by John Marco
He stopped walking.
They were on the edge of the parade ground, still a good distance from the barracks and other structures. He let his hand slip out of Jelena's. It was very quiet. The noise from the workers had fallen off behind them. In the west the sun was going down, lighting the sky with a violet afterglow.
"He was a monster," Kasrin whispered. Suddenly his imagination filled the parade ground with young Lissens, their faces golden and earnest. He imagined them drilling with weapons and marching in formation. And he remembered how Nicabar's eyes had widened at the thought of murdering them.
"Kasrin?" Jelena cocked her head, regarding him strangely. "What did you say?"
"Just thinking," replied Kasrin absently. He began walking in a slow circle, looking all around the deserted grounds. "This is where they trained, right? For the strike on Crote, I mean?"
"That's right."
"How many men were there?"
"Men and women," corrected the queen. Then she shrugged, saying, "Or boys and girls. I don't really remember how many. Hundreds."
"Hundreds," echoed Kasrin in a whisper. He could picture them all. They were young, just like Jelena--and Nicabar had wanted to kill them. Very slowly, he felt the guilt easing. "Were they afraid? They must have been."
"They were afraid," replied Jelena. For some reason, she seemed uncomfortable with his questions. "But they had Lord Jackal for support."
"Lord Jackal? Is that what they called Vantran?"
"The Jackal of Nar is a hero here, Captain. Those who came to Karalon to serve with him did so voluntarily. It was their honor."
"Back in Nar, they don't think of Vantran as a hero, believe me."
"I believe you," said Jelena. "But here in Liss, Richius Vantran is revered. He defied your emperor, Arkus. He fought the Narens, just as we do. And he led us to victory on Crote. If you're going to speak against him, please do it when I am elsewhere."
Once again, Kasrin heard the unmistakable affection in her voice. What were her feelings for Vantran? he wondered.
"You speak fondly of him," he said. "He was special to you?"
"Of course. As I said, he is a hero to us."
"No, that's not what I mean." Kasrin slid a little closer to her. "I'm asking if he was special to you."
The Lissen queen colored, and her gaze dropped to the ground. "I thought he was," she answered softly. "But I was very young."
"You're still young."
"Younger, then. I hadn't been queen very long at the time, and Richius was a young king. I wanted him to teach me things. I . . ." She hesitated. "I admired him."
Kasrin tried to hide his jealousy. Admired. What a horribly safe word to use.
"Vantran is a Naren," he said. "I'm surprised you admired a Naren."
"He was different," said Jelena. "He wasn't like other Narens at all."
"Different?" Kasrin moved another inch closer. Not so long ago, Jelena had used the same word about him. And Jelena seemed to recall her statement, too. Her breath caught in her throat, making her lips tremble. They looked at each other. When she spoke, her voice was as soft as a rose petal.
"I came because I wanted to see you," she confessed. "I waited for you to come to me, but you never did."
Kasrin closed the distance between them so that their bodies nearly touched. "I'm no hero," he said softly, "but I am Naren." He brought up a hand, slowly, and touched her cheek. Jelena froze.
"Kasrin . . ."
"Blair," he said softly. "That's my name."
"Not here. Others may see us."
"I don't care," said Kasrin. "You took my hand, remember? My crew already saw you." Carefully, he slid his hand down and took hers again, giving it a squeeze. "You can't hate all Narens, Jelena. I know that now."
Jelena did not pull away. "Not all . . . Blair."
Kasrin was entranced with her. He had been since the moment he'd seen her glide across that Cretan beach. Eyes of a little girl set with a Naren lord's ferocity. Jelena didn't need the Jackal to make her strong. She didn't need anyone.
"Tell me truly," he said, "before I make a fool of myself. I'm not seeing hatred in your eyes, am I?"
"No," replied the queen.
"Affection, then? Something to start with?"
This question was more difficult for her, and she moved away from him, turning and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. There was no breeze to chill her, yet she seemed to shiver.
