The Land of Night

by Kirby Crow

  “Stop, Jochi,” Scarlet said in a weak voice. “I’m alive.”

  “It is my fault,” Jochi said for the tenth time. He looked to Liall. “I said you could depend on me, my prince, but he nearly died, and it was my fault.”

  “It was the bear’s fault,” Liall growled. “Cease this, I command you.”

  Jochi choked back a sound and nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve.

  Scarlet had never seen a man so upset over a thing he couldn’t prevent and had no hand in at all. The bear went after Liall, so he went after the bear. It was plain as water to him, and why Jochi could not comprehend that only Deva determined the outcome of such a thing was a puzzle he couldn’t sort out. Scarlet wanted to reassure Jochi, but Liall was still staring at him. Liall’s jaw was clenched so tight there was a white line under his lower lip.

  “Are you all right?” Scarlet asked again. Liall unclenched his fists to touch Scarlet’s face, as if he still could not believe Scarlet was alive. Scarlet was a bit surprised on that count himself. The snow bear had been the most enormous animal he had ever seen.

  “Yes, t’aishka,” Liall said. He moved Scarlet’s outer furs aside, inspecting his lover for injury yet again. “Are you sure none of that blood is yours? How is your head?” Liall worriedly examined the lump on Scarlet’s temple.

  Cestimir, who had abandoned his horse to ride in the sleigh beside Liall, snorted. “How many times must you both ask the same question? No, brother, the blood is not his, and yes, ser Keriss, Nazheradei has only a bruised leg.”

  Liall scowled at the prince. Cestimir smiled drolly. “And I’ve become fond of the pair of you, so I’m glad on both accounts.”

  Scarlet gave Cestimir a warm look. He leaned his head on Liall’s shoulder and rode the rest of the way back to the palace with his eyes closed. There was a slight pounding in his ears and the sway of the carriage seemed to make him feel queasy, almost as if they were at sea again, but he swallowed hard against the sickness and took deep breaths, terrified of shaming himself.

  The courtyard was flooded with watchers. It was as if the palace had been upended and every one of its people dumped into the courtyard to witness their arrival. He was surrounded as Jochi helped him out of the sleigh, and from everywhere, from every direction, hands reached out to touch the blood on his clothes and face.

  “Sange hun’esk hinir,” some whispered. He asked Liall what it meant, more than a little shook by the awed looks on their proud faces, and the way they touched their bloodied fingers to their lips.

  Jochi did not budge from his side, and Alexyin was beside Cestimir, with Liall limping between them. “Blooded by the bear,” Liall supplied. “It is a rare thing. Usually, when a man is near enough to a snow bear to get its blood on him, he does not come back alive.”

  Cestimir touched his brother’s arm. “Nazheradei, I think ser Keriss has broken the curse.”

  Liall shot Cestimir a forbidding look and led Scarlet quickly away into the great hall. When they arrived, Scarlet gladly let servants strip away the bloody furs, which were taken away reverently. Where, he did not know. He even put up with a subdued Jochi silently taking a damp cloth to his face before pronouncing Scarlet presentable enough to stand before the queen.

  They took seats at the queen’s table. Spiced wine was served, hot from warming and fortified with stronger liquor. Beside Liall, Alexyin and Jochi spoke quietly and urgently to the queen, and she listened, her face growing steadily colder. She raised her head to pin Scarlet with her eyes, and Scarlet was chilled by her gaze, yet he sensed her coldness was not directed at him.

  The queen raised her cup and the great hall went silent. “Drink in honor of Keriss kir Nazheradei, who has not only won victory over the snow bear, but has saved my beloved eldest son.”

  “Again,” Liall murmured, loud enough for many to hear. He raised his cup.

  Further down the high table, Scarlet saw a stern man with nearly-colorless eyes rise from his seat and raise his cup with Liall, his mouth twisted in a sneer.

  Liall stiffened.

  “Yes,” the man agreed, “Let us all drink to the royal trinket.”

  “Vladei,” Liall growled in warning.

  So, this was the brother whom Liall disliked so much. There was little resemblance between them. Step-brother and cousin, Scarlet reminded himself. Still, even a stranger could see the way Liall’s hackles rose when Vladei stood up, and the way Vladei regarded his kinsman with a mixture of hatred and icy contempt.

  It was the first time Scarlet had ever seen this man that Liall had named several times as a danger. He could see the strong family resemblance to Liall in Vladei’s hard features, but Scarlet felt an almost instinctive wariness for this cold man who bore his lover’s face.

  Vladei turned his attention to Scarlet and gave the young man a knowing smile. “You do know that's what you are, yes? A trinket. Perhaps that’s why my brother never had you tutored to speak Sinha.” He moved away from his chair and toward Scarlet. “Keriss kir Nazheradei. What do you imagine that means, I wonder?”

  Scarlet felt his temper rising as Liall moved to his side, facing Vladei. Liall took Scarlet’s hand and gripped it so hard that his knuckles ground together. Scarlet glanced at Liall to see his expression hewn in stone, all cold rage and danger.

  “It’s a court name.”

