Tyrion didn’t answer, merely nodded. He wondered what his father would think of his old plan. It wouldn’t be positive, he was sure.
“What are you going to do, when you go back?” asked Alan.
He had no real idea. “I think I need to find a new path,” he said at last.
“You know they want us to move, right? Was that part of your plan?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “One of the good parts maybe. I want to give people a chance to build a better future.”
“I like where I live.”
But I have to make sure you survive, thought Tyrion. Unless…
“Doesn’t make sense trying to get shepherds and farmers to live in a city, no matter how grand it is,” opined his father. “We need space, otherwise there’ll be no wool, and no crops either.”
“It would only be temporary,” said Tyrion. A new idea was rising in him, “Maybe you won’t have to move at all.”
“Have to?” said Alan with a frown. “Nothing’s been said about having to. A lot of us won’t go at all.”
“Bad choice of words,” he lied. “I do need to change things when I go back, though. It isn’t going to be easy.”
“That’s life for you,” said Alan.
“I don’t know how to do it,” he admitted. “Everyone expects certain things, and there’s a lot I can’t control.”
His father stood, carrying the infant in his arms over to one of the two cradles on one side of the room. Settling the babe carefully into his place, Alan straightened and looked toward his son. “The answer’s right there, in your arms. I don’t know what you’re into, or how any of that magic stuff works, but I’ve lived long enough to know how to make decisions. There’s no secret to it.”
“Apparently, I’ve failed to learn something obvious then.”
Alan put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly before moving on toward his bedroom door. “It’s easy. Just think about that child you’re holding. Whatever you’re doing, or going to do, think about how it will affect her. One way or another, that’ll tell you what you should do.
“Night, son.” And then Alan Tennick went to bed.
Tyrion didn’t sleep that night. He sat up through the dark hours, staring into the fire as it burned down to embers.
***
The two men watching the gate at Albamarl didn’t recognize him.
It was an unusual sensation for him. Tyrion had risen to great heights of notoriety among the slaves of the She’Har, and eventually among everyone else as well, human and She’Har alike. But that had been years ago, and while most knew his name and reputation, many of the newer slave mages that had come to Albamarl did not know him on sight.
These two stared at him nervously. “Please wait, sir. We will get someone to verify you are who you say you are first.”
He fought the urge to smirk as he watched one run off, looking for someone with more authority, presumably one of his children. Neither of these two were very bright. The intensity of his aura was enough to tell them he was no ordinary person from the slave camps. That combined with his tattoos should have been enough to convince them.
Once, he might have killed them to make a point. Not simply as a blind response to being challenged, but also to maintain his reputation, to instill fear in those who served him.
He was not that man anymore, however. He had changed, and today would be the day he began teaching a new way to those around him.
My old way was just a reaction to what happened. I fought hard because I had been abused, but the fighting only made me more of a victim. Going forward he would make his choices based on something greater than his pain. The cycle of pain wouldn’t be resolved by hurting his enemies, it was just the opposite.
Convincing the children that he had inflicted his madness on would not be easy, though. He knew that, but if there was anyone in the world that could do it, it had to be him. No, it could only be him. They wouldn’t listen to anyone else.
Anthony appeared and the look of surprise on his face was clearly evident, “Father!?”
“Anthony,” he said, nodding his head slightly. He moved forward, passing through the arch and ignoring the two guards.
“I didn’t believe them,” murmured his son. “After Brigid came back alone, I never thought you would return.”
“Nothing ever works out the way we think it will.”
“I told the guard it couldn’t possibly be you when he found me,” said the younger man. “Otherwise he’d be dead for trying to make you wait.”
“I’ve gained some perspective since leaving. How are things here?”
Anthony glanced at the two guards who still hung close, listening. “Back to your posts!” he ordered. Walking toward the main house with his father he replied, “Everything has gone according to your plan, the First saw to that.”
“First?”
“Emma.”
The sound in his son’s voice as he named her told him much. Emma was no longer popular among her siblings.
“She killed Layla,” added Anthony in a more subdued voice. “She might have killed Lyra too if it hadn’t been for Layla’s intervention. Kate and Lyra have fled to the Prathion Grove.”
“So I heard,” said Tyrion. He touched his son’s arm, indicating he should stop. “Before we go any farther, let me make this clear. I am not here to punish anyone.”
The look in Anthony’s eyes was one of disappointment, “Oh.”
“We’ve all made mistakes. What is important is not what was done, but what we do from here forward. Where’s Brigid?”
“Behind the main house,” said Anthony. “She’s been taking care of Eldin and Inara. I saw her out there earlier, playing with them.”
Tyrion’s brows went up, “Brigid?”
“She was put in charge of them after Kate left, and Layla…”
“An odd choice,” noted Tyrion. “She’s hardly the nurturing sort.”
“Emma was angry with her for interfering. I think it was a punishment as much as anything else.”
