The Land of Night

by Kirby Crow

  Jochi arched an eyebrow. “Not by open rebellion or regicide, but by teaching and guidance and example.”

  Jochi was right, it was complicated. And Jochi was tricky. “You’re turning us back to politics.”

  “And I thought I was being subtle.”

  Scarlet liked Jochi, he liked him a great deal. Jochi was one of the few people who accepted him for his own self, not for who he was to Liall or what hold they thought they could get over the prince by pandering to his lover. The next few days, however, Scarlet liked being with Jochi much less, for Jochi had him moving into the smaller rooms that he called salons, rather than the larger gathering chambers.

  Scarlet could have sworn that they walked a length equal to the distance between Lysia and Patra winding in and out of the interconnecting rooms that honeycombed the palace. It was a lot less interesting than journeying to Patra, too. Not that he did not enjoy the luxurious surroundings, but with no sun and only torches and lamplight, even the most lovely surroundings can become melancholy. Now add bored and malicious court-folk –although not all were, he admitted– and he finally rebelled a few hours after the midday meal as Jochi led him to yet another one of the glittering cells.

  “I don’t want to go in there.”

  Jochi stood poised in the doorway. “No?”

  “No.” Scarlet frowned at the sound of laughter. “I’m tired of meeting people I can’t talk to, or who pretend not to understand me, only to move on to the next batch and then the next and the next. I’m not a gods-rotted sideshow. No more today. I want to go outside.”

  “Ser Keriss, it is very—”

  “Cold. I know. I can see that through the windows. Why can’t we take one of those things, what are they called... sleighs? Out for a ride.”

  “That would be very unwise, ser.”

  “Why?”

  Scarlet could see Jochi struggling silently with an excuse to convince him, but a page suddenly scurried out of the blue shadows further down the corridor and approached Jochi with a folded piece of parchment. Jochi took it, frowning a little, and read. The page, a boy of perhaps twelve or so, stared at Scarlet, which was a pleasant change from sidelong glances and whispers. Scarlet stuck his tongue out at the boy when Jochi was not looking, and enjoyed the pop-eyed response.

  “I must attend the queen,” Jochi said and folded the parchment again. “Come, I will escort you back to your apartments.”

  “I can find my way back,” Scarlet said, and he was sure that he could by now, after days of wandering all over it.

  “No, that will not do. I am your escort.”

  “I’m not a baby,” he insisted, “And you’re wanted somewhere else.”

  “As it was she who assigned me to escort you. The queen will understand,” Jochi said patiently.

  “It’s quite all right, Jochi, he can stay here with Alexyin and me until you return.”

  The youthful voice came from behind the wall and they both turned in surprise. The page hurried off.

  A panel of the wall slid away, revealing a small, dim chamber like the salons, lit only by a few blue lamps turned down low. Seated on a low chair faced away from them was the striking young man with the plain clothes who sat at the queen’s right at dinner, the Prince Cestimir. Beside him was a very large, older man with a square face and a hooked nose who wore his long silver hair in a simple braid that hung to the middle of his back. He was clad in a heavy wool virca that was plain by Rshani standards, and carried a single long-knife on his hip. Scarlet assumed the man was a bodyguard, by the size of his frame and the way he sized Scarlet up. There was a book opened on his knee.

  Jochi murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, at least in tone. He bowed and Scarlet followed suit uncertainly.

  “Prince Cestimir,” Jochi murmured, then, “Ap kyning, may I present to you—”

  The boy beckoned without looking around. “Yes, yes. I know. Who does not? Keriss kir Nazheradei. Come in.”

  Jochi looked at Scarlet, then shrugged. “I see no harm in it,” he said. “And if you will wait here until I return, ser, I am content.”

  Well, he had survived the queen, and while Cestimir might be Crown Prince, he was still only a boy and Liall’s younger brother. Given his mistakes the first time he had appeared in the great hall, Scarlet could understand Jochi’s concern. He nodded and ducked into the room. The panel closed and Scarlet stood with his back to it as Jochi’s footsteps grew more distant.

  “Your Majesty,” Scarlet said. He was not nervous of this boy as he had been of the queen. Cestimir was facing away from him, kneeling backward on a chair with both elbows perched on the headrest, peering intently through some kind of transparent disc set into the wall.

  “Shhhh,” Cestimir whispered, and looked sidelong at Scarlet. “Come sit with me.” He patted the chair next to him. “Did I hear you say you liked sleighs? I must take you out on mine soon.”

  The older man seated in the corner closed his book. His thick white eyebrows drew together as he frowned at the prince.

  “Ap kyning, I feel certain this is not what your mother would consider decorous behavior.”

  Cestimir flapped a hand at him. “Perhaps not, but it is instructive. Come, Keriss, sit with me.”

  Scarlet gnawed on his lower lip and dragged a chair close to the prince, but not facing the wall.

  “No, no, you must see,” Cestimir insisted, motioning.