  Vladei chuckled. “Poor ignorant. Kir means belonging to. Or, in other uses, owned. Keriss, owned by Nazheradei. Like a jewel or a pet.”

  Scarlet’s stomach knotted up and he looked at Liall, waiting for Liall to deny it.

  Liall looked only at Vladei, and his rage was clear.

  “Liall?” Scarlet nudged him with his arm. Say something, damn it, he thought. Why doesn’t he say anything?

  Liall finally looked down at Scarlet, and there was something in his expression that made Scarlet’s heart sink.

  “Scarlet, I swear to you, it is not the coarse thing he makes it out to be. There have been many in Rshan, many honored and great people who have been known as kir.”

  Scarlet remembered when he had questioned Jochi about his court name and how Jochi had evaded answering him. “If it’s such an honored term, why wouldn’t Jochi tell me what it meant?” Scarlet looked to Vladei, forgetting for a moment that Vladei was Liall’s enemy.

  Vladei chuckled lowly and swirled the wine in his cup. Behind him, a woman covered her mouth with her hand, and Scarlet saw with a sick feeling that it was Shikhoza. She was laughing at him: the illiterate pedlar had finally been put in his place.

  Liall put his hand on Scarlet’s shoulder, turning Scarlet to look only at him. “Ignore that pig, he dirties everything he touches.”

  The taste of the wine was suddenly revolting to Scarlet, and he was dismayed to realize he felt the same way about Liall at the moment. He had refused to be bought when he first collided with Liall in Byzantur, and later he had not wanted the mariners to think he was a whore, yet Liall had made little of the offense when the mariner with the coin had accosted him aboard the Ostre Sul. Now an entire palace knew that was precisely what he was: a whore. Oh, prettied up in the usual fancy language, but still a whore. And Liall knew and had not told him, had not warned him! What did it mean? What was a t’aishka and what did being a Hilurin have to do with it?

  “Why didn't you just tell me?” Scarlet’s voice sounded thin to him, almost invisible, and that was how he felt. His chest was beginning to hurt as well as his head, now that he was feeling the bruises from the hunt. “That’s twice you’ve lied to me.”

  “When did I ever lie?”

  His face felt numb and stiff. “The day we met. You told me you were no prince.”

  Liall gaped. “I– Scarlet, surely you can't believe–”

  Vladei interrupted again. Scarlet wished he could punch his smirking face right there in the great hall, no matter what they did to him later.

  “Strictly speaking, he is not a prince.” Vladei bowed a little toward the other occupants of the hall,
all the nobles. “He’s a Blood Prince, carrying the royal blood of Rshan, but he can’t inherit the throne. Do you want to know why, little flower, little Keriss?”

  Liall whirled on him, letting go of Scarlet. “Vladei, I swear to you...”

  Vladei bared his teeth again in that unpleasant grimace that passed for a smile. “What? Will you kill me to silence me? Will it be a duel, or a knife in the back?”

  “Be silent!” Liall roared and his hand dropped to the knife at his belt.

  Vladei laughed again. “You have not changed, Nazheradei,” he jeered, “A snow-bear, a whore, is there nothing you will not kill your kin for? I would have expected no more from the Kinslayer, the prince who murdered his own brother.”

  The queen rose from her chair. “It was an accident, Vladei!” she said sternly, but she was pale.

  Vladei bowed to her, but there was hate and malice in his gaze. ”No, my Queen, it was not, it was a duel! He killed his elder brother because he wanted to be king.”

  Liall went even paler. “I never wanted to be king and I never intended to kill him!”

  Scarlet listened in shock. Liall had killed his own brother? That was why he could never be king. That was why Cestimir had said it was like the old romances, why Jochi told him to ask Liall about the line of inheritance. That was why Liall had been an exile from his own land.

  The image of a dagger bathed in the red light of sunset flashed before Scarlet again. He remembered how Liall had gone into a rage on Nerit Mountain, and how afraid he was that Liall might hurt him, dishonor him, kill him. He remembered that until then, Liall the bandit had kept his composure and had shown regret, and then Scarlet had called him murderer.

  Liall took a step back and dropped his hand from his knife. Vladei closed his mouth and bowed to the queen, apparently done spreading poison for now.

  Scarlet stared at Liall. “Why did you keep all this from me?”

  Liall gestured angrily. “It was my secret to keep. You were not a part of my life then. You have no right to know every detail that occurred before we met.”

  Scarlet felt sick. “This isn’t a detail, any more than letting the entire court call me a slave to my face when I don’t know they’re doing it. Gods, I’ve been such a fool.”

  Liall was cold. “There are reasons for what I do. You must trust me.”

  “Oh, must I?” Was that his voice, raised in anger and shouting in front of the assembled lords and ladies? Manners be damned. “Trust you? I spent four months on a rat-infested ship, sick half the time and hiding from your ill-mannered countrymen the rest. I followed your commands on the ship and I’ve followed them here, and at no time during all of that did I know who you really were or why you had come to Rshan. If that didn’t prove that I trusted you, nothing will!” Scarlet was shaking so hard that his voice trembled and he bit his lip to stop the words, fearful that Liall would take it for weakness.

