Heir of Autumn

by Giles Carwyn

  Trent couldn’t remember the walk home. But he remembered the night before all too well. The images kept running through his mind. The sound of Brophy’s voice from far above. The feel of Femera’s breast in his hand, her nails upon his wrist. He shook the thoughts from his head.

  What if the girl talked? She certainly would. That was just what he needed.

  He lay back in bed, prodded the tenderness in his belly. Somehow he kept hoping it would fade.

  Perhaps Brophy could talk to the girl, but he would probably just believe her lies all over again.

  Trent got the little slut her money back and still she picked a fight with him. Was he just supposed to let her talk like that? He couldn’t believe she put up such a fuss. He’d never done anything to her. She was nothing to him. She started it, but Trent finished it.

  He still couldn’t believe Brophy took her side, after all their years as friends, after those empty promises to watch his back. The bastard probably did her after I left, Trent thought. The way she was wiggling her ass all night, she obviously wanted some.

  Trent heard a thump out on the balcony. He winced as he quickly retied the laces on his breeches.

  “Who is it?” he asked, relieved to find that his voice was even.

  Brophy stepped through the archway, brushing the bark off his hands. Trent sat up and let his hands drift to his sides. Brophy’s eyes were red, his hair twisted and matted like gold wool. His clothes were rumpled and stained, his hands dirty. He looked like he was ready to throw another punch.

  Finally, Brophy broke the silence. “There’s no way out of this, you know,” he murmured.

  Trent felt his chest tighten.

  “You’re going to have to tell your father,” Brophy continued. “You’re going to have to make amends to Femera and Garm. And then…” It seemed as though Brophy could barely get the words out of his mouth, “And then you have to leave Ohndarien.”

  Trent swallowed, feeling like he was going to throw up. “Look, Broph,” he started, gritting his teeth. “I don’t know what she told you, but nothing happened—”

  “Trent!” Brophy shouted. “Everything happened, and you know it!”

  Trent felt a lump rise in his throat that he couldn’t swallow down. He looked away, but Brophy wouldn’t let up.

  “They’re going to force you out the gate, no matter what you do. If you go to your father first, you can tell him you were drunk and didn’t know what you were doing.” He almost phrased it as a question. “He might be able to help you, get you out of the city with some money and a pack full of supplies. If you fight this, if you start lying again, the council will send you out the gate naked. You know what they do to rapists who have been thrown out the gate.”

  Trent forced himself to his feet.

  “Listen to me, Broph. Just calm down. We can pay the girl off. It’s her word against ours. Two against one. Who’ll believe her? She’s nobody.”

  Brophy narrowed his eyes at that. His jaw set. “I believe her. She’s telling the truth.”

  Trent clenched his fist. Brophy glanced at the fist, then back up at Trent. How could he so calmly sentence his best friend to death?

  “Don’t make me, Broph,” Trent murmured. “I can’t tell him, not my father.”

  “You can do it. I’ll help you.”

  “He’ll kill me.”

  “No he won’t. He loves you.”

  Trent barked a short laugh and winced, as pain shot through his side. Brophy didn’t seem to notice.

  “He might love you,” Trent said. “He might love Bae, but he sure doesn’t love me.”

  Spots swam across his vision and sank back onto the bed.

  “Don’t do this to me, Broph,” he said, unable to keep the quaver out of his voice. “Don’t make me leave. I can’t go out there alone.”

  “You won’t be going alone. I’m coming with you.”

  Trent jerked his head up. “What?”

  Brophy’s expression had not changed. “I’ll go with you as far as the Summer Cities. I’ll help you get established, but then I have to come back. There’s something I have to do.”

  Trent felt something tickle his cheek, and he was surprised to wipe away a tear. “Broph…” he began.

  “Come on,” Brophy said. “Get up, get dressed.” He walked out onto the balcony and put his foot on the railing. “I’ll meet you here in a few minutes. We’ll face your father together. Together we’ll tell him.”

