Melenius brushed back Nevia’s sweat-soaked hair. “We have reached the city, my little snowflake.” He still insisted on calling her that, despite her altered human appearance. She was the woman he loved, no matter how far her elements fled from her. Though her very life might forsake her, he never would.
Nevia’s smile was weak, and Melenius knew she was unable to express herself elementally anymore. Rather, she did not dare do so, because any deliberate demonstration of her Lorin character would weaken her further and endanger the baby.
“My father will be happy to see me.” Nevia reached out and squeezed Melenius’s hand.
It pleased Melenius to see that Nevia had lost none of her sarcastic wit, but her words rang too true. They had had to come back; Judal was their only hope now. The curse was too far advanced, and they needed help that only Nevia’s father could provide.
A shadow fell over the litter, and Melenius assumed they had reached the gates. He was back in Nirrion after spending the summer and autumn in the country with his wife, after living freely and openly with Nevia, enjoying her daily company and her body – until she was unable to respond to him.
The litter passed through the Idilion Gate in the north of the city, and the familiar sounds and smells of Nirrion assaulted Melenius’s senses. The nearby market plaza teemed with merchants and consumers, and all the sights of the city served only to mock Melenius, to tell him that he would no longer be alone with Nevia. Death was near, and even at the end, they would be apart.
Nevia laid Melenius’s hand on her swollen belly, and Melenius could not help but wonder if she had somehow sensed his thoughts or at least read his troubled expression. She would do that from time to time – remind Melenius that death was not the end. Their child would live, and he would be their legacy. They had spoken at length about him; they had amused themselves on lazy summer afternoons imagining what he would be like, what color hair he would have, how his elements would manifest themselves and how soon.
“A boy,” Melenius whispered and then kissed Nevia’s burning forehead.
Nevia nodded. “I think so. Basura women always carry male children low.”
The litter twisted and turned along the wide avenues of the Aevi until it came to stop in Judal’s courtyard. Melenius was the first to step out, and he eyed Nevia’s slaves. They had been purchased in the country and therefore held no loyalty to Belamal. These men had seen Melenius and Nevia in their marital bliss, and they seemed now as tight-lipped as ever. Melenius just had to trust that they knew so little of Nevia’s status that they would not go around tattling. What else could he do?
Melenius reached inside and took Nevia in his strong arms, lifting her as easily as he would lift a child. Though she was full term in her pregnancy, Nevia had not gained as much weight as Melenius would have liked. Garalach’s curse weighed heavily on her, and Melenius would be a liar if he said he did not feel its effects, too. He brushed away his doubts and fears and strode across the courtyard toward Judal’s front door. He was determined to meet Nevia’s father with confidence and boldness, for what he had to ask Judal pained him.
Sero, Judal’s steward, met Melenius at the door. “I shall inform His Radiance of your return. Sit, and take your ease.” He clapped his hands twice and sent the house slaves scurrying into action. Sero had always struck Melenius as a rather haughty slave. To see him behave so obligingly toward his master’s enemy baffled Melenius. “Honey water and refreshments at once.” Sero bowed and hurried down the hallway toward Judal’s study.
“What’s this all about?” Melenius asked. Nevia was always better at discerning her father’s motives.
Nevia’s weak, chuckling exhale answered his question. “My father does not really know what we have been doing these past seven months, and he hates being at a disadvantage. He will act the gracious host in order to throw us off our guard and re-establish his dominant position.”
Judal hustled down the hallway, his arms held wide in acceptance, armed with his most artificial, most political smile. Melenius’s elements hardened against him at once.
“Welcome home, daughter,” Judal called out, crossing the atrium with long steps.
“Not quite,” Nevia said. She was laid out on a low divan, and she made no attempt to rise. “The next hill over.”
“Well...” Whatever Judal was about to say was cut short. “Are you in labor?”
Nevia shook her head. “Just tired. It was a long journey.”
