Valdemar Anthology - [Tales of Valdemar 02] - Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Mercedes Lackey

  And the Son of the Sun had sent him here. To speak with Alberich. The Great Traitor.

  Karchanek pursed his lips. “I find myself wondering if I can tell you anything that you do not already know,” he said at last.

  Alberich leaned back in his chair. “I am a man of great patience,” he replied. “I have no particular objection to hearing something more than once. Begin at the beginning.”

  “The beginning . . .” mused Karchanek, then smiled again. “Ah, then you will have to have great patience, for the beginning, the true beginning, lies with the Son of the Sun, may Vkandis hold her at zenith. Solaris. Who has been and is my friend as well as my superior.”

  Alberich was very glad of his ability to don an inscrutable card-sharper’s face, for he surely needed that mask to hide his eagerness. Solaris! Now there was a person no one knew much about here in Valdemar—and someone whom they all desperately needed to know everything about.

  But he kept his mask in place. “The new Son of the Sun,” he observed dryly. “The—female Son of the Sun.” Just to pair “female” with “Son of the Sun” would have been a blasphemy so profound a few years ago that the speaker would not only have been burned, but his ashes mixed with salt, his lands plowed under, his wife and children sacrificed, his ancestors dug up and reburied in a potter’s field, and every trace that he had ever lived at all utterly eradicated.

  Karchanek’s smile broadened, and he spread his hands wide. “Even so. And so crowned by Vkandis Sunlord—” he made the sign of the Holy Disk, “—himself, with His Own hands. Perhaps you had heard of this?”

  “Some,” Alberich admitted. “Rumors, tales that seemed particularly wild.”

  “Not so. This, I witnessed along with thousands of others, and do believe me, Herald Alberich, it was no delusion, no trick of magic or mind, no clever artifice with a moving statue. Though the statue did move, it was no mere trumpery with a cleverly hinged arm. The Image arose from His throne, walked lithe and manlike, and took the crown from His Own head to place it upon that of Solaris. Which shrank as He put it there to fit her—exactly. I saw it. I have held that very crown in my two hands, and—” he paused again. “There is a thing not many would know about, save the handful of novices sent to polish the Image entire, one of which I was, and the only one among them to polish the crown. Which task I owe to my habit of squirreling up the cloister walls, into the cloister orchard, round about when the plums were ripe.” His eyes twinkled, and Myste hid a grin. “At the back of the crown upon the Image there was a lozenge, no bigger than my palm and quite invisible from below, where the sculptor, the gilder, and the jewel smith set their marks. That lozenge and those marks are upon the back of the crown that Solaris now wears.”

  “Interesting,” Alberich began, still skeptical, for a truly clever fraud would have taken that into account and made sure to replicate every oddity and imperfection in the crown worn by the Great Image. And someone who was Solaris’ friend as well as her supporter would probably swear that the Sun had stood still in the heavens for a day in order to lend more strength to her claim to the Sun Throne. But Karchanek was not finished.

  “Nay, there is more, for has the Sunlord in His wisdom not granted her direct counsel in the form of—a Firecat?” Karchanek’s brows arched, and well they might.

  “A Firecat?” The words were almost forced from him. Alberich had not been a scholarly man, but even children knew all the tales of the miraculous avatars of Vkandis, and most Karsite children played at Reulan and the Firecat the way Valdemaran children played at Heralds and Companions. “But—Firecats are legend, merely—”

  Karchanek shook his head emphatically. “No more. One walks by her side and sits at her Council table, and, when he chooses (which is seldom) lets his thoughts be known to those around Solaris as well as to the Son of the Sun herself.” Karchanek sat back just a little, a smile of satisfaction playing on his lips. “He has, in fact, deigned to address a word or two to me. It was a remarkable experience, hearing someone speak inside one’s head. Although I imagine that you, Heralds, are so used to such a thing from your own Companions by now that you take it as commonplace.”

  That was a shrewd shot—telling them that he knew not only that Companions weren’t horses (or demons), but that they Mindspoke to their Heralds.

  :Is he saying this—Firecat—Mindspeaks?: Myste asked incredulously.

