by Victor Poole
"Burn them," she said at once. He looked up at her as though she were crazy, and she did not smile at him this time. She saw that he loved the books.
"Why would I burn them?" he asked, and his voice was throbbing with fear. "They have been my friends," he said, "when I had no one."
"They make you sick," Ajalia told him. He creased his face into a negative response, but she raised a hand, and interrupted him. "Listen to what I say," she said. "When I was younger, I had a thing my mother had given me. Your father gave you those books, didn't he?" she asked. Delmar shook his head.
"I stole them," he said hoarsely. His voice was barely stronger than a whisper.
"Your father knew you would find them, and he knew you would take them, and hide them," Ajalia told him. "He wanted you to read what was in these books."
"My father didn't do that," Delmar said confidently. "He wouldn't understand the words."
"I will bet you the book of Bakroth's wife," Ajalia said, "that if we go to your father's house, and into his study, we will find evidence of the old Slavithe writing."
Delmar's face quickened; he glared at Ajalia with narrowed eyes.
"You'll give me that old book?" he demanded.
"The people in the quarries still speak much of the old Slavithe, and use it," Ajalia said. "I know your father could read it. He knew what was in these books."
"He didn't," Delmar said. Ajalia could see that he was still preoccupied with the idea of having the slim book for himself. "I'll go back," he said, "but only for that."
"And if I am right," Ajalia told him, "you'll burn these books."
"I don't want to burn them," Delmar said instantly. His eyes travelled down to the books. "What happened with your mother?" he asked. "What did she give you?"
"I had a necklace," Ajalia said. Thinking of it, and speaking of the necklace, made a flush of heat, like uncontrollable fire, run along her neck.
"And?" Delmar demanded. Ajalia met his eyes.
"I threw it away," she said, "because a slave trader was using it to follow me. I changed my face, but he asked after the necklace, and the other slaves could tell him that I had it."
"Well," Delmar said, "you could have hidden it better." Ajalia took a deep breath. She counted to ten.
"Do you know," she asked patiently, "that more than one person in Slavithe has confided to me that you hide old books outside the walls, and read them secretly?" Delmar jolted; he looked as though he had been smacked on top of his head.
"That's impossible," he said blankly. "No one knows. I have been very careful."
"Your father let you steal those books," Ajalia said.
"You don't know that," Delmar said impatiently. "You're saying that to get what you want."
"Watch this," Ajalia said. She lifted up the oldest and most ragged of the books, and opened the cover. "I'm going to tear this book," she told Delmar, holding her hand ready, "and then I'm going to burn the page." Delmar's whole body squeezed together; he did not step closer, but she saw him watching her carefully.
"Don't," he said.
"You're going to feel a rush of heat, when I do it," Ajalia said. "Your father has turned your power in on itself, with these books."
"That's impossible," Delmar said.
"Do you trust me?" Ajalia demanded. Delmar glared at her, his mouth clenched. "Do you?" she asked.
"Yes," Delmar admitted.
"One page," she said. He watched her narrowly, and then he took the book from her, and flipped to a page at the back that was empty on both sides.
"Do that one," he said. "And there won't be any flash of heat, and then you'll feel foolish for hurting my books."
"You're going to feel like your insides are on fire," Ajalia said, and she put her hand on the edge of the page he had selected.
"Why?" he asked.
"Are you paying attention?" she asked. His eyes were fixed on the page.
"Tell me why," he said.
"After," she said, and she tore out the page. Delmar let out a yelp, and then his eyes widened. He put a hand to his chest, and looked down at himself. Ajalia looked at Delmar's soul, and she saw that one of the long tears had closed up, and was glowing now with molten gold. It looked as though it had been welded together with unbearable heat.
"Ow," Delmar breathed, and it was the first time that Ajalia had seen him express pain without feeling sorry for himself. His eyes went down to the torn page, and then travelled slowly up to Ajalia's face. "Ow," he said again, softly, and massaged his chest.