“Yes.” Judal shifted his gaze to Melenius, and his eyes glinted with annoyance. “You’ve certainly managed to secret yourself away these past few months.” Judal sat in a nearby chair and turned his attention back to Nevia. “Why the sudden return, then? I thought you might have stayed away forever.”
“If it were up to me, I would have,” Nevia said. “But we have been compelled to return to Nirrion.”
Judal sat back, folded his fingers into one another, and laid his hands across his chest. “Why?”
Melenius would have loved to drown him in his waters, but such a display of elemental power would weaken him further and might possibly kill Nevia. Besides, they needed Judal, smug though he might be.
Nevia moved as if to shift herself, and Melenius was at her side at once, supporting her neck and head with one arm while with the other he shifted her buttocks, making her more comfortable. Melenius read detached amusement in Judal’s face.
“My time has come to give birth,” Nevia said, “but I think I shall not survive the trauma.”
“Why? You are young, though you look a bit bedraggled.”
“Not bedraggled, father. Cursed.”
Judal sat forward. “Cursed?”
Nevia called for honey water. It pained Melenius to see her struggle, and he would have offered to explain the situation for her, but he knew how important it was for Nevia to be able to stand up to Judal, her weakened state notwithstanding.
“Garalach,” Nevia said. “He tried to curse Melenius, but I got in the way.”
Judal gasped, his eyes dancing with mirth. “That night in the Senate.” He slapped his thighs and jumped to his feet. “So that’s what really happened?”
“I’m glad this amuses you,” Melenius said, also rising, just looking for an excuse to ball up his fist and wipe that arrogant look off Judal’s face.
Judal ignored Melenius. “Garalach always fancied you, but I didn’t think he had the twilight balls to try to off one of his rivals. Too bad he didn’t succeed.” And with a slow turn of his head, he locked eyes with Melenius.
Nevia reached up and took Melenius’s hand, calming his rage at once.
“I am dying, father,” Nevia said. “We need your help; we need you to promise to take care of our baby.”
Judal pursed out his lips, resumed his seat, and steepled his fingers. “We? As in you and Firin?”
“Yes.” Nevia pressed Melenius’s hand, bringing him back down to kneel beside her. “You must protect the child, father.”
“He is of Akar blood, the last of the line since your brother’s death. No one would dare harm him.”
“My brother’s death?” Nevia leaned forward, but fell back almost at once. “We had not heard of this.”
“Of course you haven’t. You’ve been hiding. Your brother died in the siege of Kelnapontum. He died gloriously, but he died without an heir.”
Melenius stared. “You seem really broken up about this, the death of your only son. And you call us Lorin unfeeling?”
Judal lifted his eyes to the ceiling and laid his hands on his breast. “Jehiel is looking out for his humble servant, providing me with a grandson and heir.”
Melenius wanted to ask if Judal had had something to do with his son’s death, but he put the thought from him. Nevia’s wrath was rising.
Nevia closed her eyes and centered herself. Melenius lent her his calming earth. She would need strength to endure Judal’s anger; she would need to control her fiery temper.
“Belamal would certainly
kill my child,” Nevia said. “The Akar name cannot protect him.”
Melenius watched Judal’s facial expression go from confusion to disbelief to fury. Whatever else could be said about the Chief Priest, he had a knack for uncovering truth in the vaguest intimations.
“Veirakai’s syphilitic dick!” Judal’s roar sent the slaves cringing in corners, but just as quickly as the anger had flared, it was gone. “Daughter,” he said, his voice calm and deadly. “Are you telling me that you could not give Belamal even a token fuck?”
Nevia’s skin cooled, and Melenius whispered to her. “The baby, Nevia. The baby.”
Her fever returned as she managed to keep her elements suppressed. “That is correct, father. Here is my husband. Your maneuvering be damned.”
“Belamal will kill the child when he realizes it’s not his.” Judal paced around the atrium. “I might be able to check his rage, but a man cuckolded is a dangerous and unpredictable creature.”