"When I saw the Dread Sovereign from the canyon, I thought you were dead. I ran down the slope, desperate to find you. I was more afraid for you than for myself, or for any of my people."
Kasrin drifted closer, standing behind her. "When you pulled me ashore, and I looked into your face . . ."
"Yes? "she asked.
"Thank you for all your help," he said. "None of this would be happening without you, I know that."
She turned and looked at him. "Tonight you rest. Tomorrow we work." She managed a smile. "You're on a deadline, after all."
"No, I don't want to go," he confessed. "Not now. Not after this."
Jelena put a finger to his lips. "We made a promise to Biagio."
"We?" asked Kasrin. "It's my promise, Jelena. Your part in this is done."
But Jelena didn't answer. She merely took his hand and led him toward the buildings. They didn't go to the barracks that Kasrin shared with his crew, but to the private rooms of the queen of Liss.
THIRTY-THREE
Barnabin remained in Elkhorn Castle for two days, then left Biagio alone in Prince Redburn's home.
Barnabin had been a good and faithful servant, just as Malthrak had claimed, and Biagio had appreciated the man's service. Before his leaving, the emperor paid Barnabin a goodly sum and thanked him for his aid, telling him to contact Malthrak if he needed anything more.
"There will always be work for you in the Black City," Biagio had told Barnabin, because Prince Redburn didn't want the man in the Highlands anymore. According to the prince, Barnabin was a spy, and not welcome anywhere in his territory. It was a ruthless streak that Biagio hadn't expected from the young ruler, but it wasn't impressive. It was petty and shortsighted, and that was all. So Biagio held his tongue, said farewell to the man who had taken him so far, then tried to settle into life among the Highlanders. For two more days after Barnabin's departure, Biagio argued with Redburn, pleading for his help. And for two more days, despite promises and threats, Redburn rebuffed the emperor. Now, on his fifth day in the castle, Biagio was becoming forlorn.
It was morning, and like every morning in Elkhorn Castle this one greeted Biagio with the squeals of children. He rose early, broke his fast with bread and jam that was laid on a tray outside his door, then immediately dressed. Because he had come to the castle with very little, Redburn's people had provided clothes for him; mostly uncomfortable tweeds that clashed with his coloring. He had also been given a new pair of boots--cow leather and very rigid, polished to a black sheen. Since he was emperor, there was plenty of hot water offered him, and Biagio bathed often. Breena had even given him some bath salts. They weren't the expensive oils he was accustomed to, but they were a welcome treat in this rugged land, and Biagio had accepted them gratefully. So far, Breena had been Biagio's guide and go-between. It was she who always took him to Redburn, for her brother always needed convincing before agreeing to an audience with Biagio. He had claimed that Biagio never had anything new to say.
Sadly, he was right.
But today Biagio didn't feel like arguing. He wanted solitude, and he knew that Redburn, likewise, needed to be alone, to have time to think on what had been said. Biagio was an expert on reading people, and he had studied the prince's body language carefully. Redburn was weakening. He wanted peace, but he knew in his heart that war was coming. Right now he was considering ways to avoid it. He was getting desperate. Soon, he would come to the conclusion that a fight with Talistan was inevitable.
Sunlight poured through Biagio's window, filling the day with promise.
Life in Elkhorn Castle was nothing like his gilded existence in the Black Palace. Back home in Nar, there were no screaming children always getting underfoot. And there were no boisterous beer gatherings either, full of laughter. In Nar, the air was laced with smoke and acrid steam from the war labs, but here in the Highlands they knew nothing of such poisons. The air was perfect here, like the breath of God. Cool, too; not like Crote at all. It was all so frustratingly different, and Biagio was having trouble adjusting.
"No children today," he mused as he checked his reflection in a mirror. "No noise, no stares, and best of all, no Redburn."
It would be nice not seeing the prince today. Biagio straightened his shirt, scratching a bit at the irritating fabric, then smoothed down his hair. Several baths and Breena's bath salts had returned it to its natural luster. He was still a monarch, he told himself confidently. He was emperor.
