The man caught the strike on his blade with a firmness that sent vibrations rippling through Talamir's fingers. He withdrew, then sliced in again, whirling to face his second opponent.
The first recoiled, barely rescuing his chest from a fatal tear. The second sprang in as Talamir cut for him. He managed an awkward riposte that spared his life but opened his defenses. Talamir jabbed for the kill.
Something slammed into Talamir's legs, sprawling him. The Renshai madness caught him then. "Modi!" he swore, twisting like a wisule to face this new threat. The Shadow Leader clutched his ankles in a death grip, and a dagger in his fist jumped for Talamir.
"No!" The Renshai kicked and rolled. A sword swept toward his face, and he met the attack with his own blade, surging free. He saw movement overhead. At the same time, the two remaining elite guards sprang as one.
"Modi!"Talamir shouted, this time in wild abandon. He was going to die, but he would do so bravely, as a Renshai man. He redirected the first stroke, wove under the second. Something pricked his hip, even as he raised his sword to impale the figure flying toward him from the chandelier. The king! he realized suddenly. Subikahn's father.
The tear in Talamir's hip burned, a shocking agony for a Renshai immersed in battle, a Renshai whose battle rage should have driven him past all pain. He could feel its every motion through his veins, tearing, blazing, coursing through his body. "Poison," he gasped out, staggering. His blade missed its mark. Tae landed on him with enough force to bear him to the ground.
Still Talamir fought, writhing and kicking, spewing out words that ceased to make sense, even to himself. Someone jerked the sword from his hand. He lunged after it, howling like a beast. His thoughts swirled, wildly unfocused, and he groped for them with the same intensity with which he would wield his sword. "No! No! No!" He had to die with it in his hands. Die with it to go to Valhalla. And take the lying bastard who stooped to poison with him.
Oblivious to Tae expertly securing his limbs, sparing no attention for the two armed men trying to pin him with threats that no longer mattered, Talamir turned his gaze directly and accusingly on the smallest of the elite guardsmen. "You coward." He spat out the worst insult in the Renshai vernacular. "You filthy, shit-stinking coward."
Then, darkness descended on Talamir, and he knew no more.
Saviar Ra-khirsson slipped quietly into the Bearnian guest quarters he shared with his father and grandfather, undressed in the dark, and crawled into bed. The sheets felt lavishly soft, silky, and cold against his flesh; and he detected a hint of lavender amidst the sword oil, leather, and horse dander smells that defined the Knights of Erythane. Saviar felt himself drifting almost immediately; exhaustion from a grueling practice, combined with the plushness of his bed, dragged him rapidly toward sleep.
Kedrin's voice jarred abruptly through Saviar's muddling thoughts. "Savi?"
"Mmmm?" Saviar returned, unwilling to abandon the welcome comfort of drowsiness. If he focused too hard on his grandfather, he might come fully awake and have difficulty relocating this fine and comfortable place.
"They've called a special Council meeting for the morning. A Nordmirian ship docked this evening."
That fully roused Saviar. He propped himself onto an elbow, though he could barely discern Ra-khir's and Kedrin's beds through the darkness. Ra-khir slept between them. "A Nordmirian ship?" The Northlands consisted of a vast, frozen territory supporting several tribes who seemed constantly at war with one another. Aside from traders, they interacted rarely with the West. They also held a deep-rooted and deftly taught hatred for the Renshai tribe, once a part of them. Saviar could not keep suspicion from his tone. "Why?"
"We'll find out tomorrow." Kedrin peered across Ra-khir. "If I had to guess, I would venture it had something to do with ore."
"Ore?" Still leaning on his elbow, Saviar crinkled his forehead, though Kedrin could not see his confusion through the darkness. The chill of the sheets gave way to the trapped warmth of Saviar's body.
"Iron ore," Kedrin explained. "The West's great mines are nearly tapped out. The East has never been a good source, but the North has the most productive mines in the world."
