Hern nodded slowly. “That’s a good reason,” he acknowledged, somewhat to her surprise. “I wonder if other non-Aedin can bond Aethers… .”
“What other explanation is there?” D’Naa asked. “We’ve already done it in Kavir.”
“The Kavir people might be an exception,” Hern explained. “Maybe we’re related in some way we don’t know. Some Bonds are remarkable, but hardly conclusive—especially if they all come from the same area. Who knows, maybe early on in the Aedin invasion the Kavir and High Aedin royal families mixed.”
D’Naa sat back in her chair thoughtfully. His words did make sense.
“However,” Hern continued, “the thing I’m most interested in is your Bond. It’s remarkably strong; I know that much first-hand. Are the others as strong as you?”
D’Naa shook her head. “I’m the strongest. Some of them are close, however.”
Hern frowned, reclining in his chair. She could tell from his posture that he was still exhausted, but his eyes were alert as he pondered. “You must have mixed with a very powerful High Aedin Line,” he mumbled.
“But, shouldn’t that make our Bonds weaker?” D’Naa asked. “The mixing would have to have happened centuries ago.”
Hern shook his head. “That’s not the way it works,” he explained. “As long as there’s High Aedin blood in one of the parents, the children are High Aedin. Otherwise, the Emperor would never consider non-Aedin to marry his sons.”
“But, some of Kavir’s Bonds are very weak,” D’Naa said, trying another approach. “Wouldn’t that mean that we’ve mixed with regular Aedin too?”
Again, Hern shook his head. “There are weak High Aedin. The power goes down, but not up. Regular Aedin just can’t get as powerful as High Aedin.”
“And why is that?” D’Naa asked with a frown.
“Because we’re different races,” Hern explained frankly. “Just like Aedin and Kavir are different.”
“And couldn’t there be another explanation?” D’Naa continued.
Hern paused. “Like what?”
“How do newborn Aedin get their Aethers?” D’Naa asked.
“With Buds from a Line Head,” Hern said.
“And High Aedin children?” D’Naa asked.
“From their Line Head as well,” Hern said, frowning slightly in confusion. “And?”
“Don’t you see?” D’Naa said, leaning forward slightly. “What if it isn’t about the race, what if it’s about the Buds? Aedin children have weak Bonds because they receive their Buds from regular Aedin, who are also weak. High Aedin are strong because they get their Buds from strong Bonds. If you took a High Aedin Bud to a regular Aedin, I’ll bet they’d be able to create a Bond just as powerful.”
Hern frowned deeply, but she could see in his eyes that he was considering her words. D’Naa smiled, realizing how much she was enjoying the debate. Few people, even her grandparents, were willing to take up such issues with her.
“What about the weak High Aedin?” Hern finally objected.
D’Naa shrugged. “I guess some people just aren’t suited to the Bond. My cousin can sing beautifully, but two of his children are completely tone deaf.”
Hern sat quietly, mulling over her words. Finally, he looked up and met her eyes. “If you’re right,” he said, “then the Imperium is in for some monumentous changes in the near future. Assuming, of course, we survive the next few weeks.”
D’Naa raised her eyebrows. “You would let this information get out?” she asked, skeptical. “We just assumed you knew, and that you were keeping it quiet.”
“I didn’t know,” Hern said thoughtfully. “Though, to be honest, I came to my position somewhat unexpectedly. Perhaps someone in the Aedin government has been keeping such secrets.” He shrugged and reclined in his chair again. “I doubt it makes much of a difference. If I don’t tell the people, I assume Kavir eventually will, eh?”
D’Naa studied the young Emperor, respect rising within her. He didn’t threaten me, even though I know something that could topple his way of life.
“We’ll just have to plan for the release of the information,” Hern continued. “If what you’re saying is true, then the rest of the Imperium deserves to know. After all, the nation can only grow more powerful by having more Aether Bonds, can’t it? I’m High Aedin. The good of the Imperium is my most solemn duty.”
