When she neared where the procession was forming up, Mykella surveyed the first ranks. At the front of the funeral procession were three riderless horses, side by side, each led by a Southern Guard. One horse represented the rank-and-file guards lost, one the officers, and one Salyna. The saddle of each riderless horse was draped in the dark blue of the Southern Guards, with a black wreath across the front of the saddle. Behind the three horses rode the command staff, followed by Choalt and Areyst, and finally the Southern Guard companies that had fought at Viencet, company by company, beginning with First Company. All the officers and men wore the black-edged blue mourning sashes.
The funeral procession would be long because it was a memorial for all the fallen, and not just for Salyna. Each company would ride past the palace, their ensigns draped in black, and for every man who had fallen, there was a riderless horse in formation. Obtaining enough mounts had been a challenge, but Areyst had managed it, although many had been Northcoast and Midcoast mounts before the last battle.
Accompanied by Rachylana and her escorts, Mykella rode slowly to the end of the procession, a good vingt southwest of the Great Piers. There she reined up behind the remaining auxiliaries, led by Rachylana, and beside the black caisson and ceremonial casket containing the urn with Salyna’s ashes, a caisson pulled by four black horses. Behind the caisson were two Southern Guards and two auxiliaries.
As she looked at the caisson and casket, Mykella’s eyes burned, and she looked down for a moment, and swallowed. Then she straightened in the saddle and waited.
At the turn of the glass marking noon, a trumpet fanfare announced the beginning of the procession. Even so, it was a good half glass until the last company before Mykella and the auxiliaries began to move.
At that moment, she drew upon the darkness beneath Tempre and created a transparent pillar of pale greenish light that rose from her and one of deep and dark translucent green that rose from the coffin, twisting them together midway between her and the caisson and rising some ten yards into the sky before dissipating.
“Ohhh…”
Mykella had expected no less than an involuntary reaction from even the scattered bystanders south of the Great Piers.
Thousands of people lined the avenue, all the way from the Great Piers past the palace to the Southern Guard compound to the east. Despite the heat of midday, the area across from the palace and reviewing stand between the low wall that comprised the northern edge of the public gardens and the edge of the boulevard was packed so tightly that as Mykella neared the palace, she could not see how any of them could move.
When the crowd saw the pillar of light and darkness, the murmurs died away, and many bowed their heads. Others just gaped.
Mykella turned her eyes, but not her head, to observe the reviewing stand. Below Lord and Lady Gharyk, Khanasyl, and Lhanyr were the other Seltyrs and High Factors of Tempre and their wives, not all of them, but enough so that every space on the stand was taken and other Seltyrs and factors spread away from the stand on both sides.
Just before Mykella and the caisson neared the reviewing stand, Mykella drew more upon the lifeweb darkness beneath her and Tempre and intensified both light and greenish darkness around her and the coffin, enough, she hoped, to emphasize for those in the reviewing stand the link between her and her sister. As she had done at her father’s memorial parade, she projected respect and honor, but that honor was for Salyna and all the fallen Southern Guards.
She could hear the sobbing from all sides.
The procession continued to the Southern Guard compound, as did Mykella and the caisson, rather than ending at the palace, because Salyna would have wanted it that way, to be treated as a Guard officer and not as the Lady-Protector’s sister.
A good glass later, as Mykella, Areyst, and Rachylana rode back toward the palace with an honor guard—and the urn that held Salyna’s ashes, the remaining bystanders on the side of the avenue seemed to freeze as the riders passed them.
“Your procession silenced the entire city,” Areyst said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Some of the Seltyrs wept,” added Rachylana. “They never cry.”
“They should weep. They should weep in shame,” Mykella replied. “Too many of their golds were paid for in blood.”
“Would that more rulers understood that,” said Areyst quietly.
Mykella only nodded, thinking about the coming private memorial service for Salyna.
* * *
Less than a glass after returning to the palace, Mykella, Rachylana, and Areyst met Lord and Lady Gharyk, First Seltyr Khanasyl, and Chief Factor Lhanyr on the main floor of the otherwise deserted palace. From there, an honor guard of two auxiliaries and four Southern Guards escorted them through the plaza in front of the palace, then through the rear courtyard and the rear gate to the memorial garden around the private mausoleum—to the north and uphill from the regular palace gardens.
Once Rachylana carried the urn to the granite presentation table under the front arch of the mausoleum, and everyone had assembled facing the small outer rotunda, Mykella began the ceremony.
“We acknowledge that Captain Salyna, an officer of the Southern Guards and sister of the Lady-Protector of Lanachrona, has died. She died in defense of her land, her people, and her sister.” Mykella had to pause so that she did not choke up. “Her efforts helped save our land, and she gave unselfishly of herself when no one would have thought less of her for not doing so. She sacrificed the hope of a long and happy life for us. We are here to mourn her loss and offer our last formal farewell in celebration of her life.” With that, Mykella stepped back and nodded to Rachylana.
The redhead stepped forward, still wearing the uniform of the auxiliaries. She paused until there was absolute silence before the mausoleum.