  Brophy stood up, balancing on the railing. He looked over his shoulder, but he didn’t turn around.

  “Broph, why are you doing this?”

  A long silence filled the room. “Do you really have to ask?” “I…Yes.”

  Brophy shook his head. “Because you are my brother.” He leapt for the branch, caught it deftly and climbed out of sight.

  16

  SHARA BLINKED. The knock sounded again. She shook her head. Someone at the door? She sat up, shifted her legs over the edge of the bed. Naked. Where were her nightclothes? Didn’t she put them on last night?

  “Shara-lani?” The voice spoke her honorific through the door. She didn’t recognize the person. A messenger?

  “A moment,” she said. Something had happened. She stood up, felt between her thighs.

  Did she…?

  Yes. Victeris came to her last night. They spoke for a long time, of her childhood. Victeris laughed at her stories of the rutting pigs.

  She shook her head. She’d never liked watching that, but her father had made her. Said it was a part of the farm, and she should understand it. She’d only told the stories because Victeris seemed so interested. Then she said she was tired, and he left.

  But…no.

  She was sore. They must have…She’d said she was tired, but he hadn’t left. They’d talked some more and ended up in bed, against the wall, on the floor…That wasn’t right. A master and a Zelani only coupled during the graduation ritual. Only that once.

  Then why…? Shara furrowed her brow. The thought was so difficult to hold on to.

  “Shara-lani?” the voice said from the hall.

  There was someone at the door. Wait. What had she been thinking? Something about Victeris.

  She chased the thought, but it slipped away like a minnow.

  The messenger knocked again. She took a deep breath and reached into the man beyond the door. She felt his anticipation, a little bit of fear, curiosity. “Yes, I am here,” she said.

  Shara let her thoughts go completely. She could think about it later. She followed her breath throughout her body. Her mind calmed, and then cleared. “Enter,” she said.

  The messenger opened the door and stepped inside. He gave a quick bow. She didn’t worry about him seeing her naked. To him, she was garbed in her flowing blue gown, with the Zelani sapphire hanging at her waist.

  “Shara-lani, the Brother of Autumn requests your presence in his rooms.”

  Her heart beat faster. Krellis? In his chambers. Could this be her assignment? Had he chosen her for himself?

  “I shall attend him immediately.”

  The messenger bowed and left.

  She smiled. Ten years of waiting and suddenly everything was happening at once. She’d slept for nearly twenty-four hours after the ritual. It was confusing at first to wake up in her chambers, not sure how she got here. But it did not matter; she felt glorious. She remembered the ritual so vividly. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she was back there. Victeris stood naked before her, his hand rough on her thigh. When he entered her it was not like a man sliding into a woman. It was like a wave crashing into the shore. He shattered her. She flew apart like mist. For a moment she was gone. She ceased to exist and was part of everything. It had been glorious. Fleeting, but glorious nonetheless.

  The experience changed her. She was different now, worth more than she once was. She didn’t know what that meant yet. It was something that might take a lifetime to understand, but she had a lifetime, perhaps more than one if what she s
uspected was true.

  She was a Zelani now. Shara-lani. She was a bonfire walking among candles, and anyone she chose to touch would burn as brightly as she.

  Shara took several deep breaths to bring herself back down. She had to be careful. The power was so close. What used to take hours to build was constantly there, ready to flare out of control. The new challenge would be to hold herself back, to stay focused on her audience with Krellis.

  She wanted a bath, but she couldn’t take the time. She slipped on the gown of her office, fixed the silver chain around her waist, and adjusted it so the sapphire rode the front of her left hip. After a brief glance in the mirror, she left her room.

  It wasn’t a long walk from the school to Krellis’s villa on the shore of Southridge, but she enjoyed the journey. All along the way she played with her new power. She reached out to every person along her path. It was natural to slip into their bodies, feel their emotions, their general state of well-being. She even reached into sailors skimming across the bay far below. She could barely see them at that distance, but she could tap into their life force as easily as she could read an expression on someone’s face. She must have touched hundreds of people along the way. She gave them a hint of the light she carried with her and left each one a little happier than she found them.

