Blinding light emerged between them, shining through both of their upper bodies and making them translucent. As Ashe’s body stiffened in ecstatic release, the light entered his chest and left Rhapsody’s completely. She began to sigh in the throes of her own climax, and he held her until she calmed again, her face wet with happy tears.
His own tears mingled with hers as he felt the pieces of his soul knit together, the metaphysical edges sharp in places, the stains of the F’dor’s dominance stinging a little when they came in contact with the rest of it. On the whole the experience of taking it back was drastically easier than he had anticipated. He had expected a struggle with an unwilling spirit, fighting to break free until he brought it under control. Instead it was sullen but subdued, and had been washed clean of much, if not all, of its past association, cleansed from the hate it had been surrounded by. It still held a few ugly memories of the Rakshas’s actions, but they were closeted, held in check until he could examine them more closely and carefully, when he was in control.
Ashe looked down at the woman in his arms. She had been the vessel; that was why it had been cleansed. He was free; the evil had been burned away in the fire of Rhapsody’s spirit, a spirit that believed in him completely and loved him utterly. It was in her eyes as she smiled up at him, and Ashe had to turn away, overcome with emotion. She had renamed the piece of his soul to as it had been before it was taken.
“Are you all right?” she asked, concern coloring her voice. “Did I hurt you?”
Ashe sighed, and pulled her to his chest, burying his face in her glistening hair. “Yes,” he murmured in her ear. “Yes, you did. You made me love you so much that it hurts.”
He could feel her smile beneath him. “Good,” she whispered. “Then at least we’re even.”
49
Rhapsody handed Ashe the last dish to dry and wiped the table clean as he put it away. She folded her arms and watched him in amusement, the Kirsdarkenvar, the future Lord of the united Cymrian houses, crouched in front of her cupboard as he stacked the supper plates inside it. She noticed the muscles of his back ripple and sighed deeply as she always did on those rare occasions when she allowed herself to think of the Future. Knowing her time with him was drawing to an end always made her sad.
Ashe stood up, and as he turned to her he smiled. He took her hand and kissed it, then tucked it into the crook of his arm as he led her into the parlor.
“How about a song? I haven’t heard you play in a very long while.”
“I did devotions before supper. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Yes. I meant a story song, a ballad of some kind. It will help me practice my Ancient Lirin so I can improve my idioms.”
“All right,” said Rhapsody, smiling. “If you like I can sing you a Gwadd song; I know one.” She sat in one of the two chairs that faced each other before the fire.
A look of interest came over Ashe’s face as he sat in the other one. “Wonderful! I had no idea you had met Gwadd.” The tiny people, slender and almond-eyed, were legendary; most people were uncertain if they really existed.
“I saw a few of them in Serendair, actually; they rarely came to the city where I lived.” Ashe’s curiosity was aroused, but he stopped himself and honored their custom of leaving the Past unquestioned. It was better to learn from the memories she offered about it, anyway.
Rhapsody went to the special cabinet where her instruments were stored and pulled out her minarello. It was a strange red instrument, sometimes called a groan-box, with many pleated folds, the whine of which sometimes reminded Ashe of sick dogs moaning, except when in her hands. He had heard many drunken sailors butcher music pitifully with one in his days at sea, but when Rhapsody played it, the instrument had a jolly sound that made his feet itch to dance. She returned to her chair and sat down again.
“Right; now, this is the Strange, Sad Tale of Simeon Blowfellow and the Concubine’s Slipper.” Ashe laughed, and settled back with interest to listen to the humorous song which Rhapsody sang with great solemnity, her eyes twinkling merrily. She bewailed the fate of the title character’s lost shoe; it had a comically tragic ending. Ashe applauded when she returned the minarello to its shelf, accepting his ovation with a deep, serious bow.
She returned to her chair before the fire, not acknowledging his open arms. “I have something important I have to do,” she said, looking at him directly.
Ashe nodded. “Can I help?” He put his hands on the arms of the chair in preparation to stand.
