General Sutton of Pudar cleared his throat. “Perhaps it would be better to keep her here.”
Kedrin smiled indulgently. “I believe we all know that when it comes to beings of magic, wise men never choose to anger or detain them unnecessarily. The girl asked emphatically to go home. Hopefully, whatever induced her to help us will work again, and the Knights will endear themselves to her and her kind. Whatever they may be.” He looked at Tem’aree’ay, brows rising.
Tem’aree’ay rose to the question. “She’s human, Knight-Captain.”
This time, startled voices rose into a rumble. To the best knowledge of the world’s current scholars, no human had displayed even a trace of magical powers within the last several centuries. Even Tae felt his heart skip a beat. He had more experience than most, had read more history than even the princes and princesses of Béarn. The nearest thing to modern human magic that he knew of was his ability, and Matrinka’s, to communicate with Imorelda and her departed mother, Mior.
“You’re sure?” Kedrin said, politely, as always.
“We had to link magic to suppress the Kjempemagiska’s magic. She’s human. If I had to guess, I’d say a distant descendant of the Myrcidians, perhaps carried in her line since the time of the Cardinal Wizards. They’re the only magical humans I’ve ever known.”
Shocked silent, the assemblage did not seem to know what to say. Only Imorelda addressed Tae, *Is she saying she knew the Cardinal Wizards?*
Either that or Tem’aree’ay had used poor phrasing. While the common human trading tongue had a basis around the worlds, it was not the elves’ first language. *She might have. It’s rumored elves can live hundreds of years, even a thousand or longer. The one they call Captain earned his name ferrying about the Cardinal Wizards.*
“A descendant of Cardinal Wizards,” General Markanyin said with equal measures of introspection and hope. “Her parents may have similar abilities? And others, too?”
Knight-Captain Kedrin sighed. “She’s been polite but very secretive about her home and family. We’re hoping she’ll bond with some of the knights and become more talkative.”
The regular ministers of Béarn normally spoke little when it came to matters of war; but, this time, Minister Franstaine said his piece. “She seemed rather close to your oldest grandson, Captain. Perhaps he can get her to tell us more.”
Kedrin pursed his lips. “I’m afraid anything she told Saviar remains in confidence. And whatever closeness they had no longer exists. She wants nothing to do with him.”
A Western leader Tae did not know spoke next. “Then what reason does he have for keeping her confidences?”
Tae winced, and the entire room seemed to join him. Kedrin turned his head slowly until he faced the speaker directly. “One’s word is one’s honor. Without it, a man is nothing.”
The stranger persisted. “Even when not speaking could mean the destruction of your world? It seems to me that honor dictates a man must break his word to one when the lives of so many are at stake.”
Kedrin’s voice remained soft but commanding and full of building rage. “Do not preach honor to a Knight of Erythane. Integrity dictates that a man do the right thing even when it becomes inconvenient or will result in the loss of one’s own life. My grandson will not break any vow he might have made.”
Tae did not feel certain that the same held true for his own son. If Subikahn knew anything about Chymmerlee’s background, he might be coaxed to tell it, in the right circumstances, even against a promise. Clearly, however, now was not the time to mention it. “We have not gotten so desperate we need to force a moral man to go against his principles. Let’s see what the Knights of Erythane can do, first. Even if they fail, we have other options.”
Queen Matrinka chose to skip most of the planning sessions, especially those regarding military matters. When she did attend, she said nothing. So when she opened her mouth, the room became like a tomb around her. “May I speak from a woman’s perspective?”
Multiple gestures followed from every quarter, all encouraging.
“Chymmerlee is at that age when a girl’s fancy turns to . . . well . . .” Matrinka’s cheeks flushed. “. . . boys. She just lost one suitor, by her own choice, and she may be open to the attentions of another young man.”
*Matrinka and her mushy stuff,* Imorelda complained. *If she’s not trying to make me have kittens, she’s trying to make some young girl have them.*
Tae could not help smiling ever so slightly. *I don’t think she’s talking about . . . making kittens, Imorelda. I think she’s just saying Chymmerlee might open up her thoughts to an attentive young man.*
*Among other things.*
Tae ignored the cat’s crudeness. “It certainly couldn’t hurt to have a well-mannered and reasonably handsome young man among the knights returning her home. One who might spare her some attention at a time when she might crave it.”
Kedrin’s growing frown forced Tae to add more.
“I’m not suggesting he lie to or mislead her, just show her the usual manners knights display. If he just happened to get assigned to her, well there’s nothing inherently immoral about that, is there?”
“No,” Kedrin had to admit. “We do have a trainee among those selected to bring her safely home. Since they are similar in age, they may drift together. Or she may feel so disgusted about her last attempt at romance she wants nothing to do with any young male. Either way, we will make her comfortable and respect her decision.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, the only indication he had softened. “And if they do happen to drift together, no one will interfere.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Griff said. “No one could ask for more.”
*Sure they could.* Imorelda lacked all of the king’s subtlety.
