Talion Revenant

by Michael A. Stackpole

  They broke the kiss and murmured to each other. She rocked back onto her haunches and Patrick smiled at me. "Lord Nolan ra Yotan, this is my wife, Countess Jamila. Her father was my grandfather's Ambassador to Sterlos."

  I bowed my head to her. "The pleasure is mine, my lady."

  Her radiant smile accentuated the beauty in her delicately sculpted face. Mischief filled her dark, heavy-lidded eyes. "A pleasure we share, then." She leaned behind Patrick and ran a hand through his hair. "If you will permit me, my lord, what happened to your shoulder?"

  Patrick spun, caught her wrist, and kissed it. "Leave him alone, woman, he is the man who saved me from the Dhesiri."

  She smiled down at her husband. "I can forgive him that, my darling, and I am sure Lord Nolan does not mind so innocent a question." Her eyes flicked up to me and assured me I did not think the question an intrusion.

  I smiled graciously. "Not at all, my lady. It was an accident in the Darkesh. I was wounded back in the days before I had access to a court wizard to heal my wounds."

  Countess Jamila smiled slowly and lifted her husband's hand to her lips. She kissed it, then looked over at me again. "I thought very few bandits ever escaped the Lords of the Darkesh."

  I laughed, which she took as a sign of nervousness, and bowed my head to her. "That is my understanding as well, and even the lucky ones don't escape unmarked."

  She meant to continue but Patrick raised his hand to her lips and gently stifled her next question. "That is enough, dearest. Lord Nolan also saved the King. The man is a hero, not a criminal for you to interrogate."

  The Countess fixed him with a stare that lowered the temperature of our pool by several degrees. She smiled sweetly at me. "We will pursue this later, my lord, as I am sure it is an interesting tale." She rose, slipped back behind the curtain, and splashed into the other hot pool.

  Patrick swam over to me and whispered in low, conspiratorial tones. "Be careful, Lord Nolan. I love her dearly, but what you say to her will make the rounds through court quickly."

  I nodded and noticed two servants entering the room with sheets similar to the ones the Countess had been wearing.

  Patrick spoke to one of them, then turned to me. "They have put your things in the Wolf Tower suite. That puts you on the same level with my suite and Duke Vidor's suite. Above us is the Princess and above her is the King."

  The Count directed a chubby, towheaded youth toward the alcove I'd used earlier. "Adric will take you to your room. You should not see anyone on the way, so you can wear the sheet as opposed to climbing back into your wet clothing. I will call upon you before this evening's reception and see how you are getting along."

  I climbed steaming from the pool and wiped myself off before wrapping the sheet around myself. "Tell your wife I much enjoyed meeting her."

  He nodded slowly and looked back over at the curtain. "I best apologize or I will never make it to the reception at all. If I survive I will see you later."

  Adric carried my sodden clothing and led the way up to my suite. Patrick's prediction was correct and I saw no one on the stairs. We covered the flight up to the main floor, then continued up one more flight and exited into a small, circular central lobby that had three doors off it. Adric preceded me through the southern doorway.

  The suite took up one-third of the level it was on and was divided into a large antechamber nearest the door, and two smaller adjoining rooms on the outer circumference of the tower. Smoothly carved stone blocks formed all the walls except for those in the back room, which were carved from the mountainside the castel abutted on the south.

  The antechamber was appointed as a library or study. The walls were built up with shelves, and volumes of various sizes, bindings, and ranges of antiquity filled them. The library had four large chairs and a sideboard stocked with a wine pitcher and four silver goblets.

  Immediately to the right of the doorway stood a huge fireplace built into the tower's interior wall. Carved in the shape of a salamander's head, it would have no trouble warming the whole suite when a fire burned in it. Above it perched a carving of Hamisian arms. It featured heraldic animals and arcane symbols much older than Castel Seir itself, and while not actually part of salamander, it complemented the stone beast and added a grand air to the chamber.