Rhapsody shook her head. “Not tonight. I mean something I have to do soon, in a day or two.”
Ashe lost his smile. “What, Aria?”
Rhapsody looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure of all the details, but I have to start by seeing Manwyn.”
“Why?” His voice had an edge to it.
“Because I need a piece of information I can’t get from anywhere else.”
“Is this in regard to the children you talked with Rhonwyn about?”
“Yes. But I think we need to talk tonight about what you have to do, Ashe.” He stared at her, and Rhapsody dropped her eyes, trying to phrase her words so they didn’t hurt him. “The summer is gone, autumn is here now. You have your soul back; you’re whole again. It’s time you left to prepare for taking the Lordship.”
“You want me to leave?”
Rhapsody sighed. “Gods, no. But we both know you have to.”
Ashe stood and came over to her. He crouched down in front of her, and Rhapsody felt her heart beat faster as it always did when he came near. “I can’t,” he said softly. “Not yet.”
She gave him another direct look. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here in Elysian if you’d like, but I’m afraid I will be leaving soon. The Rakshas is dead, and it’s time Achmed, Grunthor, and I got on with finding and killing the F’dor.
“What I have to do, among other things, is get a tool that will help Achmed locate it. There is some danger that it may switch hosts if it has a chance, especially without the Rakshas to do its repulsive bidding. Things will begin happening rapidly now; I expect to call the Cymrian Council soon after the demon is dead, assuming we can find the damned thing, and that will affect you greatly, you know.
“I think you should take this time to prepare yourself; perhaps you even want to seek out and talk with the woman you mentioned, so that you can see if she’s agreeable to being your Lady.” Her voice caught a little, and Ashe felt his heart twist in sorrow for her. “That way you can both be confirmed by the Council, and it won’t have to be called a second time. Who knows, if you don’t put forward your own nomination they may choose someone awful like they did the last time.” Her words ground to a halt when she realized she had just roundly insulted his grandparents.
Ashe saw her embarrassment and smiled. “You’re right. They did make a pretty poor pairing, didn’t they?”
Rhapsody took his hand. “No,” she said, looking into his eyes. “If the two of them hadn’t paired off, you wouldn’t be here, so I guess wonderful things can come from even the worst of matches. But it is critical for the entire continent, not just the Cymrians, that it’s right this time. You need to take the time to make sure you’re ready, and that your choice of the Lady is wise. You had best go and meet her, and see if she is someone who can lead, as well as make you happy. I won’t be responsible for delaying you any longer, no matter how selfishly I might like to.”
Ashe leaned forward and kissed her softly. “Not yet,” he repeated. “This can’t end yet. We have both suffered too much to lose the one time of solace and peace we’ve found.” He pushed his father’s nattering voice out of his mind.
“Achmed and I are leaving for Yarim the day after tomorrow,” Rhapsody said gently but firmly. “After that I expect to be gone for the foreseeable future.” She winced as her words stripped the smile from his face and he stood, turning from her and walking over to the fireplace. With a sigh she rose and followed him, touching his arm. “I wish I could avoid the pai
n this is causing you, causing both of us, but we knew it was coming. I’m sorry.”
Ashe nodded silently, lost in the shadows of the fire. When he finally looked down at her, his face was calm and his expression relaxed.
“Very well, then, if we need to move on from here, we will. I have some issues to wrestle with, foremost of which being this lovely fellow you returned to me last night.” Ashe tapped his chest; the scar he had carried in various stages of healing had vanished with the return of the soul fragment. He had examined a single memory of the Rakshas in the morning while Rhapsody was dressing in the next room. She had returned to find him shuddering in horror, curled up in the corner of the room as his mind witnessed the unspeakable acts his soul had participated in unwillingly, acts so repulsive their memory was burned into his soul.
Rhapsody shook her head. “You shouldn’t do that alone, Ashe,” she said sensibly. “Let’s deal with that before I go. I can be here to hold you and help you through it in any way I can.”