“He was not cuckolded—”
Judal cut short Nevia’s objection. “Yes, yes! True husband and all that. You’re more tiresome than the herald reading the Senate’s minutes. Expedience, daughter! Haven’t I taught you anything?”
“You do not want me to answer that,” Nevia said, her voice low.
Judal’s face cracked into a smile. “So, why me? If you cling so stubbornly to this Faror beast, why give me the child? Surely Firin would be a fine father, raising the boy to speak that barbaric Faror tongue, wear animal skins, and do whatever else those savages do.”
“Melenius shares in the curse, just as he shares my elements. My life is his, and his mine.”
Judal nodded slowly as if he understood, but Melenius doubted he understood anything at all.
“We cannot expect you to comprehend this,” Melenius said, “what with you being human and all.”
Judal snorted. “That’s rich! I knew your father, Firin. He was as human as any other man. You are, too.” He looked at Nevia. “And you, too. I am a man of flesh and bone, your mother a woman. Stop acting like you’re so different and special. I was there the day you came out. You know, I’m quite disappointed in this uncharacteristic sentimentality, Nevia. Firin isn’t worth it.”
“Do you even know your own wife, then?” Nevia asked.
Judal ceased his pacing. “What do you mean?”
“She is a Basura, a woman of passion. I am human, yes, but I am not like you in more ways than you know. I inherited from my mother more than just the elements of the Basur line. I am not some cold, unfeeling thing like you think I am. You never could read my emotions because they were buried deeply within my elements. I am a Lorin. You just assumed I was cold-hearted and ruthless like you. I am not.”
Melenius soon stifled his elemental smile, but the thought that prompted it remained. She is not cold-hearted or ruthless toward me, she means.
Judal curled his lip and took a seat. “Go on. Instruct me.”
“Do you not remember Miria, my mother’s great aunt, who died for her plebeian lover?” asked Nevia. “That is why your name is Nevius and not Darius.”
“Your love for Firin has killed you,” Judal said, “and you have no regrets?” His tone was not one of admiration.
“I do not expect you to understand. I just want you to promise to take care of our baby.”
“Of course. This is more than I could have expected. I always wanted a full Lorin grandchild anyway. And now you’re going to place it willingly in my hands? Jehiel’s sun warms me.”
Melenius could not hold his tongue. If he did not speak, the torrents of his anger would consume Judal in a never-ending flood. “How can you just casually sit there while your daughter lies dying? You think this Jehiel’s blessing? Skenje are an unfeeling race, but you’re a monster. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that you had some hand in Garalach’s plan to kill me.”
Judal’s eyelid twitched.
“Alaxton’s blood-soaked beard!” Melenius leaped to his feet and stoked the dormant fires within him. Judal had planned with Garalach to curse and kill him, a scheme that had Nevia lying on a divan dying. Melenius would destroy Judal and find another way to care for the baby. He whipped the flames into an inferno, and as he was shaping the element within himself, the fires, fanned by his uncontrolled winds, grew beyond his grasp and consumed him body and soul. Melenius would have burned to death that very instant had he not been able to call upon his waters to douse the flames.
“Having problems, Firin?” Judal stood over him, though his voice held no touch of concern. “This all comes from stubbornness. You need to learn to accept fate. The Akar rule here, and what we want, we get.”
Nevia twisted around so that she faced Melenius. “My love, be still.”
Judal straightened himself up. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Let that be what comfort it may. But I will take the baby. The question is how to deal with Belamal. He is on fire with your genius, Nevia.”
“But he will not be when he returns to Nirrion,” Nevia said. “Once the war is won, the fires will have run their course. The last spark of the shining Belamal Triumphant will die in Kelnapontum.”
“Then my assassins should have no trouble eliminating him as soon as he returns.”
Nevia’s mouth opened and closed, her shock clearly stealing her words.