Then he turned back toward her. “How do you know all of this?” he asked. “How did you find out so much about the Aethers?”
“The Hlaa,” D’Naa explained. “Travelling teachers, like my grandfather. They visit centers of learning across the Imperium and bring knowledge back to the people of Kavir.”
Hern smiled. “They’re not just teachers, they’re spies,” he said with amusement.
D’Naa nodded, realizing just how woefully inexperienced Hern was. He had come to his position unexpectedly indeed—how could he not know the true nature of the Hlaa? Most of the Senate was reported to have figured it out decades ago. “I would never have suspected,” Hern mumbled. “I’ve known a few Hlaa. They’re all such old men.” He paused. “Clever old men, though,” he admitted with a smile. “I guess that’s why they make good spies.”
Hern met her eyes and held them. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
D’Naa flushed. “I’m not a spy,” she said.
“Sneaking into my rooms? Planning to steal an Aether Bud?”
“That may be what I’ve ended up doing,” D’Naa said, “but it wasn’t my original intention in coming.”
Hern paused. “That’s right,” he said. “You came to marry me.”
D’Naa snorted quietly. “If you want to know the truth, Hern,” she said, “I never had any desire to marry you.”
Hern raised an eyebrow, a bit of surprise in his eyes.
“I came in behalf of Kavir,” D’Naa explained. “No other reason. To be honest, the thought of marrying an Aedin has always made me feel a little bit sick to my stomach. However, Kavir couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gain the Emperor’s ear—even with our Aether bonds, we’re in disparate need of defense against the Harrmen. Now that you’ve promised troops to me once the current troubles are over, I don’t see any reason at all to marry you.”
Rather than getting annoyed, Hern smiled. “That’s actually rather refreshing to know,” he said, turning away from her, staring up at the ceiling. “The other brides are systematically coming up with ways to force me to make a decision. Nahan’s been telling everyone she slept with me, and will be stoned if I tell the truth. However, Tae claims she’ll turn herself into a Corpate out of shame if I decide to marry Nahan. On top of that, the Khur government informs me that they’ll cede from the Imperium if I don’t choose their bride as recompense for ‘sullying’ her when we rescued you all on Saedin. It’s all enough to make me look forward to the battles—at least I can fight back against the Forgotten.”
D’Naa felt a tiny sting of jealousy as Hern spoke, one she barely acknowledged to herself. She hadn’t realized the lengths the other brides were going to—she could see from Hern’s eyes the pressure he was feeling from it all. The more she was learning about Hern the man, the more she was realizing she might actually have a chance at becoming his bride. But, the other brides would take care to make certain that never happened.
You could always promise not to tell the Imperium about the secret of the Aether Bonds if he agreed to chose you. . . . a quiet voice in the back of her mind pointed out.
She paused, but then clinched her teeth and discarded the notion. She had always despised the Aedin because of their games—she would not lower herself to such a level.
“I’m…sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize the position you were in.”
Hern shrugged. “Next to the Forgotten threat, my marital problems are hardly relevant. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky and a Forgotten will kill me before I have to choose one of them.” He turned toward her, grimacing slightly as he forced his body to move. “I’m sorry,” he
said, “I haven’t been much of a host, have I? Do you want me to send one of my servants for some tea or something?”
“Wouldn’t that be suspicious?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “If you ask for two cups of tea, they’ll probably figure out that you have a visitor….”
Hern grimaced again, this time not from the pain. “Good point. There are enough rumors about me already. You probably shouldn’t even be here.”
D’Naa snorted, tipping her head up. “Nahan got to visit you in your quarters. That gives her an unfair advantage—my being here only evens the competition.”
Hern smirked wryly. “I thought you didn’t want to marry me,” he pointed out.
“I don’t,” D’Naa said firmly. “But I expect equal treatment nonetheless.”
Hern laughed, climbing to his feet with some small effort. “Well, if you don’t mind drinking something a little bit old, I think there’s a half-pot of tea from this morning in the other room. I could warm it up on one of the brazier.”