  Scarlet turned in the chair and peered through the disc, which seemed to be made of gray glass, murky but transparent enough so that he could perceive that it looked out into another room. Not a salon, but the large domed chamber with the iron screens that he had met Tesk in. The chamber was brightly lit, and the hidden alcove was dim, so Scarlet had no need to use his Hilurin sight to peer into the room. He could see very well. Lady Shikhoza sat in one corner under a flickering lamp, stitching on a piece of cloth while several men attended her. She seemed to be ignoring them.

  “Now watch,” Cestimir murmured. “You see the girl in the silver brocade tarica?”

  He pointed and Scarlet looked before nodding. She was very beautiful, perhaps his age or younger, and was presently on the arm of a bearded man who had hair the same ruddy-gold shade as hers.

  “Lady Ressilka. She’s new to court, but very well-trained by her father, the Baron Ressanda. That’s him holding her arm, by the way. She just became one of my mother’s attendants. Now... watch Lady Shikhoza as Lady Ressilka draws near.”

  Interested, Scarlet rested his chin on the back of the chair. As Lady Ressilka was escorted by her father to a chair, the center of the room seemed to shift and even Lady Shikhoza’s admirers turned toward the newcomer like flowers toward the sun. Scarlet could see even from this distance that Shikhoza’s mouth grew pinched and tight.

  “She’s a bitter woman,” Cestimir said, “And yet, I could feel pity for her if she were not such a poisonous bitch.” His mouth curved in amusement. “Call a worm a worm and don’t insult the snake, as Alexyin always says. What do you think, Keriss?”

  Cestimir looked much younger when he smiled, which Scarlet sensed was not often. Scarlet hesitated, not knowing if he should say anything at all.

  “I am sure,” Alexyin broke in quietly, “that I never intended that reference to recommend vulgarity.”

  “My apologies,” Cestimir said, but he didn’t look sorry. A voice came from very near and Cestimir frowned, listening. After a moment, his mouth thinned out and he shook his head. “Gossips,” he muttered.

  “Can they hear us?”

  “No.” Cestimir shifted sideways in the chair to look at Scarlet. “It’s the way the ceilings were built; the sound travels into this alcove, but not out, at least not if we’re speaking normally, like this.”

  “You looked bothered,” Scarlet said bluntly.

  Cestimir lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “The main topic of conversation for days and days has been my elder brother. I’ve heard many things an
d my nerves are a bit sensitive.”

  He could imagine. “Do they... do they speak ill of him?” If so, Scarlet was grateful not to speak Sinha.

  “Some do. It frustrates me because I know so little of him. I cannot even argue with them about it, because I don’t know if they’re telling the truth or not.”

  “He has been long away?”

  “He left Rshan before I was born. My mother has told me of him, of course.”

  “But you know him now.”

  “No,” Cestimir said wryly. “He has been too occupied on my behalf to meet with me just yet.”

  “He has been busy,” Scarlet said helpfully.

  Cestimir looked amused again. “And you hate it and wish you had him all to yourself.”

  This charming guess was not entirely true, but it made Scarlet uncomfortable, telling as it did that Cestimir was interested in his relationship with Liall. Scarlet looked back into the dome chamber to see that Shikhoza’s courtiers had begun to move toward the younger woman and gestured instead of answering him.

  Cestimir looked once, but only quickly before turning his attention back to Scarlet. “Is it very different here from your home?”

  Scarlet heard only curiosity in Cestimir’s voice, and no mockery. “Very,” he said. “It’s very cold here and there is no sun.”

  Cestimir leaned his cheek on his palm and his eyes –pale blue and sparkling with intelligence– narrowed. “And did you have many lovers there?”

  Scarlet was taken by surprise. Not so much by the question, but the questioner. “You’re a little young for that kind of talk, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, we are an ancient society,” Cestimir waved it away with a motion like airing a tendril of smoke from his face. “And such decadent cultures are both worshipers and despoilers of youth. I have seen much that I am too young to see, and done much that I am too young to do.”

  He should have guessed that a boy so burdened with duty and the hopes of others would long for a childhood he never had. Scarlet felt a pang of sympathy for him. “I’m sorry,” he said without thinking.

  “Do not be. But we were speaking of you. Have you slept with many men? What did you do before you found... occupation... in my brother’s bed?”

  “Cestimir,” Alexyin called out in a tone like a whip, then spoke several low words in Sinha. Cestimir bowed his head to Scarlet, looking not the least bit chastened.

  “Alexyin reminds me that you are my brother’s t’aishka and it is unforgivable to offer you insult. This conversation is improper.”

  “No harm done,” Scarlet said, though he was stung by Cestimir’s words. “I’m not going to roll up and die from it.” After the crew of the Ostre Sul, even insults felt like polite conversation.

  “You are kind.”

  “No, I mean it.” Scarlet met the young prince’s gaze straightly. “You don’t know me. I haven’t done anything yet to earn your respect, so you give me none.”

  Cestimir stared at him for a long moment, then dropped his gaze and bowed his head in real apology. “But manners should prevail even if respect is absent,” he said. “Your pardon, ser.”

  Scarlet shrugged. Strangers can assume much from looks alone. Liall had taught him that lesson in depth. “No harm done,” he repeated.