*You could,* Tae admitted. *But it probably wouldn’t work. You can’t force love, and you can’t rush it.*
The cat made a disgusted noise. *You humans attach too much sentiment to everything and analyze things to death. We can tell when you’re in love. You have to be beaten over the head with a brick sometimes.*
Tae caught the reference. The cat had been trying to get him to marry Alneezah, the kind and quick-witted maid who watched over him, while he had repeatedly denied his affection for her. Tae had finally recognized that the cat was right, but he could not act on the knowledge until he returned home. Nor had he admitted his mistake to Imorelda. *You can’t make people love on command. It has to happen naturally.*
Imorelda sent a mental laugh. *Men are poor dumb saps who don’t even realize that women quietly, secretly make all your decisions. Including who you love.*
Tae did not have time to ponder the cat’s words, other than to realize that one female did have great power over him: Imorelda herself.
King Griff summed up the proceedings. “So, it seems we have resolved to do several things today. First, we must prepare for a larger attack by giant magical beings. Second, we will shore up our communication systems, including leaving some representatives in Béarn and elsewhere to prepare for an attack in the near or distant future on any beachfront. Third, we will attempt to enlist the aid of magical beings, including the elves, Chymmerlee, and any others like Chymmerlee who might exist. Fourth, we need to learn the plans of these magical giants in order to thwart or prepare for them. We will meet back here in three days’ time with specific ideas as to how to achieve those four objectives.”
Tae sucked in a huge breath of air, knowing exactly which role would have to become his. He alone could speak the language of the enemy, and it required not only the use of voice but of mental speaking. He knew of only one other person capable of such a thing, and the idea of involving Matrinka in a spying mission like the one that had nearly killed him was revolting. Griff might even try to stop Tae himself from going. If he died spying, they lost the key to communication with the Kjempemagiska.
Tae had three days to make a decision.
The Renshai will remain the finest swordsmen in the world, but never again will we ravage lands at peace without cause.
—Colbey Calistinsson
SAVIAR RA-KHIRSSON SLIPPED INTO the Renshai encampment as the sun glided below the ocean, smearing streaks of red across the waves. Voices carried over the sand, and the dark figures of moving men filled the horizon as they continued the job of sorting corpses. The Renshai had already sent their own dead to the pyre. The torke challenged the mortally injured to combat, granting them the death in valorous battle they all craved and required, humanely destroying those too weak to fight.
The rest of the cleanup fell to the companions of the dead or to the noncombatants of Béarn. Healers worked tirelessly on injured allies, while the dead and dying of the enemy were piled unceremoniously or dragged into the surf for the sharks to devour. Urchins and beggars ransacked the heaps, seeking missed bits of copper or jewelry and well-hidden weapons. Some groups fared better than others. Where the Renshai had lost only a handful of warriors, men and women alike; the untrained peasants of the central West had fallen in numbers that required mass graves.
Saviar walked to the makeshift tent erected by his family, only to find his father’s white charger saddled and ready, Darby fussing over the last details of grooming his own chestnut gelding. Though Saviar could not explain why, the sight of the young squire diligently focused on the animals aggravated his already foul temper. He brushed aside the tent flap without bothering to ascertain that he did not expose his father.
Ra-khir looked up from his preparations, wearing the formal black breeks and long-sleeved silk undershirt of the Knights of Erythane. He looked out of place without his tabard and cape, his red-blond hair wild and his hands unclad. Although he smiled, the corners of his lips turned down ever so slightly. “Ah, Saviar.” His tone did not express the usual joy at the sight of his son.
That bothered Saviar. Prior to his mother’s death, he and his father had been close, much more so than the aloof, contemptuous Calistin or Subikahn, who had spent nearly as much time in the East with his father as on the Fields of Wrath with the rest of his family.
“Going somewhere?” Saviar stared into his father’s face. Ra-khir should have told him; he should not have had to ask.
“On a mission for the knights,” Ra-khir said matter-of-factly as he pulled on his tabard. Blue and gold in the front, it displayed the rearing grizzly of Béarn. On the back, it was black, with the orange sun and sword symbol of Erythane. Saviar knew it so well, he could draw every detail with his eyes closed.
“Where to?” Saviar asked innocently, wondering how long his father would remain evasive.
Ra-khir adjusted every seam and wrinkle. “North into the middle Westlands.” He picked up his cape. “We’re serving as an escort.”
“We?”
“Me and three other knights.” Ra-khir threw the golden fabric across his shoulders and reached for the clasp.
“Can I come along?”
Ra-khir did not miss a beat. He fastened the clasp, then set to adjusting every fold. “I’m sorry, Saviar. It’s for knights only.”
Saviar’s ire rose further, and he fought it down. “You’ve taken me before.”
“That was your grandfather’s idea. And, at the time, you were contemplating becoming a Knight of Erythane.”
Saviar studied his father, forever in awe of the splendid figure cut by all of Erythane’s knights. Even without the hat and the gloves, a Knight of Erythane inspired admiration and trust, especially in the son who used to worship them. “What makes you think I no longer am?”
Ra-khir stopped preening to study Saviar. “You’ve expressed no further interest. Joining the Knights of Erythane is not something you can do halfway. It requires commitment and intense dedication.”