Tyrion felt a vague sense of unease at the thought of Brigid being the primary caretaker for anyone, much less his children. “I need to see this.” His magesight was already focusing on the area in question.
As they approached he could see she was throwing the children around the yard, tossing them like balls into the air. It looked dangerously violent and his stomach tightened involuntarily, but as they drew closer he could hear the two children giggling.
She would launch them, spinning and tumbling away from her in random directions, and at a casual glance it appeared as though they landed hard, but she was actually interfering in subtle ways. Their falls would slow before they struck the ground, cushioning them just enough to make what might have been a bruising landing into a thrilling but harmless stop.
As soon as they could get their feet under themselves they would try to stand, frequently falling over, dizzy and uncoordinated, before charging toward her as quickly as their little legs would carry them. She would let them get almost close enough to grab her before tossing them up and away again.
She was smiling.
Tyrion saw all this before he turned the corner. There were many people in the area with strong aura’s so Brigid hadn’t taken much note of him yet, but once he rounded the corner it was apparent that he was coming to see her. Her smile vanished as her attention focused on him and he saw the chain lift itself from the ground beside her, moving to float in the air between her and the newcomer.
Her face remained still as she recognized him, concealing her shock.
“I’ll be damned,” said Tyrion.
Inara and Eldin finished running back to her, this time unhindered, and they clasped her legs as she stood, laughing with joy at their catch. They still hadn’t noticed him, but when they did Eldin pointed, “Who?”
“Father,” said Brigid softly, as much a greeting as an answer to Eldin’s question.
“Fadder,” repeated Inara.
/> “Nice dress,” said Tyrion, noting the simple green shift that Brigid was wearing.
His daughter’s face flushed with embarrassment in much the same way a normal person’s would if they had been caught naked. “It keeps them from trying to latch on,” she observed, pointing at her chest, “or it did. I got a little used to it.”
The plain dress was dirty and rumpled, a stark contrast to the children themselves, who looked much cleaner than she did. Brigid had changed in unexpected ways. He wanted to ask her about everything, but a number of people were approaching, from several directions.
Word of his arrival had spread and his children were coming to see the truth for themselves.
In ones and twos they came. Anthony and Violet were first, and then Piper appeared. They stared at him with something close to hope in their eyes, something he had never expected to see. Tad and Ashley were next, followed by David and Sarah, then Ian, each of them stopping some ten feet away, unconsciously arranging themselves around him in a semicircle. Abby looked the most relieved to see him as she strode up anxiously. A dozen questions rose from them, but before he could answer any of them they fell silent.
Emma and Ryan had arrived, the two he had been closest to, his most trusted, and now their leaders. The air was tense as his children waited to see the result of their reunion.
Tyrion studied Emma with a stern gaze. She was gaunt. She had lost weight and there were dark circles beneath her haunted eyes. Her former serenity was gone, replaced by a hardness that reminded him of himself. The past year had transformed her.
The old Tyrion might have killed her for her action regarding Lyra and especially for Layla’s death, but he felt something different now. Seeing her was like gazing at his own soul, or at least at the version of himself that had existed a year ago.
He had put her in charge knowing her heart had been poisoned by rage and hatred. He had given her the reins because she was the most like him. Some of her choices might be different than what his might have been, but they had been executed in the same relentless spirit, and for the same reasons he had once believe in.
Whatever she had done, he might as well have done himself.
And those decisions had nearly destroyed her.
She crossed the invisible line that the others had stopped at, some ten feet distant, and approached until she stood directly in front of him. Emma’s back was straight and her neck unbowed. “You actually came back,” she said.
He wanted to embrace her, to take away the pain, but he knew her, knew himself too well. That would never work. Instead he told her what must be lurking on the surface of her mind, “I heard about Layla. Kate and Lyra woke me, forced me to come back.”
Someone snickered faintly as he said it. Ian, expectantly watching. Tyrion ignored it.
Emma looked him straight in the eyes, seeing the judgment there, and without warning, she knelt before him, turning her face down to the ground. “I did as I saw fit, but I will accept whatever resolution you seek.”
Her aura became brighter, and Tyrion could almost sense the burden lifting from her shoulders. She wanted to die, and his return had given her hope that he would end her suffering. It made him want to cry for her, but he kept his face expressionless.
“Did you do as I said?” he asked firmly.
“Yes, Father,” answered Emma.
He looked at Ryan, “Is the construction finished?”
The parts that are required were done months ago. All we do now is to add to the city that will never be used, to maintain appearances, responded his son silently.
“The slaves, the Mordan?”
“They are ready,” answered Ian. “They need only be awakened.”
They had done it. Emma had done it, driving them according to his wishes, until they were ready to unleash a doom that would destroy the world. All that remained was to gather the people of Colne and Lincoln, to put them in the places prepared to keep them safe.
A word from him and they turn the world to dust and ashes. But he no longer wanted that. What a cruel irony, thought Tyrion. They did it, but I no longer want it.