  When she passed Baelandra’s villa, Shara reached out toward Brophy. She couldn’t see him, but she felt him through the blue-white marble of the garden walls. He was upset about something, but she didn’t dig deeper to find out what. She wouldn’t invade her friend’s privacy.

  Krellis’s villa stood next door. The three-story marble mansion didn’t look much different than the buildings on either side of it, but it had a very different feel. It was a man’s house. Masculinity had soaked into the stones. It excited her. She couldn’t wait to see what lay beyond the marble walls.

  Two soldiers stood guard in the archway that led into Krellis’s garden. The men uncrossed their spears and let her in without a word. Shara could feel their eyes on her as she walked between them, and she smiled.

  Crossing the garden felt like a ritual, much like the swim to her graduation. Shara took the steps quickly on silent feet. The stairs led to a pair of double doors left slightly ajar. Six daggers were carved above the door, exactly where Brophy said they’d be, one for each of the Physendrian assassins who had failed to kill Krellis.

  There had been times when she’d feared whom she might serve as a Zelani. What if she wasn’t attracted to them? How would it affect her? She suppressed her grin. She wouldn’t have to worry about that again. She had no doubts about serving Krellis. Shara pictured the Brother of Autumn in her mind, the way he walked, the way he fenced, the way he’d looked her in the eye. Everything about the man promised that he would be a magnificent lover. She shook her head. Mustn’t act like a lovesick maid.

  Reaching out a hand, she paused, evened her breathing, and knocked lightly.

  “Come,” Krellis said, his deep voice rumbling through the door, through her chest.

  She pushed the door open and entered. He stood behind a table piled with papers, scrolls, and a few hefty tomes. He looked up, nodded approvingly.

  “Good,” he said, and looked back at his papers. She stood in silence as he perused the last of them. When he was finished, he walked around the table and stood in front of her. They watched each other in silence for a moment. She held her composure, determined to hide her excitement.

  “Victeris tells me that you are possibly his best student yet.”

  She nodded, but a blush crept into her cheeks.

  “He doesn’t hand out praise very often,” Krellis said. His bushy salt-and-pepper beard, his mane of dark hair, and those glittering brown eyes made him seem like a wild beast, tamed by his own fierce will to walk among civilized men.

  “I have done my best, Brother.”

  He studied her. She remained where she was, looking back at him. Victeris said that a Zelani was meant to be seen. Perhaps this was the last scrutiny of the one with whom she would be joined.

  “He also says that you ran away when you were younger.”

  The steady rhythm of Shara’s breathing faltered.

  “He did?”

  Krellis’s mustache twitched. His eyes glittered.

  She cleared her throat and forced her breathing back to its natural, even cadence. “I didn’t know anyone else was aware of that.”

  “He says you have a spirited streak.”

  She suddenly realized this was not an interview. He was playing with her, getting a feel for her. He had already chosen her but was curious. She could have known all of this from the moment she walked into the room, but she hadn’t allowed herself to flow into him, to taste his emotions with her powers. From respect, from awe, she wasn’t sure exactly why.

  She licked her lips. “The spirit is what drives the power of a Zelani.”

  His mustache twitched again. “Indeed,” he rumbled.

  She couldn’t read anything from his expression. Was that tightening of his eyes disapproval or amusement?

  Unwilling to restrain herself any longer, she reached out for the man and let her passions flow into him. Behind that stern exterior, Krellis burned. He was a man of a hundred secret torches. She opened her mouth at the heat of it. Her breath faltered, and the vision vanished. The torches disappeared and she was looking into his eyes once more.

  He arched an eyebrow.

  This man was not an open book to be read so easily. It made her want him even more.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Come.” Krellis looked past her.