"Really?" Saviar wondered how he had gone through his entire childhood obsessed with steel and yet had never known this fact. It's because Renshai care only about ability and maneuvers.When they need supplies, they buy or, in the past, take them. In that context, it made sense that the Renshai would pay little attention to such details. They also knew nothing about hunting or fishing, about clothing or adornments.
"Really, Saviar. And I thought you might want to attend the Council meeting."
Ra-khir stiffened suddenly, apparently jarred awake. He stretched beneath his covers, politely quiet.
"Really?" This time, the word emerged as a squeak. Saviar could scarcely believe the invitation. At only eighteen, he might become a part of kingdom politics, of an affair with vast significance.
Apparently misinterpreting Saviar's question, Kedrin added, "All right, I admit it. They're dead boring. But I thought someone who had never seen the Council Room might find even the regular goings-on of some interest. Also, I know you've never met a live Northman. I've always felt it better to form opinions based on reality rather than stereotypes and stories."
Saviar understood the underlying point. His mother held an entrenched disdain for all things Northern and tended to voice her opinion at any opportunity. Usually, Renshai remained aloof from discussions of their Northern cousins; but there was clearly no love lost and some actual hatred on their side as well. "I'd like to come, Grandpapa. Thank you for inviting me."
"You're welcome," Kedrin said sincerely, settling back beneath his covers. "Dress appropriately, and I will expect you to remain a silent observer."
The mere thought of speaking out in front of diplomats and royalty made Saviar quail. "Silent, of course. I would very much prefer it." He rolled to his side, prepared to fall asleep. Before he had a chance to settle in, however, Ra-khir finally spoke.
"Pardon me for overhearing the end of your conversation, Father, but did you just invite Saviar to the Council meeting?"
Kedrin sat up. "Indeed I did. Is that a problem?"
Saviar closed his eyes. He seemed to be the cause of a lot of friction between his father and grandfather these days. Nothing he could say would seem anything but rude, so he remained utterly silent and chased sleep.
"Not per se." Ra-khir's tone remained neutral, with just an edge of discomfort. He did not seem angry. "I think everyone should have an idea of how a kingdom operates, and Saviar is lucky to have some of the same opportunities I did to learn. However, under the circumstances…"
Saviar assumed his own curiosity seemed to lengthen Ra-khir's pause until Kedrin spoke to fill the gap.
"Yes, Ra-khir? What about the current circumstances bothers you?"
"It's just that Thialnir arrived last night." Ra-khir referred to the Renshai's representative at the conference table. "A Nordmirian captain and a hardheaded Renshai in the same small room? Why not just hand my son a burning brand to snuff in a barrel of oil? The king's guards will have enough to worry about without an extra Renshai."
Kedrin sounded affronted. "My grandson wouldn't engage in any violence that might endanger the high king."
"Your grandson," Ra-khir replied stiffly, "is Renshai."
Saviar was speaking before he could stop himself, "His grandson is in the damned room!"
Both men fell silent and turned toward the boy.
"First, I'm highly offended that you think because I'm Renshai I can't control myself."
Ra-khir recoiled, his tone turning defensive. "That's not what I meant, Savi."
Saviar continued, "I can't say for sure how I'll react in a situation I've never been in before." He sat up, now fully awake. "I certainly hope I would never engage in any behavior that might put King Griff in danger. But you're right about one thing." Saviar made a vague gesture toward Ra-khir in acknowledgment. "Regardless
of what I would or wouldn't do, having a second Renshai in the room will alarm the guards and make their job harder. I don't want to be responsible for that."
Kedrin's voice seemed soft in comparison. "A good point well made. I concur and surrender to you both." He addressed Saviar directly. "Perhaps another time?"
Saviar liked that his grandfather could admit defeat with extraordinary grace. It was an important lesson his torke would never teach him. "I would like that very much, Grandpapa. One day very soon, it will happen."
