Whatever whim had stirred him departed abruptly. Before she could react, the Caisah had dropped her back on her feet and stalked from the dance floor. Talyn, after a second, followed.
She retreated from the whispers and stares, knowing she was acting like a beaten dog. The Caisah had disappeared entirely. Deprived of their sport, the rest of the masked observers reluctantly took to the floor.
Taking a small glass of chilled juice, Talyn slipped through the outside door and to the relative quiet of the balcony. Angrily, she discovered she was shaking.
What thoughts were in the Caisah's head? Had one stranger's meager attentions changed something in their set relationship? After being sure that she would give in to any sexual advances he made, Talyn was now uncertain.
He knew something of her actions beyond V'nae Rae. Even a few hours' ease from the rigors of her life was too much, it seemed. Perhaps she'd been lucky for her dalliances to pass unnoticed for so long.
Talyn rubbed her arms, abruptly aware that they were bruised and sore where he had grabbed her. If she had needed another demonstration of his power, this was it. They would fade quickly, yet the point had been made.
“Am I disturbing you?” Her young escort stood poised to leave if she spoke the word. His masked face was doubly hidden in the shadows.
Taking a sip from her glass, Talyn considered for a moment before replying. “It is dangerous for you, I'm afraid.”
The tall form stood straighter and, taking a sudden step closer, shut the balcony door behind him. “If you don't mind the company, I'll dare it.”
They stood for a while, each with their own thoughts, looking out over the moonlit beauty of V'nae Rae. He was a good-enough companion: bearing her silence, and not asking any questions about what the whole of the Court had just seen.
Finally, though, Talyn finished her drink and watched him cautiously out of the corner of her eye. Dipping into the before-time, she endeavored to see what he might do, but there was nothing.
So she spoke instead. “Won't you tell me your name?”
A smile flickered at the edge of his mouth. “Now, what would be the fun in that? Besides, this is a masque, there are no names tonight. Not even for the Caisah.”
Talyn managed to keep the names she'd have liked to call her enemy to herself.
“Why don't you tell me a story instead? How about a tale of V'nae Rae? You must know it as no other does.”
And because he had been kind to her, and because it was indeed a beautiful night, she did.
Talyn pointed to the outer curtain wall where the pae atuae could still be seen gleaming against the stone in silver and white. “When the Vaerli ruled here, those walls would have been lined with the maie shara on a full moon like tonight. They would be calling to the Kindred with such pure voices that any who heard them would weep with the beauty of it. The magics they sang strengthened the pact with the realms of Chaos and allowed Perilous to remain.”
“Maie shara,” he whispered. “The artists of song who weave magic with it. What a wonder it would be to hear them…”
It was shock that made Talyn blurt out something she'd never mentioned to anyone before. “I was meant to be one of them—before the Harrowing.”
“Indeed.” He actually sighed. “The Harrowing has another victim, then, for it would have been an honor to hear you sing. I'm sure you have an exquisite voice.”
She couldn't read his face, no intent of his stained the before-time, but suddenly she felt as though they had met. Surely no one of five minutes' acquaintance could look at her so boldly.
“I really am a fool.” Talyn stepped closer to examine what little of his face showed beneath the mask. “It was you at the Gates and then at the games. Who are you? Why are you following me?” He had certainly looked like no well-to-do gentry at either of those previous times.
He cocked his head. “Perhaps I can help you recall.”
Reaching out, he took her face in his hands. Talyn did not move. Then he bent and kissed her. It was not the gentle enquiring kiss of a new love. It was tongue and teeth with the ragged breath of full-blown passion. It was the kiss of someone who already knew her, and had felt her lips before.
He let her loose and stroked her cheek. “Now must I die for my impertinence, Talyn the Dark?”
She swallowed. “Twice tonight I have been accosted by men and not asked for it, but perhaps this night all sins are forgiven. I shall let you keep breathing.”
He laughed and bowed a fraction. “Then I shall escape while your graciousness remains. Perhaps next time you will really recall where we have met and who I am.” He turned and slipped out the door.
What a strange night. Talyn turned away and tried to think rationally. She had not looked for all this, and it certainly did not figure in her plans. She was simply not used to such turmoil—at least not recently. With bounties there was always a beginning and an end. It was always very simple a matter between her and the hunted. Tonight was quite different. Yet somehow her spirits were lifted. She did not daunt at least one person in this world, and perhaps that meant that a spark of her old self still remained. It was a comforting thought that she held onto.
Of all the foolish things he had ever done, Finn knew going out onto that balcony had topped them all. He shut the door behind him as quickly as he could, and stepped away, letting his minor power hide him amongst all the lords and ladies. He did not know if it would cloak him from Talyn, but at this stage it was all he had.
Walking away, he did not hear her follow. It was a good thing, too. She would probably recover herself soon enough and, though not carrying a weapon tonight, she could still kill him in a hundred other ways.
His purpose in coming here had not been to kiss the Caisah's Hunter, but seeing her out on the balcony like that, he had taken a chance. Finn had seethed with anger when the Caisah had mauled her on the dance floor. The emotion on her face afterwards was there for everyone to see: despair and loathing. The talk around him had been worse—he only hoped she had not heard it.
