by John Marco
"I am glad the boy is all right," said Biagio. "That is good news."
"Well, he's not exactly perfect," Richius confessed. "He killed Leth with his bare hands. And then he found out you killed his grandfather before he could try to heal him."
"I had no choice," said Biagio, tossing his twig to the ground. "The old man was insane. He deserved to die."
"I don't doubt that," said Richius. "Still, your concern for Alazrian is surprising." He looked at the emperor sharply. "Isn't he just another of your pawns?"
"You wound me, Jackal. If you must know, I care about the boy. I intend to keep an eye on him."
"Why?"
Biagio's eyes flashed with familiar malevolence. "Because he just might be the most dangerous person in the world, that's why."
Richius nodded. "His magic."
"He will have to be watched, maybe even cultivated. He will be powerful. I do not need more challengers in the Empire."
"I won't let you harm him, Biagio," Richius warned. "And Alazrian has protection now from the Triin."
"Bah," scoffed Biagio with a dismissive wave. "I don't mean to harm him. He has done me a service, after all. But I will watch him, and I will watch his magic grow. You would be wise to do the same."
"You still haven't answered my question, Emperor. Will you let me rule Aramoor?"
"We struck a bargain a long time ago, Jackal. Do you remember?"
Richius remembered perfectly. "Yes. You stay out of my affairs, and I'll stay out of yours."
"Just so."
"Well, I think I can live with that," said Richius. He couldn't help but smile. Biagio looked like a little boy, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. "Is that it, then?" Richius asked. "Is that all you came for?"
"That and to see Alazrian. And, if I must admit it, to say thank you."
"That's a word I didn't expect from you."
"Spare me your sarcasm, Jackal. Now tell me, what of your wife and daughter?"
"What about them?"
"Are they well?"
"They are. I've already sent for them."
"Wonderful! Then perhaps I will see them again. I've been travelling far too long, and I was hoping you could put me up at your home for a spell."
"My home? You want to live with me?"
"For a while, yes," said Biagio. "If it's not too much trouble. I'd like a nice long rest before heading back to Nar. There's bloody work needed in the capital, and I want to be prepared."
Richius could barely believe it. He stared at Biagio, dumbfounded by his conversion.
"Lord Emperor," he said, "you have certainly changed."
Epilogue
Alazrian knelt at the edge of the pond, staring at his watery reflection. He had laid aside his fishing pole because he hadn't caught a single trout, and because he was fascinated by the face looking back at him. A small distance away, Praxtin-Tar was kneeling near a tree, facing far-off Falindar and praying softly. The warlord prayed four times a day, and his time in Talistan hadn't eroded his devotion.
Since returning to Talistan a month ago, Alazrian and Praxtin-Tar had learned much about each other. Like Alazrian, Praxtin-Tar was alone now, for Crinion and the other warriors had returned to Lucel-Lor. Even Rook had been freed and had been given a horse to ride south, far from his vicious master. Now Praxtin-Tar was in self-imposed exile, left to explore the strange Empire and to protect his charge, the newly named regent of Talistan. Curiously, Alazrian had grown to like Praxtin-Tar, and Praxtin-Tar himself had slowly begun to thaw. Also, Alazrian was learning the Triin language. His frequent bondings with the warlord had allowed him to absorb more than just thoughts--he had knowledge now, and was soaking it up at a furious rate. No longer did he need to touch Praxtin-Tar to hold a conversation. Alazrian's powers were expanding, and he knew it. Were it not such a beautiful day, he might even have been alarmed.
But Alazrian was in too good a mood to worry. Biagio had declared him regent, and though the emperor himself had declined to come to Talistan, he had promised Alazrian assistance. For now, that satisfied Alazrian. He was content to have Biagio's threatening shadow as a tool, and the fear of it had kept Talistan together. So far, no one had opposed his ascension as regent, and he doubted anyone would.
Praxtin-Tar finished his prayers and went to Alazrian, regarding him inquisitively.
"What are you doing?" he asked in Triin.
"Looking at my reflection." Alazrian smiled. "I think I look more Triin as I get older. Do you think so?"
"I have not known you long."
"No," said Alazrian. "But I am Triin, aren't I?"
"At least half so, yes."
"Praxtin-Tar?"
"Yes?"
"Are you happy here? I mean, are you finding what you're looking for?"
The question vexed the warlord. He said with a sigh, "Why do you ask such things? You are impertinent."
Alazrian glanced up from the pond. "Dyana Vantran told me that I may not have any answers until I'm older. She told me that I shouldn't question my powers, but that I should accept them and wait for life to tell me my purpose."
"Kalak's wife is a wise woman."
"And you? When will you have your answers, do you think?"
The warlord's face stirred with a smile. "I am here because I am waiting for you to find your answers," he said. "Then, perhaps, I will have my own."
"That was very evasive, Praxtin-Tar," joked Alazrian. "And not very helpful."
He gazed back down at his fair-haired reflection. Once, he had made a promise to his mother, to discover the purpose of his strange gifts. So far, he had no answers. But he was still young, and Dyana Vantran's advice seemed sound. Someday, he was sure, he would learn the truth.
Until then, he would enjoy the journey.
THE END
Table of Contents
Part One
Part Two SAINTS AND SINNERS
Part ThreeTHE LAST WAR
Table of Contents
Part One
Part Two SAINTS AND SINNERS
Part ThreeTHE LAST WAR