Talamir awakened to a deep inner pain that seemed to stretch through his skin, and a throbbing headache. He rolled to his stomach. The biting cold of this new portion of the stone floor seeped through him. An odd, bitter taste filled his mouth. He forced himself to hands and knees, the movement telling him two things. First, he was unarmed; and, second, he had to vomit. He did so in a mu cousy pile, then recoiled from it, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve.
"You're up," a voice purred behind him.
Talamir whirled with a speed that stole his balance and sent him retching again. He vomited for a long time, unable to gain control of his heaving gut until well after the last watery contents of his stomach trickled onto the floor. Two more things entered his consciousness in that time: he lay in a barred cell, and the man who had addressed him was the same one who had whispered to him in the court. Again, the Shadow Leader wore the black swirl of garments, silver around his covered face.
Talamir wanted to turn his back but worried about his self-control and balance. "You poisoned me, you ignoble bastard. You poisoned me."
"I didn't poison you."
The composure of the response incited Talamir. "You did! You poisoned me."
"If I poisoned you, you would be dead."
Talamir sank to the floor again, taking care to miss the disgorged contents of his stomach. He clamped his hands to his head. "I wish I were dead."
"If you really mean it, Talamir, that can be arranged. You are under order of execution."
The words only angered the Renshai. At least, if the poison had finished him, he might have died in battle. He had had a chance to find Valhalla. Now, he would die a craven, a coward executed by a king who claimed to love his son but had chosen to torture him in the worst possible way. "You should have killed me in the courtroom. I could have died a-" He made the most vigorous hand gesture he dared. "You wouldn't understand."
"To the contrary, I understand completely." The elite guardsman unwound the material from his face to reveal the familiar features of Weile Kahn. He bore a striking resemblance to Subikahn, more so than Tae, and Talamir found those features breathlessly handsome. Weile's eyes were dark and depthless, his hair like midnight with patches of gray at the temples and gently distributed throughout. Though coarsened by maturity, his face bore no notable wrinkles. His stance completed the picture, commanding respect. "My grandson is Renshai. I know what it means to die in battle."
"Sire."Though already on his hands and knees,Talamir attempted to stoop lower.
Weile followed the movement, though slight. "None of that formal crap. I'm untitled by choice." Though true, he had been king only seventeen years earlier, when he gave the crown to Tae and slipped into relative obscurity.
"You told me you would help spare me."
"And I kept my promise." Weile glared at Talamir with an intensity that cowed him, despite being Renshai. "You were on your honor not to bare steel in the court."
"But I had to-"
"And I told you not to fight." Weile's expression became stonier, and Talamir found himself unable to talk, unwilling to further defend his actions. "You scarred two of the best men in the world, bodyguards I've trusted for over forty years. Men who would gladly give their lives for me and have forsaken all other pleasures, including those of women, to remain at my side when I need them."
Talamir lowered his head, suddenly awash with guilt for resorting to unnecessary violence. The remorse seemed wrong, out of place in the repertoire of a man trained lifelong to react to threats with a sword; yet it remained no less powerful and real. He could not understand why Weile's words had such a profound effect upon him. Yet, as he sat in the deep and meaningful silence that followed Weile Kahn's pronouncement, Talamir's mind focused on a single phrase: "forsaken all other pleasures, including women."Weile's bodyguards, men feared and respected throughout the Eastern kingdom. Could those two be lovers? Only that, as well as a vast love for his grandson, might explain why Weile had taken a personal interest in Talamir's situation.
"If you want my help, you have to do as I tell you."
Talamir forced himself to raise his head. He could not quite manage his usual wary crouch, but he did clamber to his haunches without vomiting. "You can… you can still… lighten my sentence."
Weile blinked deliberately but otherwise did not change his expression. "Talamir, I believe I could have gotten you off just by talking to my son had you not compounded your simple offense with…" He added with significance, "… high treason."