  Liall’s mouth was tight, his dark face ashen and pinched. “I did not want you to hear these things. I was only trying to protect you.”

  “By keeping me ignorant? I don’t need protecting! I’m not a child and I’m for rutting sure not your pet! Will you, for the gods’ sake, stop treating me like a toy or an infant and start treating me like a man?”

  Liall kept his silence, and Scarlet believed that he looked vaguely ashamed.

  “I see,” Scarlet said slowly. “You really don't think of me as a man, do you?” His voice had miraculously turned level and calm, when he felt anything but.

  “That's not true, t’aishka. Will you listen to me?”

  “Don't call me that. Gods know what that really means.” Scarlet could feel the eyes of everyone on them, and imagined it was all malicious delight.

  Liall flinched and reached out to take hold of Scarlet’s shoulders again. Scarlet jerked away.

  “No! Enough!” Scarlet took a deep breath and saw Jochi’s horrified expression as well as the worry on the queen’s face. He wanted to simply flee from the hall, but he recalled Jochi’s lessons and bowed to her.

  “I’m sorry for the noise,” he said clearly, aware that he didn’t have the tact or court manners to say what had to be said with grace. “I’d like to leave now, please.”

  “Keriss, I regret but I cannot permit you to withdraw.” The look she gave him was not without sympathy, but it was unbending. “You will remain.”

  What for, so they could laugh at him again? So Vladei could mock him while Liall stood there like a lump? But the queen had spoken, and Scarlet had learned that, in Rshan, one did not defy a queen. He bowed his head and remained beside Liall, knowing it was the only place he could go at the moment, and he felt trapped and miserable. It was also suddenly very hot in the hall and he could feel that his face was flushed and sweating, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. His head ached horribly.

  Please, Deva, he prayed. I can’t fall down here, not in front of these fancied-up giants laughing at me. I’d rather die.

  ***

  Scarlet stayed where he was after asking to leave, and Liall knew it was only because he had no other choice. The queen was not done with her game of courts and pawns, and every courtier in the hall had seen Vladei’s plain and unvarnished hate on display. She was of course, hoping Vladei would hang himself further, and so Scarlet had been ordered to stay. He tried to catch Scarlet’s eye and Scarlet would not even look at him.

  Liall felt sick. Now that Scarlet knew about Nadei, he would want to leave, for who could love a murderer of their own kin? Not Scarlet, certainly, who put so much value on family and blood ties. He suddenly had a wild wish that he had told Scarlet about Nadei from the beginning, explained how it was, so that Scarlet would not be looking at him now like he was a stranger. A murderer. A liar.

  When the crew had wanted to toss Scarlet overboard, Liall said only that it was a misunderstanding and never that he made them believe Scarlet was his property. When Scarlet asked him repeatedly why he was journeying to Rshan, Liall had refused to answer fully. He had lied to Scarlet about being a prince, and he had never spoken Nadei’s name to him.

  Scarlet was no fool, and Hilurin have a deep-seated respect for secrets and privacy. Scarlet had known all along that there was much Liall was keeping from him. He had, in his forthright way, simply expected Liall to be honest with him in his own time, except that time never seemed to come.

  Liall tried to take his hand, but Scarlet pulled away.

  “No,” Scarlet said. Not snapping like before, but with listless anger. Scarlet hid his hands in his pockets, and that tore at Liall’s heart.

  “Scarlet,” Liall implored, trying to reach him with his voice. There were too many eyes on them, and the queen looked more distressed than ever. Liall looked after Vladei, wanting very much to follow his step-brother and pound his face into a pulp. He saw Vladei standing with Shikhoza near the queen’s table, and they seemed to be arguing. Cestimir was at the queen’s side, glaring at Vladei and casting worried looks in Liall’s direction.

  Vladei and Shikhoza’s heads were bent close together in conversation, and Vladei was twisting his rings again. Shikhoza gestured angrily and said something, her red lips twisted in a sneer, and Vladei smiled unpleasantly. She shook her head and left him, and Vladei went back to staring at Scarlet in that mocking way of his.

  Liall took Scarlet’s arm. “Come with me.” Liall pulled him when he would not come, almost dragging the Scarlet into a corner of the hall, behind a carved panel where they were less on display.

  Scarlet struggled. “Let me go!”

  “I will, just as soon –”

  “Damn it, you’re hurting me!”

  Liall released him immediately. Scarlet rubbed his upper arm and stared at Liall with an angry flush of shame brightening his cheeks.

  “My t’aishka,” Liall soothed.

  “I’m not your anything,” Scarlet flung back, as if he were deliberately trying to hurt Liall.

  “You do not mean that.”

  Scarle
t wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and Liall saw that he was sweating. “Stop telling me what I mean, what I think. Did you ever once ask me if I was your Scarlet? You talk about me to your servants as if I’m not in the room. You say I’m yours, that I belong to you, like something you own, your cup or your chair, but you never once asked me if I wanted to be owned. I’ve had enough of this.”

  Cold dread gripped Liall’s stomach. Love is such a fragile thing. It hangs by a thread most of the time. “Of what?”

  “Of lies and half-lies, of sneering Rshani nobility.”

  “They do not dare to—”