“Our sister was the youngest daughter of the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona, but she was more than that. She was a woman who fought to prove that women could do all that men could, and she did so effectively and courageously. She began to change Lanachrona, and she gave her life to save me and my sister, the Lady-Protector. Like our father, she believed most deeply that the principal goal of the Protector of Lanachrona, and the Protector’s family as well, was to protect the people of Lanachrona. She drove herself harder than anyone could have believed in all her efforts, and set an example that any woman—or any man—would be hard-pressed to emulate. We will miss her, and so will Lanachrona.”
Tears streamed down Rachylana’s face, but her voice was steady and strong, and she did not lower her eyes when she finished.
After another silence, Areyst delivered the blessing. “For an honored and accomplished officer, in the name of the one and the wholeness that is, and always will be…”
Mykella listened intently, sensing the effort Areyst had to make to keep his voice firm.
When Areyst finished the blessing, the honor guard re-formed below the steps of the mausoleum to escort the small memorial party—just the seven of them—back to the palace.
Mykella did not wipe away the tears that flowed.
65
In the entry hallway of the palace in late afternoon, after the four others who had been at the memorial service had departed, Areyst looked to Rachylana for a moment, then to Mykella. “If you would have a moment later? I need to check with Commander Choalt.…”
“Please … I’ll be here. You can stay for dinner as well.”
“I would like that.” For a moment, his pale green eyes rested on her.
Mykella realized that not only was the green of his life-thread more pronounced, but so was the intensity of the green of his eyes … and those eyes held both love and respect.
“Don’t … be too long.”
“Only so long as it takes, my Lady.” He inclined his head, then straightened and smiled, before turning and leaving.
Mykella watched him go, then looked to her sister. “He wasn’t telling the truth … about Choalt.”
“No, he wasn’
t. That’s because he was trying to be tactful,” replied Rachylana.
“He thought we needed time together. Why didn’t he…” Mykella shook her head. “He knew he would have sounded arrogant by saying we needed time together without him. He was right, though.” She offered a rueful smile. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Rachylana nodded.
The two found their way up the staircase and to the family parlor. Mykella sat down in one of the armchairs, and Rachylana took the one across from her. Neither spoke for a time.
“Why did it have to end this way?” Mykella finally asked, adding, “For Salyna?”
“Because she was who she was, and you’re who you are, and because Father couldn’t bear the burdens of being Lord-Protector any longer.” Rachylana’s voice was soft, but not bitter.
“You two saved me. I couldn’t have held my shields any longer.”
“She saved me,” added the redhead. “She knew where to go and what to do. I just followed.”
“You did more than that.”
“At the end, I had to. She told me to find you.” Tears seeped from the corners of Rachylana’s eyes. “If I’d stayed…”
Would it have made any difference? Mykella wondered, but didn’t ask the question because she feared the answer.
“If I’d stayed, I couldn’t have saved her,” said Rachylana, “then … I would have lost you both.”
“Oh … Rachylana…” murmured Mykella. Her eyes burned once more, and tears she had already shed so many of that she wondered if she had any left to flow spilled onto her cheeks.
Again … neither spoke for a time.
Finally, Rachylana cleared her throat. “You were right about not having a victory parade.”
“I don’t know about that. I just know I couldn’t have done it. Maybe people needed a sign of victory … but with everything … and Salyna … I just couldn’t. I couldn’t.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“So am I.” Mykella paused. “Do you remember when she went hunting … and killed the boar with arrows when Jeraxylt couldn’t with his rifle…”
“… or when she took the duty guard’s mount and rode into the Preserve,” replied Rachylana. “She couldn’t have been over five…”
The two of them sat for close to a glass, sharing memories.
Then Rachylana stood. “Areyst should be here before long, and I do need to check on the auxiliaries.”
“To let them know you’re still available?”
“Something like that … and…”
Mykella understood the unspoken words.… and Salyna would have. She rose from the armchair. “I’ll walk down to the courtyard with you.”
“He’ll be down there by now, talking to the duty guards.”
“You think so?”
Rachylana raised a single eyebrow, that skill that Mykella had once derided even as she’d tried in vain to duplicate it. “You think not?”
Mykella laughed.
The two walked quickly, but not hurriedly, down the steps and back along the west corridor to the rear door. As Rachylana had predicted, Areyst was talking to the duty squad leader when the two sisters stepped out into the palace courtyard.
He turned. “Lady … Captain Rachylana.”
“I need to check on the auxiliaries,” said Rachylana. “Might I borrow your mount?”
“Of course.”
Rachylana glanced at Mykella. “I will be back in time for dinner.”
Mykella found herself smiling at the glint in her sister’s eyes. “We’ll wait for you.”
“You’d better.”
Mykella smiled at Areyst. “Commander … would you mind escorting me?”
“Not at all, Lady.’
Not only did Areyst open the door with his one good arm, but he offered it to Mykella, and they walked along the west corridor and back up the main staircase.
“Where are we going?” Areyst’s tone was amused.
“To the family parlor,” she replied.
“That sounds ominous,” he said gently.
“I have my reasons.” She kept her voice light.
“You always do, Lady.”