  To her surprise, Trent entered the room. He looked at her, his brow furrowing. Beads of light perspiration stood out on his forehead. The boy was suffering and lacked his normally cocky stance. She narrowed her eyes. His feelings were jumbled and chaotic.

  “Father,” he said, inclining his head. He had only taken one step into the room, as though he was ready to turn and flee. “You wanted to see me?”

  “You look spectacularly hungover,” Krellis said.

  Trent shot Shara a quick, curious glance.

  “I…had a bit to drink last night.”

  Krellis laughed, suddenly and genuinely. “Indeed? You say that as though the entire city does not know. Siren’s Blood. Now that is a drink of men. I know something of it. They say it drove the Silver Islanders mad.”

  Trent cracked a tentative smile. “Yes, I think I went a little mad myself last night.”

  “Wine has always been a whore. The more you play the more she makes you pay.”

  “Then this is one whore I may be in debt to for quite a while.”

  Krellis walked over to Trent and clapped his son on the shoulder. The boy wobbled.

  “If you must suffer, suffer well. A man’s mettle isn’t only tested on the battlefield, but also by how he handles his drink.”

  “I shall be fine,” Trent said.

  “Good man.”

  Trent grinned.

  “You know,” Krellis said, “when I was your age, I once got so stinking drunk in Paeler’s Port that someone stole the boots right off my feet. You never realize how much shit there is in the world until you have to walk home barefoot.” He laughed again, and this time Trent laughed with him.

  “Well.” Krellis waved a hand. “I won’t belabor this meeting. I’ve brought you here because I have something to say that concerns both of you. Trent, I have a problem, and I need your advice.”

  Krellis’s son jerked back as if stung. His eyes narrowed and he moved forward to stand beside Shara. Trent looked like a dog begging for a bone. Krellis had never asked his son for anything, least of all his advice.

  “I have a difficult and dangerous task. I need someone I can trust to take care of it,” Krellis said. “I need a good man. Who do you think I should send?”

  Trent considered his words carefully. A line of sweat trickled down Trent’s temple. It wasn’t just the hangover. This boy was in pain.


  “Master Gorlym,” Trent said, “would be my first choice. He’s brave, smart, and the best in the yard with a blade or spear.”

  Krellis raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly. “Indeed. A fine choice. But I need the Master of the Citadel to remain where he is.”

  Trent nodded. “What about…” He looked at Shara. “The Zelani master? Victeris?”

  Krellis shook his head. “Actually, I was thinking about you.”

  A smile slowly spread across Trent’s face. “Truly?”

  Krellis waved a hand. “I had Celidon fit for the job, if he passed the Test. But, well…”

  Trent’s delighted expression faded. “Would I…” He cleared his throat. “Shall I take the Test of the Stone, Father?”

  “No,” Krellis said. “I don’t think that will be necessary. But if you succeed in the task, I will recommend you to the council when you return.”

  Trent relaxed slightly, but Shara could tell he was still tense.

  “What is the task?”

  “I want you to find the Lost Brothers.”

  Trent opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Shara looked at Krellis to see if this was a joke. It wasn’t. Krellis watched his son with narrowed eyes, as though the rest of the conversation had been a feint, and this the true thrust.

  Trent’s easygoing grin appeared for the first time that morning, but Shara could see through him. “Are you so anxious to be rid of me, Father?” He laughed.

  Krellis laughed with him. “It’s not as hopeless a task as people think, and I won’t send you alone,” he promised. He nodded toward Shara, and her heart slammed against her rib cage. “Your friend Shara has recently graduated. Victeris claims that she’s the most talented Zelani he’s ever taught. She will accompany you.”

  Not Trent! Anyone but Trent! Shara kept the expression off her face, but her breath faltered again. The room became ordinary. She couldn’t feel either of them anymore.

  Trent was vain, spiteful, even cruel at times. She knew him too well from their childhood together. He was often mean on purpose, and whenever he was kind, it almost always seemed to be an accident.