  Well, if it was a real Firecat, that would be the least of its talents. If? There was no reason to doubt it. Without a Firecat, the living, breathing, and very present symbol of Vkandis’ favor, Solaris could not have lasted a month. :Like a Companion, yes. And, presumably, gets its wisdom from the same source.:

  “There have been reforms of late, in the ranks of the Sun-priests,” Alberich ventured. “Solaris’ reforms, it is said.”

  Now Karchanek actually laughed. “Reforms—yes. One could call them ‘reforms’—in the same way that one could refer to the razing of a robber’s stronghold as ‘a little housecleaning.’ Not even Solaris can root out all the corruption of centuries, but the cleansing has begun.” Then he sobered. “The Fires, the summoning of demons, the terrorizing of our own people, all these are no more. And there is something that should die with them. The enmity between Karse and Valdemar.”

  Well, there it was, the offer that Alberich had been hoping for, but was still not certain he should trust. “We seem to be facing the same enemy,” he pointed out. “Ancar of Hardorn—”

  “Hardorn can devour us separately: United, we will be too tough a morsel to swallow,” agreed the other. “And there is no surety on your part that once he is disposed of, we will not turn back to our old ways and warfares.”

  “But—”

  “But hear the words of the Son of the Sun.” Karchanek brought out a thin metal tube from within his sleeve, in diameter no larger than an arrow shaft. He opened it, and removed a sheet of paper so thin that Alberich could see the writing on it from the opposite side.

  Greetings to Captain Alberich, now Herald of Valdemar, loyal son of two warring lands,” Karchanek read aloud. “I, Solaris, Son of the Sun by the grace of Vkandis Sunlord, send these words to you and not to the Queen who holds your allegiance because the counsel of the Sunlord is that one with a heart divided will be more like to lend heed to that which promises division will be healed than one who is single-hearted. To you I say this: without Karse, Valdemar may fall, and without Valdemar, Karse may perish. Yet to unite our peoples, more than words on a treaty are needed. All overtures were like to come to naught, or be concluded too late. So I brought my prayers to the Sunlord, and the Sunlord has said this unto me. ‘Bring Me a Herald of Valdemar, that I may make of her a Priest of My Order in the sight of all, that none may doubt or dare to prosecute a war which is abomination in My sight.’ ”

  Alberich suddenly found it hard to breathe, and Myste gasped openly. With Karchanek’s eyes on him, he forced himself to take a breath, forced himself to think, think about this offer, so strange, and so unexpected.

  And when he managed to get his mind focused, one thing leaped out at him.

  “You read Solaris’ words exactly?” he demanded, his voice harsher than he intended.

  “Exactly,” Karchanek averred. “And there is just a little more.” He cleared his throat, and went on. “And when the Sunlord had said this to me, I bowed before His will. “I shall send my trusted envoy with all speed,” I pledged, but He had not finished. ‘Not any Herald for so great a trust, not any Herald can bridge this gap between our peoples,’ He said unto me. ‘Send thou to the one they call the Great Traitor, for only his tongue will be trusted, and say that I require they send the one who stands at the Queen’s right hand. Say that I call upon the Queen’s Own to join My service, and be a bridge between Our peoples.’ And so He left me, and so I have done. By my hand and seal, Solaris, Son of the Sun.”

  The last words fell like pebbles into an abyss of silence as Alberich gave over any effort to keep his face expressionless. His
mind was a total blank. If anyone had told him that these words would ever be spoken between Karsite and Valdemaran, he’d have sent for the Mind-Healers. Insane. Impossible.

  “Gods don’t ask for much,” Myste said into the silence. “Do they?”

  “I will leave this with you,” Karchanek said solemnly, rerolling the near-transparent paper and inserting it in its metal tube, handing it to Alberich who took it numbly. “There are other sureties I have that I will bring to you later. I understand that you have a kind of magic that can determine if one is telling the truth, and I beg that you will tell your Queen that I submit to such willingly. This is no trivial thing we ask of you.” He stood up, and Gerichen belatedly did the same. “You will know where to find me when you are ready.”