“That would be nice,” D’Naa replied, remaining seated as Hern wandered into his bed chamber, then returned with a several cups and a iron kettle. He placed the kettle on the brazier, then searched out a rag to wash the cups.
D’Naa sat through the process with mild amusement. Lord Hern, High Aedin Emperor of the entire Imperium, was fixing tea for her.
“So,” he said as he stood beside the small coal Brazier, wiping out one of the cups, “your people have been fighting the Harrmen? I thought our troops had their raids under control.”
“We’ve been fighting them for over fifty years now,” D’Naa said quietly. “I don’t know why they didn’t come for us earlier. The northern border is extremely well-defended, but all we have are sheep. It’s a little harder to get to us, but probably worth the effort.”
“Hum,” Hern said, checking the tea. “Do they do much damage?”
D’Naa didn’t respond immediately. “They killed my parents,” she finally said.
Hern froze, one hand holding a cup, the other tipping the kettle to the side.
“They don’t usually burn villages anymore,” D’Naa continued quietly. “Now they just take our flocks, kill those they run across. Sometimes they take women instead of murdering them.”
“By the twins,” Hern whispered, setting the kettle back down. “And this has been going on for fifty years? Lady D’Naa, I’m sorry.”
D’Naa shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she mumbled. Then, she blinked, amazed at her own words. It’s not your fault. All of her life she’d blamed the Aedin for the deaths of her parents—they were the ones who claimed that it was their ‘duty’ to protect the people of the Imperium. And yet, was there anything Hern could have done to save her parents?
It was growing increasingly hard to maintain her biases. Hern was just the latest example of things she’d been discovering during Senate meetings and social gatherings. Many of the things she’d assumed about the High Aedin were true—they were a little bit haughty, for instance. However, none of it was malicious. The more time she spent in Vae Annitor, the more she realized that if the High Aedin were guilty of anything, it was innocence. They just didn’t take threats seriously. Their Aethers were so powerful that they assumed they could stand against anything. They thought the squadrons they had stationed in Kavir could easily deal with a few barbarian tribes. They hadn’t even taken the Forgotten invasion very seriously until it breached their own borders.
The Aedin weren’t evil, or even callous. They were just ignorant. For the first time in her life, D’Naa let her frustrations begin to melt away. “I forgive you,” she whispered.
“What was that?” Hern asked, pouring her a cup of tea, his eyes clouded with consternation.
“Nothing,” D’Naa replied. She could see concern on his face—he really did care about her loss. Maybe now that his people had realized the Aethers’ limitations, they would be more likely to help Kavir. It was too bad the disillusionment had to come at such a price. “Really,” D’Naa continued, accepting the tea. “They’ve been dead a long, long time. I barely even remember them anymore. I was raised with my cousin and his family.”
“The King?” Hern asked, pouring himself a cup.
D’Naa nodded.
“I hear good things of Ala’D,” Hern said, seating himself. “I’ll hold to my promise, Lady D’Naa. You’ll have your troops. Assuming, of course, there are any left.” He paused, letting the ominous comment hang in the air, before continuing with a speculative look on his face. “You know, maybe you can help us. Fifty years of raiding, you say?”
D’Naa nodded, sipping her tea. It was, of course, Shorriken root tea, which was far too bitter to compare with Kavir blends. The night was cold, however, and so she sipped at it thankfully.
Hern sipped at his own tea thoughtfully. “How have you dealt with it?” he asked. “How do you stand against an enemy you can’t beat? The Aedin have never encountered something like these Forgotten before.”
“Well,” D’Naa said thoughtfully, “first we learned how to recover after a raid. That was actually my job. The King would send me to a village after it was attacked, to take an assessment of what it needed and to show the people how to cope.”
Raeth frowned wryly. “Somehow, I think rebuilding the entire Imperium would be something of a larger task.”
“Agreed,” D’Naa said, forcing herself to think. What did they do? “We trained our farmers how to defend themselves,” she finally said. “Kavir doesn’t have much of a military—that’s why we keep asking for more troops—but we figured if we could teach the men to defend themselves, they might be able to survive long enough during a raid to protect their families.”