  Cestimir hesitated, and then scrutinized Scarlet closely, as if he was rearranging Scarlet’s shape in his head. “They told me you would not be what I expected.”

  “They?”

  Cestimir smiled a little, the cold smile of youth forced too quickly to wisdom. “The ones who watch and plot. Yes, they.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the concealing tapestry. “My beloved people.”

  Scarlet grinned. “Funny. You don’t sound in love.”

  “We know each other too well for romance, though there is enough at stake for elaborate copulation. And you; are all Hilurin so forthright?”

  “Only when we’re sober, which is often.”

  “Then I will assume you have no need of drink to goad your partners to the sheets. Congratulations.”

  That made Scarlet laugh, and Cestimir joined him, like two veteran soldiers on a battlefield, counting their cuts. Alexyin went back to his book and the two young men resumed spying on Cestimir’s subjects.

  “Ressanda,” Cestimir said, again pointing out the large man with the reddish beard. “Who may one day be my father-in-law. He is very wise and brave, and so he has many enemies. There is to be a bear hunt soon, and Ressanda will be in the lead team. Perhaps the bear will do him a favor and rid him of a few of them,” he added mischievously, and then his face clouded. “I should not say such things. It’s very unlucky.”

  “The bear hunt,” Scarlet said with foreboding, remembering what Jochi had told him about Liall’s father. Men were often killed on these hunts.

  “Oh, were you told? It’s a grand affair, horses and hounds and banners and many sharp spears, and we must all wear silver in our hair: another old tradition from the Shining Ones. Oh, look, there’s Tesk, who asked to paint a picture of you. He’s such a gallant.”

  They watched a while longer, and after a bit, Scarlet remarked to Cestimir again about the lack of sun.

  “We are only sunless in the winter,” Cestimir assured. “Does it get very hot in Byzantur in the summer?”

  “Not where I live. Lysia is in the mountains. It gets warm, yes, but not like it does in Morturii, and not as cold in the winter.”

  His eyes widened. “You’ve been to Morturii?”

  “Many times. The first time when I was fourteen, with a merchant caravan.”

  “That is my age! You must tell me,” Cestimir demanded, his face lighting up. “I envy you and my brother, to have seen such lands.”

  “I thought your folk didn’t like foreigners?”

  “Oh, we do not.” Cestimir frowned, and a little of the boy in him showed through. “It’s tradition for us to stay here walled in ice and never let anyone in, ever. I hate that. It was not always this way, you know. We used to travel everywhere and foreigners were allowed to walk freely in Rshan. Small wonder our court is a hotbed of plots and whispers, since we must cannibalize ourselves for fresh entertainment. Now... tell me of Morturii,” he commanded in a regal tone.

  “I was just a boy,” Scarlet said, smiling a little. “A caravan came through from Omara bound for Morturii. They needed a wainwright when they arrived, and my father worked that trade, so I got to know Rannon, the karwaneer, and he asked me if I’d like to see Morturii and off I went,” he finished, like it was as easy as that. He did not mention how hard it had been to convince Scaja and Linhona to let him go. “My people said I had the Wilding, so they never tried to keep me penned in. We usually stay close to home, otherwise.”

  “Wainwright?” It was evident that Cestimir’s education had not included that term.

  “One who builds or repairs wagons,” Alexyin said without looking up from his book.

  Cestimir gave him an apologetic look. “My Bizye isn’t as fluent as my brother’s, I’m certain, but at any rate there are few wagons in use in the winter here. Sleighs are the more logical choice of travel, for both goods and people.”

  “Your brother has had longer to practice Bizye.” Scarlet said, hoping Cestimir wouldn’t ask him much about Liall’s travels in the Southern Continent, for he knew little of them. He was coming to realize that there was a great deal about Liall he did not know.

  “That is very kind.”

  “Just truthful, though I honestly don’t know how much longer.” I don’t even know how old Liall is, Scarlet realized, and was a little annoyed. I should know the age of my lover, at least.

  “We are all close-mouthed, we Rshan,” Cestimir said with great seriousness. “Now, I’ve interrupted your tale. Please continue.”

  Scarlet talked until his throat was dry. Cestimir interrupted only to ask questions or details, and Alexyin was silent but attentive, absorbing every word.

  “You must tell my lady mother some of this,”
Cestimir said when Scarlet was talked out. “We need more contact with other lands, I truly believe this. And trade. We do not do poorly the way things are, but there is no growth, no change, I think Rshan will grow more and more stagnant without that infusion.”

  These were matters of state, matters for kings, not for pedlars, but it seemed good sense and Scarlet said so very cautiously. He was also curious. “Li... Nazheradei says that you do no trade with Byzantur.”

  “This is true.”

  “Why?”

  Cestimir frowned. “I’m not sure, exactly. It’s an old prohibition from the elder times. We once traded with many nations, and foreigners were allowed to walk freely among us. There’s a legend that the Hilurin used to live in Rshan na Ostre during the time of the Shining Ones. They were slaves.”