“The Caisah's Hunter?” one pale-faced lady had sniffed. “More like his whore.”
He had ground his teeth at that. Couldn't they understand how trapped she was? How tormented? If there was one thing Finn understood it was human emotion, so he couldn't be angry with them for long because they were blinded by fear of Talyn the Dark. They had never lain in her arms, kissed the soft small of her back, or all the secret curves of her body usually hidden by armor.
“Focus,” Finn whispered as he wove deeper into the crowd. Sometimes he wondered if he enjoyed tormenting himself. Depressive darkness always hovered at the edge of his vision and he was its maker. Tonight, though, he had to remember why he was here.
He could always judge the mood of a place, and right now the air thick with perfume was ripe for the weaving of stories. The ballroom, packed with drunken people and more than a little loosened by the anonymity of the masks, was perfect for his purposes.
It could still be his last talespinning, but desperation had driven him here. The people of the inns and the streets, whom he had spent years trying to foment into rebellion, were not falling into line with his plans. They cried at all the appropriate moments, thought when goaded, but still did nothing.
What was needed was a leader, someone who would dare to begin an uprising. Previous rebellions had failed because of the lack of a really charismatic figurehead. Looking around, Finn could only hope that there was some hard-done-by member of the gentry he could reach here. Surely there was someone who had felt the touch of the Caisah's cruelty and was ready to make a move. If there was, then his talespinning would reach someone and it wouldn't matter what happened to Finn—he would have passed the torch of rebellion on to another. Once lit it would spread. Or so he hoped.
A lull in the music was his signal. With a well-considered flourish, Finn leapt onto the table where a huge lavender cake was displayed. It was the center of the milling crowd, and it would do as well as any s
tage. He had only seconds to speak before the guards realized what was happening. If he did not have them in his thrall quickly then the whole effort would be in vain.
They cheered and raised their glasses, thinking he was one of them and well into his cups, and probably expecting him to topple off the table at any moment. At this late stage in the festivities they were looking for some variety in their entertainment, and he meant to give it to them.
Always start with a bang, Finn reminded himself. Taking a well-measured breath, he began.
“In between chaos and order, against destruction and death, the Vaerli stand.”
The crowd paused. Even those who had not seen him mount the tabletop were turned in his direction. His voice, trained by years of dedication to his craft, traveled right to the back of the ballroom, cutting across the faint strains of the musicians tuning for another song. Finn used all his body to speak, his breath perfectly timed from his diaphragm as his teacher Muyesth had schooled him, and every note of his tale was colored with emotion. From the first words out of his mouth he knew that he had them. At the doorways, even the guards were not moving.
“The leader of the Vaerli, Ellyria Dragonsoul, was tested by the Kindred. Through fire and pain she had to travel to earn the right to stand before the red hot core whence all Chaos comes.”
A slight movement in the crowd caught his eye. Entranced already by his words, the lords and ladies only swayed slightly to allow Talyn to pass. She took her spot near the front—but did not move to stop him. He could have sworn there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.
He was too much of a master to falter at that.
“The Vaerli came to Conhaero through the White Void which had been opened up just for them by the Kindred. In the nature of their kind, the Kindred did not make anything easy for Ellyria and her people.
“After finding places in the changing landscape for her people to live, Ellyria set out to find the Kindred who called to her through shadow and fire. Many years she had to travel, looking in every boiling lake and deep cavern of the earth. The journey exacted a terrible price on her, for the Vaerli were new to the world and did not yet possess the Gifts. She grew old and tired looking for the voices that led her into all the wilds of this new land.
“Finally she came to the lake of molten fire at the edge of the world, beyond which lay only the raw stuff of chaos. Despite her age and struggles the Kindred would not yet aid her in any way.
“Three times they called from within the lava boiling from the depths of the world. They called for her to jump into the flames and speak to them in their own realm. Ellyria may have aged, but she did not yet wish to let go her grip on life.
“The first time she demanded, ‘Show me your face.’
“The lava leapt forth and burned away a portion of her own face, including her peerless eyes.
“Howling, she again denied them. ‘I cannot walk where you walk.’ At this refusal the fire sprung forth and burned one leg to a withered stump.
“Again they called and this time, she had nothing left of herself to lose. Crawling on her knees, clawing her way forward with her fingernails, she finally entered the lake of fire.
“Though her body should have been burned away totally, the lava scourged her but did not consume. The pain was more than any creature before or since has endured, but Ellyria did not call out. She let the pain have her and passed beyond it to the other side where the body is lost and only the pureness of spirit exists.”
Finn paused for breath, only a beat but enough to judge his audience. They were silent, entranced. Even Talyn, who surely already knew this tale, did not stir. He went on quickly before his thrall wavered.
“The Kindred stood before her wreathed in flame and power. Though they were fearsome to look at Ellyria did not bend to them.
“‘Why have you called me here?’ she asked, though she could not even tell if she still had lips.