“What?” Judal grinned. “Didn’t think I’d thought that far ahead? I had it planned for Belamal to die all along, even before I learned of your foolishness. Remember, this child was my idea.” He reached over and patted Nevia’s belly. “I didn’t want some overbearing, jealous father getting in the way of my plans. And then you would be the richest widow in the republic, grieving and loyal to the last. Belamal’s fame would be transferred to the Akar, and all the better for it. Don’t feel bad, daughter. One day you’ll be able to do what I do. It just takes practice.”
But she never would learn, and that thought was bitter in Melenius’s mouth.
Judal snapped his fingers, and Sero was at his elbow. “Draw up the appropriate documents.”
The wait was not long. Melenius helped Nevia stand and took a slow, measured walk with her around the peristyle. She wanted to see the open sky above her. When the curse had taken full hold of her in the autumn, she had sat in the garden of Belamal’s country villa. She had even slept beneath the stars on the few remaining warm nights.
“You are here, husband,” Nevia said. “I cannot feel you in my elements anymore. But here, I feel your airs on my face.” She turned her face toward the grey expanse and let snowflakes fall on her cheeks. “Here your waters caress my skin.”
Melenius hugged Nevia from behind, embracing her as tightly as her frail frame would allow. “Nistaran is just; he will not keep us apart. We shall be re-united in his halls. We must have faith.” He did not feel the hope in his words; they were ash on his tongue. Nevia did not reply, and he wondered if she could believe him.
In time the forlorn Lorin were summoned back into the atrium, and there Judal stood at a table with two wet clay tablets open upon it. Melenius supported Nevia on his arm, and she sat as he looked over the documents.
“Two contracts of adoption?” Melenius asked, but Judal shifted his gaze to the tablets, inviting Melenius to peruse the contents himself. He did, and then he understood. One tablet named the child the son of Belamal and Nevia. The other named him the child of Nevia and Melenius.
“My hope is for the first one,” Judal said, “but if we get too much trouble from Belamal, I’ll bring your marriage to light.”
“The people of Nirrion will not accept that.”
“The people of Nirrion will accept whatever I tell them to, Firin. You should know that by now. I’ll convince the courts to see things my way, and the public will follow their lead.”
“Craftier than Veirakai dicing with Nistaran,” Melenius said, not taking his eyes from the tablets.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Judal shuffle
d his feet in one of his signs of annoyance. “Just affix your seal to the tablet, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Melenius looked back at Nevia. Her eyes were as grey as the winter sky, her skin flushed. He would do whatever he had to to put her mind at ease. It had been her idea to come to her father for help, and Melenius would not deny Nevia this last thing. If she thought Judal was the best choice to raise their child, then Melenius would not argue the point. He had learned to trust his wife’s wisdom. As the curse advanced and her death drew near, she had gained clarity of thought.
Melenius signed the tablet. “See that my wife gets home safely.”
Judal nodded.
“I will see you soon, Nevia,” Melenius said, taking her hand and helping her stand.
Nevia kissed his shoulder. “Do not be long.”
“Unwise, children,” Judal said. “You cannot risk exposing yourselves.”
“What does it matter?” Nevia asked. “I am dying.”
Nevia returned to Belamal’s townhouse, and Melenius was loath to watch her litter go without him. He watched it until it disappeared down the road. Then he paced around Judal’s courtyard until his lictors arrived to escort him home.
When Melenius got home, the familiar walls of the house were alien to him. Every domestic comfort, once inviting, was inscrutable and distant. Slaves ran here and there preparing to welcome their master home, but the house was empty. Nevia was not there. Melenius had lived over half a year with his wife in the country as man and wife. Any place without her was lacking. The surroundings, once intimate, were strange. Cold. He suddenly had the desire to sit near a large fire as he had done before he had bonded with Nevia.
The old longings had struck him. Garalach’s curse made new inroads into his elemental soul.
Melenius dropped whatever he was holding and fled. His feet could not carry him fast enough to Belamal’s house.
Chasing Earth and Flame Page 20