A few minutes later, Biagio left his chamber and went quietly through the halls, hoping to go unnoticed. Quickly he found his way to the main hall of the castle, a somewhat squalid, barrel-roofed chamber decorated with tapestries. These he ignored, making a beeline for the main gates. Out in the courtyard, he discovered the perfect day hinted at by his window. The sun was strong, wonderfully bright, and Biagio put his face to it, enjoying its touch. Though he had given up the drug that turned his blood to ice water, its effects still lingered and he still had an aversion to the cold. There were dogs in the court, as usual, and more of the clan's ubiquitous children, who pointed at him. Biagio looked around the courtyard briefly, satisfied that Redburn was absent, then headed for the stables. He hoped to find a horse and do some riding, for he was stiff from sitting around his rooms and craved the openness of green hills. The stables, he had discovered earlier, were on the western side of the castle, separated from the main house by a pasture and a short wall of hand-laid stones. It had a rustic feel that matched the rest of the castle. As Biagio approached, he was glad that he'd worn his boots, for it had rained the night before and the pasture was filled with mud. A trio of stable hands watched him as he approached. One had a feed bag in his hands and was fixing it around the snout of a horse. The other two were each grooming elk. The antlered beasts towered over them. Biagio slowed a bit, put off by their presence. According to Breena, the horses and elk were usually kept separate. He hadn't expected to encounter any of the creatures.
"Good morning," called the young man feeding the horse. "Can I help you with something, my lord?"
Biagio gestured to the horse. "I'm looking for a mount, to do some riding. I'll need it fully tacked, of course, and I don't have a saddle of my own."
The man blanched. "Uhm, you have permission to take a horse, my lord?"
"Permission? I don't need permission, young man. I am Lord Corigido. I'm a guest of Prince Redburn."
"Yes, my lord, I know," replied the man. "It's just that, well, the prince has told us not to let anyone ride off unattended. This trouble with Talistan, you see. If you could wait just a moment, I could go check with the prince. I'm sure--"
"Our guest will not be unattended," came a new voice. "I'll be riding with him."
Biagio turned to see Lady Breena approaching from his left. She had been hidden in one of the many stalls.
"I'm sorry, Lady Breena," apologized the hand. "I didn't know you'd be riding with him. You didn't mention that."
"Change of plans," replied the woman. "You can get back to work. I'll look after our guest."
The man nodded then led the horse away. When she was sure none of the servants would overhear, Breena said to Biagio, "I didn't expect to see you here. Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go riding?"
"Because I wanted to be alone. No offense, girl, but I had hoped not to see you or your brother this morning."
Breena was not offended. "Well, you'll need my permission to get a horse, and I was going riding anyway. You can come with me."
"Thank you, but no."
"Why not?" asked Breena. "Nervous?"
"Should I be?"
"I know these hills better than anyone. You might get lost if you go off on your own. Why not let me come with you?"
"You're very keen on guiding me, Lady Breena,"' observed Biagio. "Why?"
Breena merely grinned. "Come along," she said, turning back toward the stalls. Biagio hesitated. He did want to be alone, but there was something compelling about the Highland woman. She was bold and ruthlessly honest. And he didn't think she would take no for an answer, so he followed her into the stall, promptly coming face to face with a huge latapi.
"Oh, no," he said quickly. "We're riding horses, or not at all."
Breena patted the elk's stout neck. "Don't be afraid. He looks more frightening than he is."
"I doubt that," said Biagio dryly. The creature's antlers were wider than a man was tall, and its sloped back had been fitted with an odd-looking saddle, belted around its body with a stout leather strap. It had an off-white coat the color of dirty snow, and two moist brown eyes that regarded the emperor mistrustfully. "Lord, what a monster he is."
"They're more gentle than horses if you treat them right," said Breena. "They may look mean, but they're loyal and good company, too."