Again, Talamir suffered the intense regret that had assailed him earlier. He understood its source better now; he had discarded honor and common sense. He had attacked his lover's beloved father after vowing to himself that he never would. "I made a huge mistake." He looked up at Weile, eyes welling with tears beyond his control. "I'm a Renshai torke, I'm supposed to shape young sinews and minds.Yet, when it came to saving myself and the one I love most in the world, I did everything wrong."
"Not everything."
Awash in anguish, Talamir barely heard. "Why didn't you kill me in battle?" The prison cell blurred to bars and granite, an endless gray reeking of sweat, urine, and sickness.
"Talamir, you went against your honor by baring steel in the court. But you proved yourself to me when you lied to protect Subikahn."
Talamir saw no virtue in that action. "I said I raped my lover. I claimed to have hurt the one person I never would. What if Subikahn comes to believe it?"
Weile snorted. "I don't even think Tae believes it."
Talamir jerked his head up and immediately wished he had not. His stomach protested emphatically.
"I was testing you. I just wanted to know whether you would sacrifice yourself for Subikahn." Weile spoke of such things without a trace of self-consciousness, as if they were chatting at the local tavern. "You've proved your worth."
"But at what price? I'm going to be tortured to death, and Subikahn…?" Talamir scarcely dared to ask. He had avoided the question thus far, desperately worried to hear the answer. "Is he…? Will he be… wholly spared?" A worse thought struck him. "He won't have to… watch my execution, will he?" The very thought seemed worse than anything the guards of Stalmize could do to him.
Weile Kahn closed his eyes, shook his head. He seemed slightly amused. "You're not the only one who loves Subikahn. His father coddles him."
"Usually." Now that he had broached the subject, Talamir had to know. "But this time?"
"Banished till his twentieth birthday and charged with visiting every continent in the world."
Talamir's eyes widened, no longer teary. "He doesn't have a lick of street smarts. The world will eat him up."
"Which is why he needs a dedicated bodyguard." Anticipating the argument, Weile raised a hand. "Not because he's not a skilled swordsman, already far more so than his father. But because he lacks experience, wisdom."
Talamir knew exactly who Weile meant. "So… you can still… get me off?"
"Not for high treason, Talamir."
The Renshai slumped. He had, apparently, misunderstood.
"But I can help you escape." Weile raised an arm to reveal a key dangling from his fingers. He unclipped his own sword and passed it through the bars.
Despite the residual effects of the toxin, Talamir leaped for the offering. He pulled it through with the enthusiasm a starving beggar shows a fresh baked pie.
"And wear this." Weile stuffed his black robes and silver gauze through the bars. "I'll h
elp you put it on properly; my men will easily spot a fake. And make absolutely certain you leave it with one of us once you're out. Otherwise, we will have no choice but to hunt you down ourselves."
Talamir clutched the sword like a lifeline, forcing himself to listen even as he studied the line of the blade through its sheath. He would not know its quality until he drew it but knew better than to do so with the king's father standing so near, unarmed, and still in possession of the key. He owed Weile more than his life.
"Don't do anything stupid." Weile separated that piece of advice from everything before and after.
Talamir did not know whether to resent the implication or agree with it. Thus far, he had not conducted himself well, and Renshai were not known for their caution or strategy. Even in war, they fought without plan, their sole focus to win each individual battle or die fighting.
"My men know and will not bother you unless you force their hands." Weile added with intensity, "That will irritate me, and you don't want me irritated."
Talamir believed it.
"The regular guards, however, do not know. They're good men, just doing their jobs. If you act as if you belong and walk right past them, you should get free without violence." It was warning as much as information. "I gave you that sword because I know Renshai.You're more secure and, in a strange way, safer with it. I would appreciate it, however, if you didn't kill anyone in the employ of the king."
"I promise."
Weile raised a brow.
"I mean it," Talamir said. "I won't bare steel, this time. Not unless there is no other option."
"And you will commit to attending my grandson until his return."
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