  Beyond the library, through the most eastern of two lancet arch doorways, lay my bedroom. The bed was colossal, though after three nights on a cot anything would look big, and had carved bedposts at each corner supporting a canopy embroidered with choice scenes from Hamisian history. Another coat of arms—this one more recent than that hanging over the fireplace—decorated the headboard, and the quilt had sacred symbols sewn into it to insure pleasant dreams. Situated in the south wall, the one carved from the mountain behind the Castel, stood a narrow washing alcove with a hand-carved basin, a polished silver mirror, a water pitcher, and two small towels.

  The third and final room in the suite could have been a second bedroom, but served me as a wardrobe. Adric busily laid out the clothing I'd need for the reception later that evening, then sat down to polish a pair of dress boots he'd pulled from my trunk. He looked up expectantly when I entered the room, but I just smiled and waved him back to what he was doing.

  I smiled because I felt as much at home here as I did anywhere in the Shattered Empire. I knew of Castel Seir from the stories I had heard as a child, which gave the place a sense of antiquity. While Castel Seir was not as old as Talianna, it had survived the Shattering and shared with Talianna a long arc of history. Its existence became a manifestation of continuity and permanency which was very important to me. I often felt alone in the world because the people I loved most, like my family, Lothar, and Marana, were taken away from me, but the constancy of Talianna or Castel Seir gave me something to hold on to, something that felt as if it would never go away.

  I banished the bad memories and concentrated upon the tricky task of shaving. Adric warmed water for me in the fireplace, then busied himself whisking soiled linens out of sight. I shaved carefully and was quite pleased with the length and condition of my moustache and goatee even though they meant I had to pay more attention when wielding a razor. For the barest of moments I considered keeping them after this mission was over, then rejected the idea in favor of just being able to simply scrape a razor over my face without worrying about where to stop or how to trim.

  Adric laid out a blue velvet and silver silk doublet and a deep blue silk tunic. The combination, in addition to being appropriate to the color scheme for the evening, was quite handsome. Alternate stripes of color ran from shoulder to wrist on sleeves loose enough for me to strap a dagger to my left forearm without anyone being the wiser. Allen's seamster had even included a hidden slit in the seam to allow me swift access to the blade

  Formality also required me to wear hose, which I really do not like. The stockings make my legs very hot and garters give me more trouble than Morai ever dreamed of. I detest the baggy upper hose—mainly because they are such a contrast in feel to my normal clothing—and the silly little silk slippers needed to show hose off to their best advantage annoy me with their flimsiness.

  Adric offered to help me dress but I kindly refused, and asked him to find me some fruit or cheese to take the edge off my hunger before the reception. I dressed myself, strapped the dagger to my forearm before Adric returned, and almost balked at wearing hose. The hose, though, yielded to me and, properly sized, decided to stay in place. They were still warm but they made a nice addition to my suit.

  As was allowed by custom I strapped my ryqril around my waist. By law a noble may wear a dagger anywhere as a symbol of his status, but only the King's Champion can wear his sword at this sort of social function. On occasion nobles draw their daggers to defend their honor when insulted, but usually the blades are only used for meals. The dagger I had strapped to my arm was strictly outlawed, but I wanted it there in case someone took it for granted I was armed as poorly as the other nobles.

  Ad
ric returned, followed closely by Count Patrick. Adric set a tray with an apple, already cut into cored circles, and a small wedge of the King's favorite cheese on the library table. He bowed and backed from the room. I waved Patrick to the food and crossed to the sideboard to pour wine for us.

  He was already dressed for the reception. His clothes were more silver than mine and worked in a patched pattern I suspected he chose because it resembled a harlequin's costume. Still it suited him well and really forced him to look more like a noble than he probably desired. A silver circlet restrained his red hair.

  The Count cut himself a small piece of cheese and chewed it thoughtfully. "I have to apologize for the trouble I may have caused." A sly smile crept onto his face.

  I walked over and handed him a cup of the wine. "What are you talking about?"

  He drank before he replied. "You will recall I said my wife is a court gossip?"

  "Yes." I bit into an apple circle. The fruit was sweet, but the feeling of impending doom settling about me made it taste like dust.