Saviar could only stare. “Since I expressed my interest, when have I had a chance to pursue anything? As soon as we returned home from that particular mission, Mother was killed in the Northmen’s duel and the Renshai banished from the entire Westlands. We got back barely in time for the war, which has only just ended.”
Ra-khir responded so softly even Saviar could scarcely hear him. “You were not banished.”
“What?” Saviar could not believe what he had heard.
Dutifully, Ra-khir repeated, “You were not banished. I told you the Erythanian Council determined you and your brothers could stay, since your only living parent was Erythanian, not Renshai.”
Ire flared to frank anger. “So you expected me to abandon my tribe?”
“I expected you,” Ra-khir started just as softly, forcing Saviar to strain to hear, “to do exactly as you did. Aside from leaving in secret without telling me good-bye.”
“So that’s what this is all about.”
Ra-khir looked all innocence. “What do you mean?”
“I abandoned you, so you’re abandoning me.” Saviar turned his back, the insult deliberate. “I suffered a lot of guilt for that bad decision. And I apologized. I can understand your being upset, but I can’t understand your inability to forgive me.”
Ra-khir put on his wide, yellow belt, fastening it from long habit. “I forgave you long before you apologized. Children do hurtful things sometimes, but you never stop loving them.” He reached for his sword, long and broad. Saviar could never remember a time when he did not have a sword at his own hip or in his hand, but he had started with much thinner, shorter blades. He recalled hefting his father’s mighty weapon in his youth and nearly falling on his face. “I’m not abandoning you, Saviar. I’m going on a short mission. I’ve been serving the Knights of Erythane your whole life, and I’ve gone many places without you. Why is this one so different?”
“Because—” Only one answer came, not the one Saviar had intended to shout, but the truth. Realizing his resentment had grown far out of proportion to the circumstances, Saviar let the words escape him softly. “—you’re escorting Chymmerlee, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Ra-khir admitted, attaching his sword to his belt and flicking it into the proper knightly angle.
“She hates me now, doesn’t she?”
Ra-khir would never lie. “It would appear you are not among her favorites.”
Saviar had to know. “Why? What did I do wrong?”
Ra-khir sighed. He sat on the deadfall that served as their only piece of furniture in the camp and gestured for Saviar to take a place beside him.
The Renshai complied.
“You lied to her, Saviar. About being Renshai.”
Although he knew his only defense would not work with Ra-khir, or any Knight of Erythane, Saviar could not help trying. “I didn’t lie. It just . . . never . . . came up.”
Ra-khir gave Saviar a disapproving look, one he knew from his childhood but did not realize still worked so well on his conscience. “A lie of omission is still a lie, Saviar. You know that.”
“Yes, but . . . Thialnir says we should not reveal ourselves as Renshai until people get to know us and like us. Otherwise, they might react badly to us just because of our tribe.”
“Thialnir is a wise Renshai.” Having defended the source, Ra-khir did not let Saviar off the hook. “However, I think you got well past the point where Chymmerlee got to know and like you without telling her. Yes?”
Saviar nodded and opened his mouth to explain.
But Ra-khir had not yet finished. “I don’t expect you to act like a Knight of Erythane, but I do expect you to behave like the moral, decent man you are. Trust must be earned, and it shatters easily, with a single lie or betrayal. In the end, a man’s word and his good name are the only things he truly owns. If he sacrifices those, he has nothing.”
Saviar had heard those words before. “But, Papa, that’s exactly what—”
Ra-khir still had a point to make. “Do you love her, Sa
viar?”
Saviar had not expected the sudden question. “I-I don’t know. I suppose I eventually could. I like her a lot, but I’m not ready for marriage or anything.” He could not help wondering, “Why does that matter?”
“Because, Saviar, if you truly care about someone, you would never violate her trust. Never. She must know, without any reason to ever consider doubting, that you would not harm her, that you would lay down your life for her.”
Saviar screwed up his features, trying to fathom the new direction the conversation had taken.
“It is the ultimate measure of a man. Because, if his wife and children cannot trust him, those he professes to love most in the world, how can anyone? If he would be disloyal to his loved ones, how much quicker will he betray anyone of lesser importance? Most women, good women, do not need this explained to them; they know intuitively. But even usually-wise kings have made the mistake of putting men who deceive their wives in positions of power, then act surprised when the dog next turns on them.”
Saviar shook his head. “I see your point. It’s one I admit I never considered. But, in this case, it works against you.”
Ra-khir’s brows inched upward. “How so?”
“Because, when I awoke from my coma—”
Ra-khir interrupted, a discourtesy he rarely indulged in, “Coma?” Clear alarm came out in that solitary word.
“—having no idea where I was or what was happening, Subikahn made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone about us being Renshai. Having made that vow to a loved one, I could hardly break it.”
“The loved one being Subikahn.” Ra-khir shook his head repeatedly. “Coma?”
Clearly, they could not continue the discussion until Saviar answered the outstanding question. “Apparently, I took a bad hit and went septic. I lost a lot of remembered time, not only during and after the injury but even some before it. I’m told that happens a lot with bad accidents; the healers even have a name for it. Something long I can’t pronounce. If you want more than that, you’ll have to ask Subikahn.”
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