"Your father used these books," Ajalia said, "because he knew they weren't true. He knew you would think they were real, and he knew that you would try to change yourself, to do magic. He caused you to tear up your soul. That's why you have holes everywhere."
"But these are real books," Delmar protested. "They're old."
"Yes," Ajalia said, "and they were written by Jerome, or people like Jerome and his wife. They were written to show how to steal, not how to work magic."
"That's impossible," Delmar said quietly, but his eyes moved irresistibly to the long stacks of old books. Ajalia could see that he was thinking of what would happen if he destroyed them all. "That can't be true," he said again, but his voice had changed. He sounded like a man who has hope.
"I got rid of the necklace," Ajalia said, "because it was too identifiable, and all the other slaves knew I had it." She did not say that she had killed the trader who pursued her this way, and she did not mention the trader's brother, whom she suspected of seeking vengeance. "I didn't want anyone to be able to follow me that way," she said, "but when I got rid of it, my body changed." She had never thought of the necklace as holding magic, but now, as she looked at the row of thick books, and at the rents and tears in Delmar's soul, she saw that she had hurt herself, by keeping her mother's necklace for so long after she had left home.
"Will you help me?" Delmar asked. He looked at Ajalia, and reached out and took her hand. "I don't want to burn them by myself," he said. Ajalia smiled at him, and a plan began to form in her mind. She wound her fingers tightly through Delmar's, and he grinned at the look on her face. "You've got some incredible idea now," he told her. Her smile widened.
"Yes," she said, and she knew now that Delmar was firmly with her, and on her side. "Yes, " she said again, "I do."
THE END
of
The Thief Lord's Son
BONUS:
Chapter One of book 4: The Dead Falcon
THE BURNED BOOKS
Ajalia and Delmar gathered up the long stacks of books, and made them into a tall pile on the edge of the tree hollow. Ajalia cut strips from the hem of her tunic, and tied up the books into bundles. She cut another long piece, and tied the bundled books to each other, and then hung them over the back of the horse.
"I never used to destroy my clothes like this," Ajalia said as she tucked her knife away.
"You look very exciting," Delmar told her, smiling.
"I look as though I've got a problem with wearing clothes," Ajalia said, regarding the shortened and ragged herm of her tunic. "This will have to change," she said, "when we're established in Slaveith."
"Are we going to be established in Slaveith?" Delmar asked eagerly. Ajalia smiled at the tone in his voice. She thought that Delmar had said he would never go back to the white city, after he had killed his father, but with the white shard out of his soul, and the long rent within him healed up as if by fire, he seemed now to be an entirely new Delmar.
"Yes," Ajalia said. "We have to establish a household, and go about things the right way." She gathered up her bag, and looked about the hollow. "Have we forgotten anything?" she asked.
"I feel as if we've left a body behind," Delmar admitted. Ajalia looked at him. She remembered the oddly hollow feeling she had experienced in her gut, after she had thrown out her mother's necklace, and how there had seemed to be an echo around her neck. She remembered how she had woken up at night for weeks, clasping her fingers around her throat,
searching for the chain.
"Let us talk about Ocher," Ajalia suggested. She led the black horse through the trees.
"You would never go back to Philas, would you?" Delmar asked.
"No," Ajalia said.
"Would you have gone back to him before?" Delmar asked. "Before today?"
"No," Ajalia said. "He's not in control of himself. His eyes hide from me. I could never trust him."
"What if he changed?" Delmar asked. He was following along beside her, one of his fingertips pressed just against the tip of the horse's black hide. The horse was longer somehow, stronger and brighter than he had been before Ajalia had wound red lights through his legs. His eye gleamed, and his legs thudded into the ground with the force of great trees.
"What is wrong with Philas," Ajalia said, picking her way through the brush, "is that even if he changes, the sadness and the anger can come back. It's hidden away inside of him, where even he cannot find it."
"If he found the darkness, and changed it, or got rid of it," Delmar persisted, "would you go back to him?"
"No," Ajalia said. "Everything he told me was a lie. He lied to me." Delmar watched Ajalia narrowly. He looked as if he wanted to believe her. "I might use Philas," she said frankly, "sometime in the future."