“Not much of a way to end such a beautiful summer,” he said regretfully. “I want the memories of this time to be happy ones for you, Aria, not ones of me screaming and exorcising my demons.”
“They will be; they are,” she assured him. “Nothing will take that away from either of us. But I have a suggestion.”
“So do I.”
“All right; tell me.”
“I’m going with you to Yarim, not Achmed,” Ashe said firmly. “I have been there repeatedly, and I doubt he has. I don’t trust him alone with you.”
Rhapsody looked puzzled. “Why not? We have traveled alone together through much worse places. He won’t let me come to any harm.”
Ashe thought about clarifying what he meant, then decided against it. She didn’t understand; she would never understand. “Nevertheless, I’m going. That’s final.”
Rhapsody’s eyebrows arched at the imperious tone. “Yes, m’lord,” she said with a touch of displeasure, but she did not pursue the point. She had avoided explaining to him about the children, knowing it would upset him. If he came to the prophetess with her, Manwyn might tell him, but Rhapsody was not prepared to deceive him if it happened. Instead she changed the subject. “Now, would you like to hear my idea?”
“Yes,” Ashe said, sitting back down as she did. “I’m sorry; what is it?”
“The Lord Roland is getting married in the spring, and, if you can believe this, I’ve been invited.”
“Tristan? No kidding. Well, I’m somewhat surprised they invited you.”
She giggled. “Me, too. He must hate me after our various run-ins. This is why I am glad to be a peasant; you never have to invite people you hate to your wedding for reasons of state, only because they’re your relatives.”
“He can’t possibly hate you, that’s not why I’m surprised. I would think they’d know you will outshine the bride.”
Rhapsody smiled. “You’re sweet.” Ashe sighed; he hadn’t been joking. “Anyway, perhaps we could meet up there, you know, get to see each other, if only for a little while, in the midst of a big party. It would be fun to watch the wedding. I told you a long time ago that if he invited me you could be my escort.”
He nodded. “That you did. Perhaps being aboveboard is unwise, given that the F’dor might show up at such an important event. Its host is probably invited. It would probably be the perfect opportunity to capture it, but you’re not ready.” He watched her face dim a little, her excitement wane, and he hastened to cheer her up. “But we can still meet at the wedding if we are clandestine about it; we can be like secret lovers. I would love to go with you, Aria.”
Rhapsody looked at the fire. “After you leave here, I think it’s best if we put an end to our relationship as lovers, Ashe.” She could feel him pale in the chair across from her. “It’s going to be extraordinarily hard for me to give you up as it is, so I think it would be advisable not to confuse things. If you’re off to pursue this ancient Cymrian woman whom the Council likes, I think you owe it to her to begin thinking about her in a pure way, unhindered by past—attachments.”
Ashe waited until she looked back at him. “All right, Rhapsody,” he said casually. “You’re right. She has the right to know I’m unencumbered when I propose. If she agrees to be the Lady Cymrian, and my wife, she deserves my total fidelity and devotion, unhindered by thoughts of anyone else.” His stomach twisted when his dragon sense felt her reaction to his words; though her face was serene and betrayed no emotion, he could feel the nausea wash over her, the flush of blood circulating in the thousands of tiny veins, each counted and obsessed over by the dragon. “You do still intend to be my ally, yes?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And my friend?”
She smiled brightly. “And your friend.”
He stood and went to her, offering her his hands and helping her rise. He looked into her eyes and stared as directly into her soul as he could, hoping his words would resonate there. “I love you, Aria. Nothing and no one can ever change that for me. You have said you love me as well; I know you do, I can feel it with each breath I take. Will you still? Even when we are apart?”
Rhapsody looked away. “Yes,” she said sadly, as if ashamed to admit it. “Always. But don’t worry; I’ll find a way to deal with it. I won’t embarrass you, Ashe. I told you, one of my reasons for helping you is that you will one day be my sovereign, and I owe it to you to assist you in any way I can. I could never compromise your happiness or your reputation.”