  Patrick frowned for a moment. "Damn, I do not know why I feel guilty over this. It is Duke Vidor's fault, after all."

  I shook my head. "I am missing something here. What is going on?"

  The Count sighed and seated himself. "My wife spoke with my mother, who spoke to the Queen and it was decided that you would escort the Princess to the reception. Vidor, because his leg is still numbed from the wizard's spell, cannot dance, so he cannot accompany the Princess." A wide grin broke onto his face as I aspirated the apple and coughed it free.

  I recovered and glowered at him. "I do not think that would be a good idea."

  He just shook his head and tried to compose himself for my sake. "There are two things you must understand in Castel Seir. First, your selection is actually in keeping with tradition. The hunter who bags the animal is always honored at the reception."

  "No, no," I laughed gently. "You shot it. You, Earl Cadmar, and the King got it. One of you should have the honor."

  "Nonsense, Nolan, you lured it out into the open. You deserve the honor." Patrick leaned back and smiled at me over the rim of his cup. "Besides, the King cannot escort her, I will be with my wife, and Keane's wife will kill him if he abandons her to be so honored."

  I raised my left eyebrow and stared down at him. "Do you often honor the bait at a reception?"

  Count Patrick laughed. "A fair point, but not one worthy of discussion in light of the second thing you must remember in Castel Seir. You see, my friend, the Queen and Grand Duchess have decided you will escort the Princess. There is no appeal from that sentence." He sipped more wine. "Even the gods have reconsidered actions when those two conspire to oppose them."

  I toyed unconsciously with my goatee, then settled my goblet on the tray. "That being the case, I would be more than honored to escort Her Highness, Princess Zaria ra Hamis, this evening."

  The Count set his goblet down, rose, and patted me on the shoulder. "That is exactly what I told them you would say."

  * * *

  I had no idea of what to expect when Count Patrick led me into the throne room. The arched roof rose up three stories and a series of stained-glass windows commemorating the more famous Kings of Hamis decorated the tall walls. Laid out in a diamond pattern of polished marble squares, an alternating series of black and white floorstones stretched out, from wall to wall, beneath my feet. The decorations and stonework dated from before the Shattering, but still provided the room with an atmosphere of power and legitimacy,

  At the far end of the hall I recognized the King seated upon a canopied wooden throne and the Grand Duke standing below him to the left. Patrick's mother, Grand Duchess Xanthe, had to be the strong, solid, white-haired woman straightening a bow on his father's jacket.

  Walking toward the throne I studied the slender, striking woman seated next to King Tirrell. She had to be his Queen Elysia. The simple coronet she wore flashed highlights into her black hair, yet was appropriate to her demeanor because it suggested rank and power without fanfare or fuss. If the old saying about a husband telling how his wife will look in later years by looking at her mother is true, the man who married the Princess would indeed by fortunate.

  A dozen other people filled the room. I recognized Countess Jamila and a dressed-up Halsted, but the others were children and utterly unfamiliar. Patrick described all of them as the Princess's or his younger siblings, with one proud exception. He indicated a small boy attired in a suit modeled on his own. "That is my son Phillip. He is three years old."

  Phillip and most of the other children looked as thrilled as I felt about being fashionably attired. Patrick introduced me to all of them, and I quickly abandoned all hope of remembering their names because each had been named after a dozen past heroes and had three or four tides already.

  Count Patrick left off his eloquent torture when I'd shaken the last hand in line and then led me to his parents and the King.

  "Queen Cousin, and Mother, this is Lord Nolan ra Yotan ra Hamis."

  I bowed deeply.

  The Grand Duchess watched me like a hawk and appraised me instantly as her husband had. I must have been acceptable, because she bowed her head toward me. "I thank you for my son, and for my Lord King."

  I saw the Queen exchange a quick glance with the Grand Duchess; then the Queen extended a hand toward me. I took it and lightly kissed it. I straightened up and she smiled at me. "We wish to thank you for saving our husband, cousin, and Duke Vidor. Our husband tells us you refuse to name a reward for your action, so we will not ask you to name one."