After they reached the upper level of the palace and entered the parlor, Mykella closed the door and turned to him. “You called me your lady…”
Areyst swallowed.
That was the first time, ever, she had seen—and sensed—his being less than perfectly poised. She also realized that she’d never … ever … risked telling him how she felt. She’d given signs but never said anything.
Slowly, she reached out and up … and let her fingers touch his cheek, drawing the deep darkness from deep beneath the palace and letting its chill enfold them both. When the chill receded, his skin was flaky, but the scars and scabs were gone.
His eyes widened.
“How is your arm?”
“The worst of the aching is gone.”
Tiny flashes of light filled Mykella’s eyes, and she dropped, rather than sat, into the nearest armchair.
Worry filled Areyst’s face as he stepped over and leaned down. “Are you all right?”
“I’m … not as recovered as I thought,” she admitted. “I wanted to do that earlier, but I knew I couldn’t.”
Areyst stepped back, then carried one of the straight-backed chairs over next to the armchair. He sat down and looked at her.
Mykella could sense that he was almost as exhausted as she was, and for several moments, they were silent.
“Using the darkness of the Ancients to heal … is tiring. I don’t think it would work for near-mortal injuries because it uses the body’s own strength.”
“You always surprise me,” he said.
“I hope … I always will.” She paused. “Do … you still want me to be your lady?”
The rush of hope, desire, and love that followed her words left her speechless, even though his words were simple. “I do.”
The embarrassed smile that followed was almost painful to her, and she leaned forward before he could say more. “I so hoped you would.” She swallowed and held up her hand so that he would not speak. “When I thought you had died in the battle … my heart almost stopped. Rachylana could tell you…”
His good hand reached out and touched her hair, then traced the line of her cheek before dropping to take her right hand. “I thought I saw … I didn’t know, but I worried so.” He shook his head. “I kept thinking it was foolish of me to hope, but from the day you stood up to me after commandeering an entire squad, I kept looking at you. I hoped you didn’t notice.”
“Yet you hoped I would,” she said, not quite teasingly.
“I did.”
“Rachylana won’t be back for a while…” Mykella smiled gently and took his hand in hers. “Tell me more, dearest.”
EPILOGUE
At ninth glass on Octdi, at the end of the first week of Harvest, Mykella stood in her study, looking at those seated around the conference table—her ministers, including Areyst, who wore a lighter splint around his right arm, and First Seltyr Khanasyl and Chief High Factor Lhanyr. Loryalt appeared worried, as did Zylander, while Gharyk’s lips occasionally curled into a faint smile. Behind Areyst’s professional smile lurked greater amusement. Khanasyl and Lhanyr radiated puzzlement, clearly wondering why they had been summoned.
“Now that the envoys from both Northcoast and Midcoast have arrived,” Mykella began, “we will receive them in the lower reception chamber shortly. They will protest, because they have been instructed to do so, but each will present a signed agreement of surrender and formally turn over the sum of the settlement agreement required, in gold. We already have received the golds, but a formal ceremony is required, and that ceremony will be witnessed not only by the ministers and Arms-Commander of Lanachrona, but also by you, First Seltyr, as representative of the Seltyrs, and by you, Chief High Factor, as the representative of the High Factors. I am charging you both with the duty and responsibility of conveying the facts and terms
of the agreements to all Seltyrs and factors.”
“Might I ask again why there was no celebration of our victory?” asked Khanasyl.
“We prevailed and, against far greater numbers, destroyed the power of both Midcoast and Northcoast. Given that our triumph, if one could call it that, cost us close to half the Southern Guards and annihilated close to nine out of ten armsmen of our enemies, I did not feel that such a result merited any public celebration. Given that it occurred because of the failures of my predecessors and yours, for us to celebrate would have been arrogant and self-deluding. We have much work still ahead to rebuild Lanachrona. That work is proceeding, and I do appreciate greatly the current cooperation of both Seltyrs and factors … but a celebration of escape from such disaster would seem … shall we say … presumptuous.” Mykella smiled politely. “Do you think it otherwise, First Seltyr?”
“I would call it … traditional.”
“You might indeed, and tradition is often appropriate. When the cost to a land is so high, and so many still mourn, tradition merely for the sake of tradition is inappropriate. We can and will celebrate when we have returned Lanachrona to its former greatness.”
The First Seltyr nodded, as did the Chief High Factor.
Mykella could sense that Khanasyl actually agreed, and that he had raised the question to receive an answer he could give to others. That was encouraging, because it reflected an acceptance of her position as Protector, not merely her power. Except power created that acceptance. “After we receive the envoys from Midcoast and Northcoast, we will all assemble back here to discuss other matters.”
Khanasyl frowned. “Might we ask—”
“You may, but the nature of those matters will wait until after we deal with the envoys.” Mykella smiled warmly and cheerfully, projecting good humor. “If you will all take your places below, I will join you shortly, then the envoys will be ushered in, one at a time.”
After the six had left the study, Mykella walked over to the open windows and looked out across the plaza courtyard toward the gardens across the avenue. Most of the trees had recovered from the damage of the spring storms. As Lanachrona will recover.
Lady-Protector Page 49