by J F Rivkin
“Why do you think Lhejadis doesn’t believe it, then?” Erikasten asked, curious in spite of himself.
“Because if she were convinced that I was that bloodthirsty, she’d not dare to say such things about me! Why, the most powerful contradiction of these accusations is that my enemies are alive to make them. It must be a sore puzzle to them that I haven’t tried to have them silenced.”
“Why haven’t you?” Erikasten found himself enjoying the sense of being in Nyctasia’s confidence. But he remained wary.
“The truth is that it would be against my principles. Not very convincing, is it?”
“Not at all.”
“The truth so seldom is. That’s why I prefer to lie, as a rule. And folk prefer to hear lies, for the most part. But my invention has so far failed me, in this matter. I simply cannot contrive a credible reason to spare Anseldon and those of his faction. Can you?”
Erikasten was silent, suspecting a trap.
“And yet they live, and are at liberty to scheme against me, though I’ve the power to prevent it,” Nyctasia continued. “Quite unaccountable, unless one accepts the unbelievable-that I refuse to resort to bloodshed. Think on that, brother. And if you can devise a more plausible explanation for my behavior, I’d be grateful to hear it. I’ve seldom been at such a loss for lies. Well, let them wonder for the nonce. Let them believe that I’ve some plan in mind so demonically clever that no one can guess at it. Perhaps I’ll think of one.” She laughed at Erikasten’s look of angry uncertainty. “Oh, ’Kasten, nothing is so mysterious and misleading as the truth.”
“Then why are you afraid to tell me what you’ve done with Emeryc’s children? I’m surely not wise enough to believe you! If I’m to accept your word that the others wrong you, prove it-where are Leirven and Deirdras?”
“Why, in Vale of course, ’Kasten. Why else would I wish to send you there? Here, if you must have proof, read this. It’s from Rehal,” Nyctasia took a letter from between the pages of a book and handed it to him with a smile. “Raven and Derry are quite alive, growing fast, and turning brown in the sun.”
With each shipment of wine and books from the Midlands, letters arrived for Nyctasia from the family of vintners. This last had announced, among other news, the betrothal of her brother’s widow, Rehal, to Raphistain ar’n Edonaris, one of the heads of the vintnery.
Erikasten read it quickly and looked up, frowning. “Rehal’s to marry one of these winemakers?”
“I couldn’t be more pleased. It will be an excellent match for both. Rehal was never at her ease at court, but our cousins in Vale aren’t too proud to welcome a farm woman among them. Raphe needs just such a wife, as well, who can be of help to him at the grape-growing and the harvest. And if I know that one, he’ll not mind having a Hlaven to wife. Rehal will seem quite the lady to her new family.”
But Erikasten wasn’t listening. “So you’ve sent Emeryc’s children to be raised by peasants! Is that your game? You’d not have them killed-not you!-you’ll only see to it that they’re made unfit for their position!”
“Silence! You know nothing of my plans, or of these people.” Mastering her anger, Nyctasia forced herself to speak calmly. “The Edonaris of Vale are not peasants. They are country gentry, and nearer kin to us than you suppose. You will know that as soon as you see them-they’re our mirror image… or we theirs. You’ll see much of Emeryc in Raphistain, and not only in the resemblance. He must have seemed to Rehal like her husband’s ghost at first. And his twin sister Frondescine-oh yes, they’re as prone to twins as we-is so very like me that Raphe himself took me for her when we met. We are one family,
’Kasten, or ought to be.”
She paused, choosing her words, and said earnestly, “I have sometimes thought that they, not we, are the true Edonaris. They’ve preserved something that we’ve lost, something of what the Edonaris once were, a quality that made us capable of building this city. I don’t know whether to call it the vital essence of the spirit, or whether to give it simply the name of honesty. I only know that we’ve become capable, instead, of destroying the city-you have seen that for yourself.
And if Rhostshyl is to live, we must learn again to serve the furtherance of life, not the furtherance of our own power.”
“A most moving speech,” said Erikasten, in unwitting imitation of Lord Anseldon.
“But I fail to see how the heirs to the Rhaicimate can serve the city if they’re to be hidden away in the Midlands.”