  She looked to Halsted and at her invitation he walked to me with a small wooden box in hand. I took it from him and he withdrew. The Queen nodded at me and in a strong, gentle voice said, "Within you will find something I trust will reward you."

  I opened the box and my jaw dropped. Nestled amid folds of red velvet I found a gold ring. Despite the slight signs of wear on the edges, the original designs and crest on it stood out sharp and clear in the bright metal. Then I noticed the crest still had an Imperial Hawk perched above it, and I instantly knew the ring dated from before the Shattering because that symbol had been struck from all arms after the last Emperor died.

  I stared up at the Queen in disbelief. "I cannot accept this. It is too old. It was made before the Empire collapsed. It must be priceless."

  "As is our husband to us." The Queen anticipated my argument and crushed it instantly. "The ring, if the court historian is to be believed, was worn by Prince Uriah back before the Shattering. It is related that he ventured into a Dhesiri warren to save a peasant who had been taken, and this ring was made to honor that deed. We believe he would applaud this reward for your bravery."

  I bowed my head and slid the ring onto the fourth finger of my right hand. It fit perfectly and, despite its weight, felt comfortable on my hand. "I thank you, and I am deeply honored by your gift."

  King Tirrell, who sat silent through all this, turned to his wife. "Are you finished tormenting my guest?"

  The Queen nodded. King Tirrell turned to me. "Lord Nolan, I would like you to meet Her Highness, Princess Zaria ra Hamis."

  I turned to my right to watch Grand Duke Fordel lead Princess Zaria into the throne room from a side chamber. My breath caught in my throat and I forced myself to bow so I would not stare at her. She was, quite simply put, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life.

  The Princess effortlessly matched the Grand Duke's martial pace, though she stood three inches shorter than him. Her long black hair washed in waves over her shoulders and all but hid a beaten silver coronet set with a diamond in the center. Her eyes were dark brown and the Princess emphasized their size and beauty with the judicious application of cosmetics. Her nose was straight and proportionate, her cheekbones were high, and lip rouge highlighted her full, sensuous mouth.

  Silver and white except for a few deep blue ribbons and bows, her gown tapered down from puffy shoulders to tightly enfold her narrow wais
t, then blossomed out like a flower with satin petals to reach the floor. Lace trimmed it at the wrists and rose up from bosom to her throat, but could not conceal her charms. Though she would not officially be acknowledged a woman until crowned, her gown served notice that the ceremony was merely a formality.

  The Grand Duke slipped her hand from his arm and she held it out to me. I kissed it and looked up. She smiled at me, then at her parents. "I am sorry you were put to such trouble, Lord Nolan, on such short notice."

  I smiled slowly and used the time purchased thereby to calm my racing heart. "Escorting you is an honor, Your Highness, and no trouble at all."

  "Tell me that when the evening is over." She stepped back and turned to face Halsted. The servant cleared his throat and bowed his head to the King before he spoke. "As protocol demands the Grand Duke and Duchess will lead the party in, followed by the Count and his wife. Then the King and Queen will enter the hall. Princess Zaria will follow behind them alone, and you, Lord Nolan, will walk behind her. Once she has been presented to the assembly the King will look at you and you will lead her to where the Grand Duke and Duchess stand."

  When adults nodded their understanding, Halsted turned his attention to the children. "Line up, tallest to smallest. You will march behind Lord Nolan. After he has led the Princess off each of you will be introduced. No clowning or laughing. If there is any, all of you will be sent to your quarters before the bard Duke Vidor has found will perform." Halsted's threat washed over the children like a cold bucket of water. They sobered, looked serious, and sprang into line with no trouble.

  Halsted led all of us back behind the throne to a tall bronze door. I saw no handle or hinges amid the symbols and figures worked into the door, but I was only given a half second to wonder how it opened before Halsted gently knocked on it. The door shuddered and then, slowly, slid upward into the wall itself. It rose in pace with the Hamisian anthem and, as if the sun were rising to banish the night, the light from the ballroom washed over the royal procession.