"Why?" Delmar asked.
"Because I know him, and he's clever and capable," Ajalia said. "He wants to help me."
"But he's a louse," Delmar said decidedly. "I hate him."
"He might be the next king of Saroyan," Ajalia said slowly. She told Delmar about the two pieces of heavy paper she had found in Lim's secret box, and of the writing she had not been able to recognize. "I don't know if that is what the papers are," she said, "but I have a feeling about it."
"And you're usually right," Delmar acceded.
"Yes," Ajalia admitted. "I have usually been right." Delmar thought over this for some time. The light filtering through the trees was heavy with sun; it was growing late in the morning. "Ocher will not be pleased that you are back so soon," Ajalia told Delmar.
"Where did he think I was going?" Delmar asked scornfully.
"It's my fault," Ajalia told him. "I thought you would have a breakdown. I thought I would need to nurse you back to some semblance of normalcy."
"Well," Delmar said decidedly, "you don't have to do that. I'm fine."
Ajalia looked at Delmar, and she saw that he did, indeed, look fine. She was surprised. She had been sure that killing his father, and destroying the remnants of his mother, all in one day, would have had a disastrous effect on Delmar. She had been sure he would, at the very least, have had some kind of fever. She had half suspected that he would run off somewhere in the wilderness, to create seclusion and healing for himself in isolation.
"You feel all right now?" she asked him.
"Yes," Delmar said.
"And you don't feel faint, or dizzy, or slightly unhinged?" Ajalia asked.
"Nope," Delmar said. Ajalia studied his eyes. She looked at the state of his soul, and saw the many tears and rents that lay throughout the colors that streamed in him.
"You're all torn up inside," she said quietly.
"Destroying the books will solve that," Delmar said. He sounded quite assured. "I'm sure I'll be able to do magic better, after we burn the books."
"Delmar," Ajalia said.
"Yes?" Delmar asked.
"You're going to have to win over Ocher," she said. Delmar glanced at her. He scruffed his fingers into the shoulder of the horse.
"This is a nice horse," Delmar said.
"Are you prepared to fight Ocher?" Ajalia asked. Delmar bit the insides of his lips.
"I shouldn't have to fight Ocher," Delmar said. His voice was light; Ajalia felt a sort of settling inside of her gut. She had thought that Delmar seemed too perfect all of a sudden. She tried to think of what to say to Delmar. Delmar walked beside the horse, his shoulders thrown back, and his chin thrust out into the morning air. He looked confident and easy in himself; he looked as though he had no further problems in his life.
"Delmar," Ajalia said.
"You sound very bossy," Delmar said.
"Do you think you're finished now?" she asked him. He shook himself a little, and looked at her.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You seem to think we've accomplished something," she pointed out.
"Well, we have," he said. "We got rid of my mother. I'll be able to do magic now. My father's out of the way, and everything in Slaveith will be perfect now."
Ajalia stopped walking, and put a hand on Delmar's elbow. She felt that Delmar needed a reality check.
"Delmar," she said.
"This sounds very serious," Delmar said, turning to look at her full in the face.
"It is serious," Ajalia told him. "I don't think you're ready. And," she added," Ocher is going to tell everyone that I've led your father out of the city towards the East, to meet with my master, so I can't exactly pop up in Slaveith and maintain that story."
"Why did you tell him that?" Delmar demanded.
"One," Ajalia said, "because I wanted to buy time. And two—"
"Why did you need to buy time?" Delmar demanded.
"And two," Ajalia said, "because Rane was getting nervous, and I don't want to set him off."
"Why would Rane get set off? Why would you set him off?" Delmar looked confused and annoyed.
"Look," Ajalia said, rubbing her fingers over her eyebrows, "you aren't ready to take power yet. You don't understand what it means."
"Then you'll have to tell me while we do it," Delmar said. "I think you're just getting cold feet."
"I am not," Ajalia said.
