even though the marriage was a strained, arranged affair. The groom was a minor noble and the reluctant bride was the daughter of a merchant who had the money the noble needed to bring his family back into prominence.
"The bride was rather melancholy at the feast. She had not wanted to marry the noble, but her father urged her to do so because he wanted titled grandchildren. The noble asked my father to sing a song to cheer his bride and lift her spirits so she could at least appear to be pleased with the arrangement. My father had a song that never failed him when he wanted to please a woman, so he sang it. He sang his heart out. It's said a dozen ladies of nobility fell for him that night." Selia hunched over in the saddle to avoid a low-hanging tree branch.
"Unfortunately," she continued, "one of them was the noble's new bride. She couldn't take her eyes off my father, and she looked far too happy to suit her new husband. The noble knew everyone felt the forced union a shameful fraud, and what little honor his family had left burned in him for satisfaction.
"So while everyone else congratulated my father on his fine voice, the noble brooded. My father was the center of attention and the feast seemed to be more in his honor than the host's, and the host's wife was more than properly attentive to my father. The noble was not pleased and his rage finally exploded. He said the song offended his wife's honor and he would duel with my father to gain satisfaction."
I sighed. "And the noble stabbed your father in the throat, ending his career."
"No." Selia grinned broadly. "If this was a song that would be the ending, but life seldom works out so simply. Lord Joachim was not as good a fighter as he thought, and my father had some training in swordplay because of a mercenary uncle who thought Father ill prepared as a minstrel to head out traveling. Father fought the noble to first blood and won by inflicting a small cut on the back of the noble's right hand. My father then dropped his guard. The noble advanced and lunged at my father. Father dodged away from the blade, but caught the sword's guard in the throat.
"My father never sang again. I never heard him raise his voice above a whisper, yet even a whisper was painful for him." Selia smiled. "In his eyes, in the fluid grace of his hands when he plays a lute or a dulcimer, I have seen what it must have been like to hear him, but that has not stopped me from wishing I could have listened to his songs or have sung with him."
"I can understand that desire. What happened to the noble?"
"The noble claimed he did not feel the cut on his hand. He paid my father three hundred Imperials, a fine levied by a brash, young Count Rudolf ra Blackwood, the ranking court member in attendance."
A picture of Lothar's uncle flashed before my eyes. "Three hundred Imperials is not much reparation for what happened to your father. He should have had more for that night and his injury."
Selia smiled—a cruel smirk that blossomed into a bright grin. "He did. The woman was my mother. She bore three children, all of them sired by my father, not her husband. I think Lord Joachim knows we are illegitimate, but he says nothing. My mother controls him, and does as she pleases. Lord Joachim is a laughingstock among the nobles of Trisus. Everyone believes he has been dealt justice."
I nodded in agreement with her verdict. I stopped
Wolf. We'd just come up a hill, and the trail entered a small clearing before plunging again into a thicker stand of woods. In the morning the sun would have blinded any rider coming up the hill, but after we took the time for our lunch, only shadows greeted us.
Wolf's ears flicked forward a half second before I saw the motion. I slipped my left foot from the stirrup and kicked Selia off her horse. She grunted, folded forward over my foot, and fell back off the gelding as the crossbow bolt hissed through the air and tugged at her shoulder. She dropped from sight before I could see how badly she had been wounded. In the same motion I twisted from my saddle and fell off Wolf to the right. Leaving my tsincaat in the saddle scabbard, I rose, ran forward, and dove into the brush wall to the right of the trail.
I caught a glimpse of Brede, the Bastard of Ria, before a root caught my ankle and dumped me to the ground. He'd only ever been able to kill something tied up for him and had no illusions about honor or fairness—hence his attack from ambush. I gathered myself into a low crouch, trusting in the fact that my lack of helplessness would put him off killing me immediately.
Selia was very right, he could not be ulRia. For that he had to at least be human.
"Come on, Talion, come to me." Brede filled his voice with forced levity. He had to be trying to reload his crossbow, and his anxiety made that task difficult. Under normal circumstances reloading a crossbow would present no one a problem, but usually the archer is smarter than the bow and he does not have a Talion, a Talion he just tried to murder, in such close proximity.
I pushed on through the scrub and reached an area that was relatively clear of underbrush. The evergreen trees in this stretch of woods had blanketed the ground with pine needles—all orange-brown and dead—that smothered any undergrowth and strangled most sounds. Because the lowest branches were six feet over my head, nothing but tree trunks blocked my vision. Many of the recently trimmed branches littered the ground and gave me a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. Brede, or Morai for him, had chosen well the site for this battle.
Talion Revenant Page 11