The Eclipse of the Zon - First Tremors (The New Eartha Chronicles Book 2)

by R. M. Burgess

  “Nitya, don’t speak to me of class,” he said, sounding remorseful. “I am a bastard. I have no pedigree. I am in no position to look down on anyone.”

  “But here you are a royal!” she snapped. “The nephew of King Lothar!”

  “You styled me thus,” he protested. “I would never have claimed that connection.” He tried to put his hand on her arm, but she drew away. “I had no wish to hurt you. Quite the reverse.”

  “Well, if this is what you can do without trying, then I pray to never face your malice,” she retorted. She crossed her arms over her breast and hugged herself tightly. She continued in a low tone, almost muttering to herself, “Anyway, the fault was mine, not yours. It was wrong of me to presume to be your sister. I am a Yengar, the butt of everyone’s hatred. I have no right to expect kindness from you.”

  “You are being unfair, Nitya,” he remonstrated. “At least listen to my side.”

  She leaned back on a crenel and waited for him to speak. The breeze played with her hair and gave it a wind-blown look. The loose “gown” that the hands had created for her could not completely conceal her curves, and her green-hazel eyes were half-closed, emphasizing her striking looks. Everything had become so complicated; how could he explain himself?

  “Nitya, you are more than attractive,” he began. “To my eye, you are a woman of rare beauty. But—”

  “You must do better than that, Greghar,” she cut in indifferently. “You forget that I have been flirted with and flattered by many Utrean noblemen. ‘You gorgeous thing, come to my bed, be my mistress, and I will cover you with jewels.’ I have heard these words many times before. The more I refused them, the harder they tried. I knew they cared nothing for me—it was just a contest, for the first one to bed me would win such acclaim for his manhood! But in spite of what Kitara said, my virtue is intact. I do not ask you to believe me, for there are many in Nordberg who boast of taking my virginity.”

  He clenched in fists in frustration.

  “Oh, hang what Kitara said!” he exclaimed. “I do not doubt your virtue for an instant.” He paused to marshal his thoughts and started again. “When I saw you in the Sea Parlor of Estrans Castle, I could not believe how much you had changed. I treasured my memories of you as a child, someone that I tickled and laughed with and loved as a baby sister. I had a hard time adjusting to your striking new avatar, as I wished for the girl I had cuddled in my cloak in the cave on the Sawtooth Range.”

  “I tried to be that girl, Greghar,” said Nitya. “And to respect what I thought was your love for Princess Caitlin. I was ashamed of my feelings for you because I thought I was betraying her. But I see now that I need not have worried.”

  “I have told you before, and I will tell you again,” he said doggedly. “I do not ask to be placed on a pedestal, for I am no saint. I have had my fair share of women, and I make no apologies. As for Princess Caitlin, to her I am just a low barbarian, far beneath her—she told me so herself. If ever there was warmth between us, it has long cooled. We are nothing to each other now.”

  They stood together for a while in uncomfortable silence.

  “Try to see it from my perspective, Nitya,” said Greghar finally. “The girl I knew was a powerless waif who needed my protection. When you first used your power at the Ice Bridge, it nearly killed you. Now you burn men alive without a second thought and effortlessly use telekinesis. You fluently project yourself into others’ minds, bending them to your will. You say you are not a witch, but I am damned if I can see the difference.”

  He paused for breath before continuing.

  “Of course I wish to return to the closeness we shared, Nitya. But I am also afraid of the woman you have become. You are so powerful now that I am just a tool in your hands.”

  Nitya looked at him steadily without speaking. He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise. When she spoke, her voice was flat.

  “Whereas Kitara makes you feel strong and manly, doesn’t she? Will she give up her husband’s wealth and title to share your exile?”

  “I do not ask that of her,” said Greghar. “But she has offered to take us to Tirut in her carrack if we will wait another week. That is when she returns to her husband.”

  “You may stay and enjoy the favors of your paramour,” said Nitya angrily. “I will leave in the Darling Thoma as soon as she is ready to sail.”

  “Her carrack is much bigger and faster than the Darling Thoma,” said Greghar, coaxing. “We will get to Tirut sooner if we go with her, even though we leave later.”

  “I will not sail in a ship with her!” Nitya’s tone was resentful.

  “Nitya, be reasonable,” said Greghar. “You don’t need me anymore. Why do you begrudge me a little fling?”

  Her head snapped back as though he had struck her. Her shoulders slumped and all the fight went out of her.

  “You don’t see, do you?” she whispered. “Vasitha has warned me again and again—it is a sin to use power for worldly ends. I have blackened my soul. I have distanced myself from the grace of Lord Moksha. But every time I used my power, it was for you.” She did not sob, but large tears formed in her eyes and slowly coursed down her cheeks.

  He took a step toward her to comfort her, but she put up her hand. He stopped short with a look of dread, as though he expected her to burn him. He really fears me, she thought miserably. Have I really changed so much?

  “Go!” she said. “Go to her. I cannot give you what she can.”

  GREGHAR STOOD ON the same spot on the battlements two days later, looking down on the harbor. The Darling Thoma was slowly making her way toward the open sea. He squinted, trying to focus on the tiny, antlike figures on the deck. It was no use—they were too far away for him to recognize anyone. Feeling slightly foolish, he raised his right hand and waved, hoping that one of the tiny figures was Nitya and that she would wave back. But he could discern no response.