"Are too," Delmar said. "You thought that I was going to run away and be a crybaby, and now I'm not, and you're upset that everything didn't happen the way you wanted it to. Well, I didn't run away, and I'm here with you, and I'm going to go and be the Thief Lord." Delmar looked sternly at Ajalia; they had stopped walking, and the black horse was rubbing his face gently against Delmar's sleeve. Delmar stumbled a little to the side when the black horse pushed too hard. "Stop that," Delmar told the horse. "And," Delmar told Ajalia, "you can either come with me, and clear up this mess, or you can stay out here and play pretend. But I'm going home," he added.
"What are you going to tell Ocher?" Ajalia asked.
"I only left last night," Delmar said. "They probably haven't even told anyone yet that my father is dead."
"Ocher is going to take power," Ajalia said. "He's going to try to keep power, too."
"Well, I have you," Delmar said easily. Ajalia smiled.
"I thought I was free to live out here like a wild woman, while you sorted this out yourself," she reminded him.
"Well, I said that," Delmar admitted, "but it's not like you'll actually do that. You're coming with me, aren't you?" he added anxiously. Ajalia sighed. "What are you sighing about?" Delmar demanded. He sounded angry. "You don't need to go sighing, just because of me."
"I'm sighing," Ajalia said, "because there's a lot of work to do."
"So?" Delmar asked. Ajalia looked at Delmar; he was like an anxious boy who wishes to build a house, and thinks he can finish in a day. She led the horse to a tree, and tied him up. "What are you doing now?" Delmar asked. Ajalia took the books from the back of the horse, and untied one bundle. "What are you doing?" Delmar asked again. His eyes were bright.
"You're adorable," Ajalia told him, "but you make me tired."
"Why?" Delmar demanded. Ajalia laughed. She sat down.
"Come and help me," she said. She passed a thick old book to Delmar. "It's a pity," she said, opening the pages of a book, and examining the paintings inside. She ripped out a page, and began tearing it into pieces. She dropped the pieces into a neat pile on the ground. Delmar watched her, his eyes wide in shock. He looked as though he had been punched through the heart. His cheeks were pale.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, gasping a little. "I thought," he added hurriedly, a flush cr
eeping up his cheeks and into his hair, "that we were going to do that kind of destructive thing later."
"Now," Ajalia told him, and tore out another page. Delmar's hands were twisting anxiously around the edges of the thick tome he held.
"But," Delmar said, watching the scraps of gorgeous paper flutter helplessly to the forest floor. "But," he added, his voice weakening, "I wanted to," he put in, and his voice was very soft, "save one or two of them."
"No," Ajalia said. She ripped the page she held, right across a line of text, and began to shred the thick paper between her fingers. Delmar reached out, and snatched away the book she held in her lap.
"You can't," Delmar said, struggling for words, "you can't just destroy books, though."
"He'll destroy you, if you go back," Ajalia said. She picked up a third book from the untied bundle, and opened the cover. She saw Delmar's lips twitching. He reached out, and put a hand on the open book.
"Please don't," Delmar said. "And who will destroy me?" he added, as though he had only just heard what she'd said.
"Ocher will destroy you," Ajalia said. "You have zero chance against him. You're extremely weak. You can hardly stand to destroy a few books. How will you displace Ocher, who has killed men?"
"I've killed a man," Delmar said. His voice stretched a little, and broke at the edges.
"You killed your father," Ajalia said, "at my urging, and under duress, and after he admitted that he wanted you dead. That," she told him, "is a far cry from killing men."
Delmar's face creased into a long frown.
"I don't think Ocher has killed anyone," he said slowly. Ajalia pushed Delmar's hand aside, and ripped out the first two pages. "Stop!" Delmar cried. He snatched away the book, and clutched the three thick books to his chest. "These are very important old books," he told Ajalia. "They're special. They're very old."
"And they're full of lies, and your father used them to hurt you," Ajalia said. Delmar glared at her with blazing eyes.
"But they're mine," he said.
"You'll have to stay in the forest," Ajalia told him. "Or you'll have to travel somewhere else. You can't go back to Slaveith like this."