  Without asking leave—not that Alberich could have given it at the moment—he and Gerichen walked out. Alberich stared at the metal cylinder in his hands.

  “ForeSight—” Myste said firmly. “We need someone with ForeSight.” She started to get to her feet, but Alberich shook his head at her.

  “Eldan and Kero, these are who we need first of all,” he countered. His own ForeSight, limited as it was, hadn’t even warned him that this was coming.

  Then again, would it? It only tells me about disaster looming, not if something good is going to happen. . . .

  Small wonder he was a pessimist by nature. “I shall get them—if they are where I think, none other would be paid heed to,” he continued, handing the cylinder to Myste. “If you so kind would be, would you with a scholar’s eye look this over for tampering.”

  “I can try,” Myste said dubiously. “But I don’t exactly have a lot of Karsite documents to compare to it—or anything in Solaris’ hand either.”

  But she unrolled the document and bent her lenses over it, much to Alberich’s relief. He didn’t want her haring off to the Collegium in search of someone with ForeSight and letting fall any hints of this evening’s revelations. At least, not until she had gotten over her own shock and regained a Chronicler’s necessary dispassion for the situation.

  Herald-Captain Kerowyn was the logical choice to be informed, since she was practically in the Lord Marshal’s back pocket. And as for Herald Eldan—well, that worthy was Alberich’s source of information on Karse and the goings-on there. Not to put too fine a point upon it, Eldan was a spy, and but for a single slip, had never once alerted even the Priest-Mages to his true identity.

  Kero wasn’t in her quarters; neither she nor Eldan were particularly pleased when Alberich interrupted them by pounding insistently in a coded knock on Eldan’s door.

  “I don’t smell smoke and the Collegium isn’t on fire, so this had better be at least that important, Alberich,” Kero growled, cracking the door only enough so that Alberich caught a glimpse of tousled hair and an angry blue eye in the light of a hall candle.

  “It is,” he said. “A friendly visit I have had, from—Gerich’s outKingdom visitor.”

  Kero blinked. “Friendly?” she said dubiously.

  “Very friendly. Unbelievably friendly. This cannot wait until morning. I think it should not wait a candlemark.”

  “Right. I heard that,” said Eldan’s voice from deeper in the room. “Give us a little; we’ll be right on your heels and meet you in your rooms at the salle. Outside of the Queen’s suite, you’ve got the most secure quarters in the complex.”

  Alberich nodded and left them to put themselves back together in peace. Poor Kero! Eldan was only just back from his latest covert foray into Karse—which was how Alberich had known just who Karchanek really was—and already business had interrupted their time together.

  But when had that not been the case with a Herald? Add to which, Kerowyn had been the Captain of her own Guild Mercenary Company, so she should be used to being interrupted by now. She might not like it, but she should be used to it. She’s been a mercenary for twice as long as she’s been a Herald; Business always comes first for them, he told himself. In fact, when they arrived at his door, he doubted there would be a single word said about what he’d just interrupted.

  Nor was there, and the pair were, as Eldan had said, just about on his heels; he wasn’t more than half of the way back to the salle when he looked back and saw the two white-clad figures emerging from Heralds’ Wing. He’d barely gotten inside his own door and heard from Myste that if there had been any tampering with the missive she couldn’t find it, when they arrived at his door, as neatly turned-out as if they’d just come from standing guard at a Court ceremony.

  Alberich explained the situation to them in a few terse sentences and handed over the letter and its tube. Kero examined the tube; Eldan, who was second only to Alberich and Myste in his mastery of Karsite, scanned it quickly and whistled.

  “Well, that explains something—” he said, “—why on this last time, even the most reactionary of the oldguard were being v-e-r-y careful to be good little boys, and if they had any complaints about the new Son of the Sun, keeping them behind their own teeth.”

  Alberich shook his head. “Understand, I do not,” he confessed.