He turned his eyes to the rest of his children, searching their faces, and then he spoke, “Some of you are hoping I will punish her for what happened to Layla. You will be disappointed.
“Everything Emma has done has been in my name, and she has done well. If any of you have a grudge against her you may bring it up with me, otherwise you may as well forget it. What is past is done. Kate and Lyralliantha will be returning tomorrow. There will be no more dissension among us. Do you understand?”
Their voices answered firmly, a smattering of, ‘Yes, Father’s ringing out.
Bending down, he took Emma by the shoulders, lifting her up to stand on her feet again, “Do you understand, Emma?”
“Yes, Father.” There was a mixture of relief and shame in her eyes.
“You did well,” he told her. “Rest for now, eat something. You’ve shouldered an unbearable burden for far too long. Let me carry the weight now.”
Emma kept her back straight, but her eyes were watering.
“Shhh,” he whispered, giving her a wink. “Don’t let them see you cry. I’m proud of you, but you can’t let them see your weakness, not after ruling them.”
Chapter 37
The next two weeks were largely uneventful. Autumn progressed into the first snow of an early winter and the people in Albamarl slowed down. The frenetic pace was gone. Tyrion’s return had left them all wondering what would be next, but when he didn’t appear ready to do anything in particular everyone gradually began to relax.
The quality of the food certainly improved with Kate’s return.
Some things were awkward, of course. Kate made no attempt to speak to Emma, actively ignoring the woman who had killed her friend. It was the best she could do. Abby was much the same, refusing to speak to her sister unless absolutely necessary.
Emma for her part actively avoided Kate whenever possible.
Lyralliantha, true to form, acted as though nothing had happened.
Brigid continued to play with Inara and Eldin whenever she got the chance, having discovered that she had more in common with children than any of the adults around her.
Inara and Eldin had some difficulty adjusting to Kate’s return, not being entirely sure who their mother was, but with time there was little doubt they would sort it out. In the main they seemed delighted to have so many people interested in them. Kate and Lyra both spent time with them and having Brigid for a devoted big sister meant they never lacked attention. They were a bit skeptical about the two infants that had replaced them as the absolute center of attention, but they would adapt to that as well, eventually.
Tyrion did nothing.
Nothing of note, anyway. He ate, slept, and enjoyed watching the others, but he made no attempt to change anything, or further his old goals. He let his old plans sit dormant, and when he did consider them, it was to wonder how he would eventually dismantle them.
He told no one of his change of heart, thinking that time would make it easier. So he decided he would merely stall things for a year, and then begin to making his new wishes known. Once his children got used to waking up each day without contemplating the end of the world, they might be more amenable to creating a more peaceful future.
Let them grow fat and complacent with hope for tomorrow, he thought to himself. Eventually they will want tomorrow more than vengeance.
When mid-winter drew close he invited Thillmarius to join them for a feast to celebrate the winter solstice. After his time as a tree he discovered that his old fear of the She’Har trainer had diminished. The cold dread he had felt in the Prathion lore-warden’s presence had faded almost completely.
He was a new man, and ready to make new beginnings.
Thillmarius brought a small cart laden with bread and fresh butter to the feast. The She’Har had been overenthusiastic in his baking, but no one complained. They ate roast pig and followe
d it with the surplus of side dishes that Kate and Lyra prepared. The bread was a perfect complement, even if there was too much to finish.
Albamarl was content and while everyone wondered at the change, no one questioned it for fear of ending what they thought must be a temporary period of happiness.
Serrelia watched it all, puzzled by their behavior.
She had entered Albamarl only days before Tyrion’s return, stealing the body of one of the slave mages to make it easy for her to move around without suspicion. Of course, she wasn’t the true Serrelia, she knew that. She was a mind-twin and she periodically reported her news to her progenitor who stayed well beyond the area around Albamarl.
The body she inhabited had belonged to a woman named Tracy. She kept her memories, although they weren’t very useful, other than to further her disguise. The biggest difficulty she had was avoiding detection by those who had known the woman previously.
Tracy had been a Gaelyn, but since Serrelia had crushed her mind and stolen her body, she was no more, and neither was her gift. If anyone expected her to change form it might arouse suspicion when she was unable to do so.
The simple solution was to twin herself again, taking the bodies of those closest to her, but she was loathe to do that. She dreaded the confrontation that would come when she eventually returned to her progenitor. The fewer of her that existed, the greater her chance would be of remaining the primary when the day of her reunion came.
So she contented herself with subverting all the slaves that knew her, gradually altering their minds and personalities without directly taking control. Over time they became devoted to her and she was certain that if the need arose they would give their lives for her.
She considered trying to take one of Tyrion’s children, but discarded the idea. It was far too risky. Their minds were far more complex than the emotionally stunted former slaves, and their aythar was blindingly strong. If she caught one by surprise, perhaps, but it would be a risky battle and likely to draw attention from the others.
Betrayer's Bane Page 29