Raeth shook his head. “Can’t do that either,” he mumbled. “If we could conscript, we’d have done it already. The Senate is forbidden from forcing anyone into military service. Besides, the dark warriors are moving too quickly. We don’t have time to train, or even enlist, beyond what we’ve done already. Anyone with any sort of battle experience is already fighting.”
“Well,” D’Naa said. “Besides begging for help from the Senate, you know the only other thing we did. We realized we couldn’t defeat the Harrmen like we were, so we went looking for other options. Something already proven to defeat our enemy.”
“The Aethers,” Hern surmised.
D’Naa nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said, shrugging. “I can’t be of much help. The Harrmen are different from these creatures—at least our foes bleed.”
“Thank you anyway,” Hern said, finishing off his tea.
“I’m surprised you haven’t come up with anything,” D’Naa said, setting aside her cup. “You’re the Aedin—you’re supposed to be the experts on magic.”
“Unfortunately, our foes are spiritual, not magical,” Hern mumbled, obviously still considering what she’d said before.
D’Naa shrugged. “I guess that depends on how you look at it.”
Hern looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“To you they might be spiritual,” D’Naa explained, “but I don’t believe in your Ancestors. Forgotten, Aethers, Sending…it’s all the same to me.”
Hern sat quietly for a moment, whispering her comment to himself, frowning slightly. Then, his head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock.
“Emperor Hern?” D’Naa asked uncomfortably.
“By the Twins!” Hern said, standing up abruptly, still staring ahead of him. “That’s it! Lady D’Naa, if you’ll excuse me, I have something I need to investigate.”
“Tonight?” D’Naa asked. “Do you have any idea how late it is?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Hern said, throwing on his red Aedin cloak and striding toward the door.
“Wait,” D’Naa said, standing. “I want to know what it is you thought of. I… .” want to go with you, wherever you’re going. But I can’t. I can’t be seen with him.
“I can’t explain it now,” Hern said, hand on the door. “Le
t me look into it first.”
“Then you’ll tell me?” she pressed.
Hern paused, then smiled, meeting her eyes. “Tomorrow night? Same time?”
D’Naa smiled back. “I’ll let myself in.”
#
Darro woke to a merciless pounding in his mind. He groaned, rolling over in his bed. How much did I drink last night… ? he thought with amazement as the throbbing continued. As the fuzz left his mind, however, he realized two things. First, he hadn’t gone drinking the night before, and second, the pounding wasn’t coming from inside his head. It was coming from someplace outside his bedchambers.
He groaned, tumbling out of bed and stumbling through his quarters toward the front door. Twins! He thought with annoyance. Whoever this is, they’d better have some important news. His body ached from the day’s fighting, his bandaged arm worst of all. Finally, he reached the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.
“Darro!” Raeth said eagerly, looking disgustingly perky. “I think I just figured out something very important. Come on!”
Darro slammed the door. He groaned softly to himself, then began to stumble back toward his bed chamber. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten to lock the door, so a light burst into the room a second later as Raeth pushed it open.
“Darro, this is important!” he exclaimed.
“So’s sleep,” Darro grunted.
“I’m serious,” Raeth said, even-tempered, as always. Even during his years in the Irae, time Darro knew his brother had loathed, Raeth had always acted like the perfect Aedin. Calm, dutiful, and understanding. It wouldn’t hurt the man to get grumpy once in a while, Darro thought. He sighed, turning and shielding his eyes against the hallway’s light.
“What is this about?” Darro asked.
“You’re sober, aren’t you?” Raeth asked, leaning forward.
“If I say no, will you leave me alone?” Darro asked hopefully. People always expected him to be drunk, even though he only went out about once a week on average. To proper High Aedin, that was irregular enough to make him a sot.
“Darro,” Raeth said, leaning in. “It’s an Aether.”
The Aether of Night Page 30