“‘You are to be blessed.’ The swirling eyes of the Kindred seemed to pierce her through. ‘You and your people will be given great Gifts and great burdens.’
“Ellyria knew the way of things and that such generosity usually came with a price, so she was cautious. ‘Why?’
“The air grew hot around her. ‘You of all the people in the White Void have been called to us to join us in the great task. You will become part Chaos and receive the Gifts we offer in order that you may be equal to the task.’
“Ellyria felt the weight of those words enter her and knew this could be the making or the unmaking of her kind. Yet she was strong and stepped forth boldly. ‘We will take up the task.’
“‘Be warned,’ the Kindred whispered, ‘if you fail, if you fall at your task, there will be no safety in this world or any other.’
“‘I swear we shall not fail you,’ Ellyria promised in her arrogance.
“‘Very well then.’ The Kindred caught her up once more, bringing her into their fire. Into her eye they burned seven stars to equal the seven Gifts they had to give.
“And from this came the Pact that all Vaerli sing to this day.
They gave us Gifts mighty Kindred, for we are held most high.
First given; earth sense, no place would ever be strange.
Second was empathy, another's feelings would exchange.
Third found was the strength of flesh, to pain and not to die.
Fourth; the giving Seers could see the future through their eye.
Fifth was the gift memory control, so it would never derange.
Sixth; both gift and curse, to travel and yet to never change,
Last gift, the Seventh, time mastery, though for others it might fly.
Ellyria's Pact was made, the Chaos Kindred bound.
But Gifts are not given easily, and for everything
There is a price for Vaerli and for Kin who stray.
Beware the Void they called with frightening sound,
Cursed you will be if it comes and you cannot sing.
Hold fast your word, and flame may be held at bay.”
He knew in the Vaerli tongue it sounded better, yet he hoped the message still reached them.
The room grew suddenly warm and the slightest of stirrings in Finn's audience told him he did not have long before the Caisah returned. He'd been lucky to get this far.
He went on quickly, for a moment losing his careful pacing. “But it is we who must not forget. The Pact was broken and the Harrowing has all but destroyed the Vaerli. The time of reckoning is coming, and without rebellion against the Caisah the world of Conhaero is in danger from chaos and destruction.”
His ending words were not enough. Just before leaping off the table, he swept back and bowed to his audience. “This is a tale of warning by Finnbarr the Fox. Ignore it at your peril.”
He could actually see the top of the Fire Lord's costume over the heads of the crowd and recalled Ysel's warning. Despite his yearning to come face-to-face with the tyrant, he suspected it would be the last thing he would ever see.
Letting himself fall backwards off the table, Finn called on his minor powers with all of his strength. He promised not to think of them as little if they would only help. Even though he had been prepared to risk his life for this telling, he would still prefer to walk away. Would the Caisah call on Talyn to slay this upstart talespinner? Would she obey?
As it was, he would never find out.
The world dipped, wavering even as he waited crouched at the far side of the table. He could hear the Caisah's footsteps only a yard from his position, but he did not look up—concentrating instead on his powers.
“Search the grounds.” The Caisah's voice was full of outrage, and the room was so warm that sweat began to pour down Finn's neck and back. “Find that rebel and bring him to me immediately!” The guards' armor clattered as they hurried to obey.
The ballroom broke into chaos as all thoughts of mindless pleasure were abandoned. Taking a deep breath, still keeping his eyes averted, Finn rose to his feet and
joined his erstwhile audience escaping the ballroom. Surely Talyn could see him even if the Caisah could not. His cloak of insignificance had never fooled Vaerli. However, there came no shout of alarm or heavy hand on his shoulder.
Even when he stood breathing heavily on the streets outside the Waterfall Gates of Iilthor he still couldn't really believe it. The Caisah had looked right past him, like just another person. It raised his spirits. Their tyrant was not all-powerful if even a minor talespinner had been able to dupe him.
With a spring in his step, Finn turned downhill to his inn. He had gotten away with kissing the Caisah's Hunter and had repeated a seditious tale in front of the whole Court. All in all, it wasn't bad for a night's work.
They caught up with Byre not far from Oriconion. He had considered leaving the Road and heading into the Chaoslands, but he was not trained in the ways of his people. It would have been a quick way to suicide, so he stuck to the Road hoping to find a wagon.
Byre's luck, such that it was, did not hold; no before-time flash warned him, only the sound of pounding hooves. So he ran, but this was open country and with nowhere to go the Rutilians simply rode him down. He managed to get a few satisfactory whacks in with his stick, but their greater numbers overwhelmed him.
Knocking him to the ground, they set about kicking and punching with great enthusiasm. Rolling into a ball, he tried to protect his head and let his mind wander away from his body even when he recognized the tune of a rib snapping.
When they had finally worked themselves into a state of exhaustion, they pulled him to his feet and tied his hands behind his back with never a word spoken.
Gasping at the pain, Byre dimly made out two figures standing watching the whole affair. The Kindred wore their ethereal form, and their red eyes were fixed in an impassive stare. This time, though, there was no help. No eruption from the earth itself came to save him.
Byre didn't understand.
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