“Of course they must return when they’re old enough, but not yet, ’Kasten.
That’s one reason I want to have you there, as my emissary, to see that they receive an education fitting for future rulers of Rhostshyl. Naturally you suspect me of other intentions. You suspect everyone, and rightly so. Look at the life you’ve led! You’re still a youth, in years, but already you’ve been through war, lost a brother to your enemies, taken part in schemes and conspiracies-of course you trust no one. How could you? But that’s not the youth I want for Leirven and Deirdras!”
There was a silence between them, then Erikasten, speaking each word deliberately and with unmistakable resolve, said, “’Tasia, if you’re lying to me now, I warn you, you really had better have me killed before I discover the truth. Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you myself. I swear it, on the honor of an Edonaris.”
“I’d expect no less of you, brother. You learned much from the war, I know. You made me proud. But I want the next generation of the Edonaris to learn from peace.” For the first time, she spoke simply, easily, seeming to be neither on the defense nor the attack. “I agree with you, however, that they must not be allowed to forget who they are and what duty they owe the city. It is necessary that Rehal and Raphe understand this. I would send you to them because you understand it.”
“You said that was one reason you wanted me there,” Erikasten reminded her.
“Tell me the rest.”
“It is my hope that when you return, some of our Midland cousins may be allowed to come with you, and perhaps settle among us here. This House needs new blood, and theirs is Edonaris blood. We are not a prolific family, you know. But they are. We need them far more than they need us, but some of our young cousins at Vale long for Rhostshyl above all else, I know. When I was there, they were all afire to join battle with the Teiryn and defend their ancestral home. Their elders forbade it, as well they might, but now… now that we have peace in the city, now that they carry on trade with the coast, and we’re soon to have marriage-ties with them as well, they may be willing to permit their young folk to visit Rhostshyl, perhaps to receive an education here. You’re of an age to befriend them, ’Kasten, and whet their curiosity about the coast and the court.
You’ll seem a hero to them because you’ve fought for your House, and because you’re a lord of Rhostshyl who lives in the palace of the Edonaris.” And it would do ’Kasten good to be admired and made much of, Nyctasia thought, Tiambria’s celebrated marriage had put him too much in the shade. “They’ll need your help to learn court etiquette and deportment,” she continued. “But take care not to condescend to them, or let them feel that you think them ill-bred and unmannered. They’re proud people, and they’ll not stand for that. If you show them proper respect, they’ll be more than glad to learn what you have to teach them. Indeed, they’ll demand to be taught, as I can assure you from my own experience. But you’ll learn from them as well, if you’re wise.”
She spoke as if his journey to Vale were a settled matter, and Erikasten knew that it was. He would have to go there, if only to see for himself whether Emeryc’s children really were safe. If it was all a trick of Nyctasia’s, so be it. He was accomplishing nothing worthwhile at court, and he admitted to himself, though not to Nyctasia, that any change would have been welcome.
“Do you know,” he said suddenly, “I’ve never been farther than a day’s ride away from Rhostshyl?”
Nyctasia smiled, half sadly. “I know very well, And it’s time you saw
something of the world. But, ’Kasten… you’re not being sent into exile. I’ll not deny that I want you away from Anseldon’s influence, but it’s equally true that you’re the one person best suited for this mission. As the uncle of Emeryc’s children, you’ve a right to concern yourself with their welfare, and you’re old enough now to do so. But you’re young enough still to be a companion to those of our kin who I hope will join us-and young enough, I trust, to learn from their way of life.” Nyctasia studied her brother’s countenance for a long moment. “And then, there is one other reason for you to go,” she said, faltering somewhat. “I hadn’t meant to tell you, but I believe I’ll chance it after all.”
Erikasten looked up sharply. “The true reason?”
“What I’ve told you is true, but it isn’t the whole of the truth. You see, there’s one of our Midland cousins, Tepicacia by name, whom I’d particularly like you to bring back to Rhostshyl-as a bride.”