  “It’s quite simple, and a bit scary, old man,” Eldan replied, handing the letter on to Kero as they both took the seats so recently vacated by the visitors from Karse. “I’d heard all the stories about Solaris, but I hadn’t talked to any eyewitnesses—not that it would be likely I could, since my contacts don’t reside in such lofty circles. Still, the stories were all of a piece, and the Sun-priests were suddenly all acting like they’d put heart and soul into the reform movement. Karchanek’s eyewitness account just clinches it.” He glanced over at Kero. “Doesn’t it, love?”

  Kerowyn nodded. “No doubt in my mind. Wherever He’s been for the last couple of hundred years, Vkandis is back now in Karse, and He’s cracking heads and taking names. Just like the Star-Eyed. Remember, I’ve seen this before, in my grandmother’s Shin’a’in clan.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Mind, the Star-Eyed usually operates through Her spirit-riders and Avatars, but maybe that’s what this Firecat is, a spirit-rider equivalent.”

  Alberich went very, very still. Of all the things he had hoped for to happen in Karse, this, if true, was the best and the least likely. It might be frightening for Valdemarans, who had no history of direct intervention by their gods, but for a Karsite this would be the return of things to their proper ways, ways long since lost beneath the centuries of rule by a corrupt and cruel priesthood. “You are certain?” he asked carefully.

  “I’ve heard all of Kero’s stories, and factoring in the atmosphere down there right now—well, I’m as certain as I can be without walking into the Temple there and demanding Solaris conjure up a miracle to prove it to me,” Eldan said firmly. “Not that I’d give that approach a try. From what I’ve heard of the lady, she’s got a pretty dry sense of humor, and might decide to ask Vkandis to teach me a little proper humility.”

  Alberich closed his eyes for a moment. What, exactly, is one supposed to do when the prayers of a lifetime are so fully answered?

  :Be properly grateful,: said his Companion Kantor. :And don’t question why it has taken the God so long to act. That wouldn’t be a good idea.:

  Kantor’s reply startled him further. This statement, from a Companion, had a weight that went far beyond the simple words.

  :There was probably something about Free Will involved,: Alberich replied, voicing the thoughts that had occurred to him in the dark of the night. :And making our own mistakes. : Free Will figured largely in the theology of the older texts—the ones dating from before the Son of the Sun became the tacit ruler of all Karse and the priesthood began conjuring demons to enforce their will.

  :And, just possibly, there was something about waiting to be properly asked to step in, prayers of the faithful and all that,: Kantor amended. :Gods don’t go where they aren’t invited, not the ones we’d call “good,” anyway. After all, as long as people seemed to be content to putting up with things as they were, there would be no reason for
Vkandis to intervene.:

  :That would be the “Free Will” part,: Alberich reminded his Companion.

  Kantor ignored the interruption. :Vkandis, I suspect, has been dealing with wrongdoers on an individual basis once they died and were in His hands and in no position to dispute the error of their ways. I suppose even a God who intervenes regularly in the lives of His people cannot build a paradise in the world, since everyone would have a different idea of what paradise should be. But then again, I could be wrong.:

  Alberich found that last statement difficult to believe. Oh, perhaps another Companion could be wrong, but Kantor had never so much as missed a single hoof-step in all the time Alberich had known him. Kantor never spoke unless he had something of import to say.

  And Companions were not unlike Firecats. . . . Could they, as it was said of the Firecats, be able to pass the sincere prayer directly into the ear of a God?

  His prayer? His God? What was it that Kantor had said—“the prayers of the faithful?” Was this, in part, due to him?

  No. He would not even think that. Coincidence, merely, and he would confine himself to rejoicing that things had changed in his lifetime. Events had turned to the redemption of his land. A new Son of the Sun, more like in spirit to those of the old days, sat on the Sun Throne. And if he could trust this overture, then perhaps there would be peace between Valdemar and Karse as there had been, in the old days, the times he had read about in long-forgotten histories in the Queen’s library.

  If it wasn’t all a cunning trap. If he could somehow convince Herald Talia, who had already been through more than anyone should have to endure, to walk into the wolf’s mouth a second time.

  :It isn’t Talia you’ll have to convince,: observed Kantor shrewdly, :but her husband. And the Queen.:

  Oh, yes. There was Dirk to convince as well. And Selenay. Neither of whom were going to be as ready to agree to this as Talia.