"Fine," said Biagio. "Then you and your friend have a nice time together."
He turned to go but Breena called after him. "Wait," she pleaded. "Why don't you try it before making up your mind so quickly?"
"I don't have to try it. I know I won't like it." He waved at her. "Goodbye."
"That figures," she muttered. "You imperial fops turn up your nose at everything."
Biagio paused in mid-step. Then he changed his mind and kept on walking, expecting to hear more slurs. When Breena was silent, he stopped again. Turning to look at her, he saw a hurt expression behind the smoldering anger. For some reason, it reeled him back.
"I will ride a horse and you will ride that creature. Good enough?"
"No," said Breena flatly. "You will ride with me, and I will teach you something about the Highlands."
Biagio sighed. "Can't I learn this lesson without climbing atop that monster?"
Breena beckoned him closer with a finger.
"God's death," said Biagio. "All right, then." Cautiously he went back to the stall avoiding the elk as best he could, and stood beside Breena. The young woman's mood changed entirely. She urged him closer, taking his arm.
"Just climb on his back the way you would a horse. I'll do everything else. You can ride a horse, can't you?"
"Of course I can!"
"Sorry," offered Breena. "You just look kind of soft. Never mind." She coaxed his foot into one of the elk's stirrups. Biagio shrugged her off. "I can do it," he snapped. The elk turned its head to look at him. Biagio gave it an uneasy smile. "Good boy," he said. "Just take it easy." He took hold of the cantle, made sure Breena had a grip on the reins, then hoisted himself into the saddle, eventually getting his leg over the elk's side. He sat up triumphantly, laughing down at Breena. "You see? Nothing to it!"
"Very good," said Breena. "Now sit back. I'll be in front.
"Put your arms around me," she said, as she climbed onto the mount. "Around you? Oh, no. That wouldn't be proper." "If you don't hold on you'll fall off and crack your skull." Biagio shook his head. What the hell was he doing up here? He put his arms around her reluctantly, doing his best to avoid her breasts, and held her tight. His nose touched her hair, and the scent wasn't unpleasant. She wore a perfume from the Black City. Biagio recognized it and knew it was expensive.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"I was going to inspect the Silverknife, the border with Talistan. But since you're with me . . ."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea," Biagio finished. "One of Gayle's men might recognize me, and that would be catastrophic." He looked around from his tall perch, sighting the green mountains to the west. "What about those hills?" he asked. "I was hoping to explore them."
"Ah, those are Morn's Twins," said Breena. "You see th
ose two big mountains? They are named after the children of a tribal sun god, very ancient. It's pretty there."
"Morn's Twins," said Biagio. "I like the sound of that. Take me there." "I'm not your driver," Breena shot back. "But all right." She gave the reins a snap, and suddenly the beast lurched forward, trotting out of its stall and letting Breena steer it toward the high hills in the east. Biagio held on, jostled by the rough ride. The latapi bounced violently beneath him, taking great bounds with each step. Soon they were in a bone-rattling gallop, leaving the castle and courtyard for the sun god's twins.
With his arms encircling the girl's waist, Biagio sat rigidly against her, gritting his teeth. Breena's long hair blew in the breeze tickling his face, but he didn't dare let go to swat the strands away. He was embarrassed and uncomfortable, and the young woman's boldness reminded him of his former wife, but there was something peculiar about the sensation, something free and youthful. As they rode on, crossing a grassy plain and leaving Elkhorn Castle behind, Biagio began to relax. He looked around, admiring the Highlands' majesty, and felt like a different person.
This is what I wanted, he realized.
With only Breena and the trees for company, he was no longer an emperor; he had no responsibilities. The crushing pressures of the last few months fell away with the elk's hoofprints. He tossed back his head and laughed.
Immediately, Breena brought the latapi to a halt. She looked over her shoulder in shock.
"Are you all right?"
"Of course I am," said Biagio indignantly. "Why did you stop? Ride, woman, ride!"
"You were laughing."
"I was happy for a moment."