Erikasten was on his feet in an instant, shouting, “Isn’t it enough that you’ve married my sister to a Teiryn? If you think you can make me take a common rustic to wife-and be the laughingstock of the court-”
“You call Emeryc a laughingstock?” Nyctasia asked coldly. “A common rustic was good enough for him to marry, but not for you?”
Erikasten was taken aback. “That-that was altogether different! Rehal had borne him an heir, and… and he chose to make her his wife-everyone knew that-”
“Of course this affair is different. Tepicacia ar’n Edonaris is neither a hired laborer nor a nobleman’s mistress. Her blood is as good as your own, and I’ll not hear her insulted by an insolent puppy like you!”
Furious as he was, Erikasten was too well-bred to turn and go, without Nyctasia’s permission. She was his elder, and a Rhaicime. He bowed and said, “If there was nothing else you wished to tell me, Madame, have I your leave to withdraw?”
“Oh, sit down, ’Kasten, and hold your tongue if you can’t talk sense. I begin to regret that I’ve placed my faith in you. There’s no question of my making you marry. You may be my ward, by law, but Tepicacia isn’t, and she’s far too proud to accept a bridegroom who disdains her family. She may not take to you, for that matter-I daresay you’ll have to woo her if you want her.”
Nyctasia knew very well that ’Cacia was besotted with dreams of Rhostshyl and her noble kin. Erikasten would seem to her the embodiment of that romantic, distant city, but it would be as well to let him think that the girl wouldn’t be so easily won. Perhaps it had been a mistake to reveal her hopes for the betrothal, but Nyctasia thought not, on the whole. He’ll be half in love with her by the time he reaches Vale, she thought, just from wondering about her all the way. And when he found that she bore a certain family likeness to Tiambria, not in her features merely, but even more in her bold spirit and will… well, let him discover that for himself.
“Her kin would approve the match. I think,” she said aloud, smiling, “but they’re not tyrants like me-they’d no more marry ’Cacia against her will than sell her into slavery. And I’ve not suggested a word to them or to her about a betrothal, I assure you. It will rest entirely with you whether or not the matter goes any further. I ask you only to meet the girl and then decide for yourself. That, I’m sure you will agree, is not an unreasonable request, so will you please sit down, ’Kasten?”
This time Erikasten obeyed, but muttered defiantly, “I still think you bewitched Tiambria to obtain her consent to the match. You gave her a love-philtre, or a charm-”
Nyctasia broke into a peal of laughter. “And the Teiryn think I did the same to Jehamias-as if either of the pair weren’t desirable enough to inspire love, without the aid of witchery! I grant you that I would have spellcast them both, if I’d had the means, but fortunately it wasn’t necessary. You see, in my experience, the directions for such potions invariably call for ingredients I couldn’t possibly obtain. In fact, they don’t exist.
“There are charms that arouse lust, yes,” she added, grinning, “but love can no more be mastered by magic than by reason. As ever, all of you credit me with powers far beyond my poor abilities. But after all, you’ve nothing to fear,
’Kasten, even if you believe such nonsense. I can hardly give you a love-philtre while you’re in the Midlands and I’m on the coast.”
“You needn’t mock at me,” Erikasten said, between his teeth.
“True. It’s an odious habit, but hard to break. Please forgive me.” She sounded disgusted with herself, and genuinely contrite.
Erikasten wondered, not for the first time, whether his older sister really was mad. But, as always, he gave up trying to make sense of her. Tiambria had told him, “She’s crazy, to be sure, but that doesn’t mean that she’s wrong.”
“All the Edonaris are crazy,” he said resignedly. “When am I to leave for the Midlands, then?”
“At once. If you delay, you might be stranded in Osela till the spring thaw, if the snows come as early as they did last winter.” Nyctasia did not need to ask what had prompted his remark about the Edonaris. “So look to your preparations.
But mind you don’t run to Anseldon and the rest with word of Rehal’s whereabouts, ’Kasten. If you do, any harm that befalls the children will be on your hands.”
“Why should they harm Emeryc’s children? They were his allies! They want Leirven to take his place-”
“And Deirdras to take mine? Yes, but do they want my undoing even more? Is it beyond belief that they’d make an attempt on the children’s lives in order to fix the blame on me?”