Ashe laughed. “Rhapsody, if people knew you have been my lover, it would only serve to enhance my reputation far beyond the bounds of belief. Now, two more things. First, I want you to promise me that when we get back from Manwyn’s you’ll let me make supper for you. We’ll have a final farewell assignation of sorts; we’ll dine in the garden and perhaps have a dance. Just a nice, romantic note to end on, especially if we’re going to examine the Rakshas’s memories tomorrow.” He shuddered involuntarily, recalling the one he had lived through that morning. “This has been a magical summer. I want it to end the right way.”
Rhapsody grinned at him. “That sounds wonderful. Can we dress up?”
“Certainly; I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe I can even get something to wear in Yarim. I don’t have many clothes.”
“And we can do the renaming ceremony.” Once she had returned the piece of his soul to him, she was insistent that she give him a new name, one the F’dor would not be able to find him by. He had agreed.
“Yes; that’s good.”
“All right, what is the second thing?”
He took her into his arms. “As far as you’re concerned, are we still lovers tonight?”
“Yes. Do you still want to be?”
His kiss answered the question for her.
50
From a distance it was easy to see how Yarim had gotten its name. In the language of the indigenous people, long ago driven north by Gwylliam’s forces, the word meant brown-red, like the color of dried blood. By and large the buildings had been constructed from the brick that bore the same name, made from the mud of this land, red clay that baked into a dark crimson in the fire as it took shape.
The capital city, officially known as Yarim Paar but often called merely by the province’s name, sat at the base of a high rolling hill, and was therefore all but hidden from sight when approached from the south. Then it appeared suddenly at the traveler’s feet, spreading out in all directions. The structures were the same color as the earth, and took a moment to become visible to the eye in the wind atop the hill; it was unclear whether they had sprung from the ground itself, though if they had they would have been the only things growing there. The city looked like it needed water.
A wave of heat had swept up from the east, born on a southern wind. The frost that had coated the ground for weeks was gone, leaving in its place a sense of false summer, hot and dry. In the forests to the east, the weather was undoubtedly glorious. Here it was desolate.
/> Yarim had once been a thriving city, but everywhere she looked Rhapsody could see the evidence of decay. The streets were lined and cobbled with stones, but between the cracks dry weeds and sun-bleached grass seemed to grow unfettered. The gutters were choked and clogged with garbage, turning the rainwater that collected in large barrels for household usage into the same muddy brown as the bricks.
On many street corners were groups of beggars, common enough that most people walked by them without notice. Rhapsody recognized some as professional lowlifes and riffraff, but many had the look of desperate hunger she remembered all too well. One young mother with an infant seemed especially in need; she reached for her hidden coin purse, only to be surprised when Ashe forestalled her by dropping some coins into the woman’s lap. She handed the woman a gold piece and hurried to catch up with him.
“I’m somewhat surprised,” she said.
“At what?”
“I wouldn’t have thought you the type to give alms.”
Ashe looked out from under his hood and into hers. “Rhapsody, I’ve lived among these people for the past twenty years. Admittedly I’ve spent most of that time in the forests, but even I need to come to town now and again. I could hardly fit in with the lords and ladies, now, could I? For the most part the human contact I’ve had has been in the streets. It wasn’t just as a result of my cloak alone that I learned how to be overlooked. It happens here and in the streets of other cities every day. It was living among these people that finally convinced me maybe there was something useful I could accomplish by becoming Lord Cymrian. We’re here.”
Rhapsody turned her attention to the large building before them. In many ways the great temple-like structure reminded her of the city itself: large, majestically built, but decaying from neglect. A series of cracked marble steps led up to a wide, inlaid patio. Eight huge columns stood on this unevenly paved surface, each one marred by expanding patches of lichen. The central building was a large rotunda crowned with a circular dome with two large cracks. To either side of this central structure long annexes had been added, with smaller pillars in somewhat better condition. A tall, thin minaret crowned the central building, shining a metallic blue in the sun.
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