Erikasten hesitated. “Surely you-” he began, and stopped abruptly. “I don’t believe they’d resort to that,” he said finally.
“No? Well, neither do I, in truth. But I’m not so sure of it that I would give them the opportunity. Are you?”
“I won’t tell them,” sighed Erikasten. “But I mean to tell Briar where I’m bound.” He meant to tell a few others as well. If no one knew his destination, it would be a simple matter for Nyctasia to see that he disappeared without a trace. Why should he make it easy for her?
But Nyctasia responded at once, “By all means, tell everyone where you’re bound.
I’ll not have it said that I’ve done away with you as well as Emeryc’s heir, A certain reputation for ruthlessness may be advantageous in my position, but only in moderation. Tell them… tell them that I think to arrange a marriage-alliance with the Edonaris of Vale, but that nothing has been settled, and that you’re being sent to see how the land lies. That will give them something to think about! It’s not your whereabouts I would keep from them, you understand, but that of Emeryc’s family-at least for the time being.”
“What I don’t understand,” Erikasten said, after a silence, “is why you would trust me to know their hiding-place.” He did not so much doubt Nyctasia as feel that he ought to doubt her.
“Ah, I wondered when you’d ask me that. It does seem unlikely that I’d trust you with the truth, I admit, but I can explain. I don’t trust your judgment, brother, but I do trust your honor. I know you’d die to defend Emeryc’s heir, even though he stands between you and the Rhaicimate.”
“He stands between me and you as well, sister. I’d as soon throw away my shield in battle as wish Leirven out of the succession. While he lives, I’m no threat to your ambition.”
Nyctasia covered her face with her hands. “Spoken like an Edonaris,” she said.
7
steifann had much enjoyed Corson’s account of her vengeance on ’Malkin. He’d heard more than he liked about ’Malkin over the years, and he’d been none too pleased, at first, to learn that Corson had encountered him again. But now he felt quite satisfied that this scholar would want nothing more to do with Corson, after the nasty game she’d played him. Steifann could almost feel sorry for the fellow. “Well, I’d not turn my back on that one, if I were you,” he advised Corson. “If you used me that way, I wouldn’t rest till I’d made you regret it.”
“He brought it o
n himself! I told him that Nyc was the Rhaicime. He should have believed me.”
“You know very well no one would take Nyc for a Rhaicime-not unless she took the trouble to play the part. I thought she was some feckless vagabond student when I first laid eyes on her. I all but swatted her myself.”
Corson shook her head. “The first time you saw her, you thought she was Destiver's cabin boy,” she reminded him.
Destiver laughed. “I thought she was an imperial spy, or an assassin. I threatened to keelhaul her if she didn’t keep herself out of my way! If I’d known she was a runaway Rhaicime, I could have held her for ransom.”
“And you’d have been hung for a smuggler,” Annin said tartly, rapping her on the head with a large ladle. “You’re lucky that our Lady Nyc doesn’t hold a grudge.”
When the Windhover was in port, Destiver spent far too much time at the Hare, in Corson’s opinion. True, she’d spent the night with Annin, not with Steifann, but what happened when Corson wasn’t in town, and Destiver was? “Nyc has a forgiving nature,” said Corson. “But I don’t.”
“Neither do I,” Destiver put in. She kissed Annin’s hand and went off to the docks.
“She says that mercy is the mark of true nobility,” Corson continued, ignoring Destiver. “But I’m not of noble blood. Now that I’m quits with ’Malkin, I’ll forgive the bastard. Besides, Nyc made me promise not to do that sort of thing at court again. That’s all right, though-I don’t know anyone else like ’Malkin.”
“Good,” said Steifann, and added wryly, “Very forgiving our noble Nyc is-until she starts singing her little songs about you.”
Trask snickered-“Ho, you like that song. You’ve been singing it yourself, I heard you.”
“You hear too much that doesn’t concern you. Go open the taproom, we’ll have folk here soon enough. And fetch in that wheel of cheese from the cart! If I have to tell you again-”
“It’s too heavy for me,” Trask complained. “Now Corson’s back, let her do it. Or has milady grown too grand for that?”