  He had felt extremely low since his conversation with Nitya. She had taken great pains to avoid being alone with him again and left to return to the ship that same afternoon. Emotional, melodramatic woman! he thought. I never promised to be a celibate. I have acted no differently than any red-blooded soldier of fortune. Yet she acts as though I have betrayed Princess Caitlin, a woman who has probably long forgotten that I exist. But no matter how many times he ran this through his mind, he could not assuage his feelings of guilt.

  “Why so thoughtful, love?” Kitara’s voice intruded on his thoughts. He was jerked out of his reverie and saw her leaning on the same crenel that Nitya had leaned on, looking at him languorously. She put out her arms. “Come hold me, the breeze is a bit chilly, and my gown is thin.”

  He obeyed and held her. The feeling of her body was enjoyable, but his pleasure was soured by the view of the Darling Thoma over her shoulder. She sensed his uneasiness and guessed its source.

  “Don’t worry about her, love,” Kitara said, snuggling up against him. “She is just a teasing hypocrite who wants to keep you dancing to her tune. If you ignore her, she will come running back to your bed.”

  SIX

  FIRST STRIKES

  ASGARA WAS UNFAILINGLY polite but cool in her dealings with Andromache. The High Priestess showered her with affection and presents, but her busy schedule meant that she could not give her much time. Asgara was usually picked up from Temple Heights Nursery by Andromache’s handmaiden and spent many evenings at Palace Saxe tended by the staff. She had been used to telling Megara every detail of her day, and having her hang on every word. Now she was almost always asleep by the time Andromache came home. From being the center of Megara’s world, she found herself a minor satellite of Andromache’s constellation.

  However, this was a weekend, and Andromache had personally gone to spend time with Asgara in the Palace Saxe nursery. She had brought her own katsch and a glass of warm milk for Asgara, who sat drinking it in silence.

  “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” asked Andromache. “My mother and I would often sit toget
her in this very nursery when I was a little girl.”

  “On nice days, my mother would take my sister and me into the mountains for picnics,” replied Asgara. “I always made her dive off cliffs in the speeder. It was so much fun!”

  “Typical dangerous huntress exploits,” said Andromache with a sniff. “And most inappropriate for young girls.”

  “My mother would never endanger us,” responded Asgara with spirit.

  “Well, my dear,” said Andromache, changing the subject. “You and I are doing something very exciting this evening. We have been invited to dine with the queen!”

  “She said that my mother is a fine example,” said Asgara. “I pointed her out when the queen came to Temple Heights Nursery.”

  The constant references to Megara as her mother grated on Andromache’s nerves. She had to remind herself that the little girl was not trying to bait her.

  “I work closely with the queen,” said Andromache. “I am her foremost adviser. Seignora Megara is just a—”

  She stopped, sheepishly realizing that she was trying to impress Asgara, competing with Megara for her affection. She drained her katsch and stood up.

  “I have a surprise for you,” she said. “I have bought you a beautiful new outfit for our visit to the queen. You will look so pretty in it!”

  She tapped her wrist bracer, and a few moments later her handmaiden entered, bearing the new outfit. It was a child’s size version of a formal adult gown, beautifully cut and finished. It was far prettier than the simple clothing that Megara used to dress her in.

  She looked at the gown suspiciously.

  “That is not mine,” she said.

  “I had it made for you. They used one of your dresses as a pattern for size.” She ran her fingers over the soft fabric. “It is musk-lace. It will caress your skin. Try it on.”

  “I did not wear special clothes when I met the queen before. My mother said that those who are impressed by fine clothes are not worth impressing.”

  Andromache was tempted to say something cutting about Megara, but she held her tongue.

  “We show our respect for the queen by arriving in her presence suitably dressed. Not every little girl is invited to dine at Chateau Regina. You are very lucky to have this opportunity.”

  Asgara finally consented to Andromache’s handmaiden dressing her in the new gown. She stood before the three-dimensional mirror and scowled.

  “I look silly,” she said.

  “Oh nonsense, dear,” said Andromache. “You look fabulous, a very proper heiress to the d’Orr tiara.”

  Asgara’s scowl deepened.

  “I am a Paurina, not a d’Orr,” she said.

  Andromache wisely did not respond but let her handmaiden finish dressing Asgara and lead her to the speeder. They were driven to Chateau Regina in silence.

  ALEX LED THEM into a reception room of the residential north wing of Chateau Regina. Hildegard received them there herself, dressed semiformally, as though she had just returned from work. However, the atmosphere was very relaxed. She greeted Andromache as an equal. When she addressed Asgara, she did not stoop or pick her up but spoke to her as she would to an adult.

  “Lady Asgara, I am so happy you are able to accept my invitation,” she said. “I trust you are well?”

  Asgara curtsied as she had been taught at Temple Heights Nursery.

  “I am well, Your Majesty,” she said. She looked into Hildegard’s gray-blue eyes and seemed to struggle with herself before blurting out, “But I miss my mother, Seignora Megara, and my sister, Iantha.”

  Hildegard put her hand on Asgara’s shoulder and squeezed it. They seemed instantly at ease with each other.

  “Come, supper is laid out on the balcony,” said Hildegard. “Our chef will be expecting us to be there by now.” She leaned to speak to Asgara in a mock whisper. “I dance to everyone’s tune here, Asgara. I am not my own mistress.” She straightened. “Isn’t that true, Alex?”

  “It is always a pleasure to serve you, ma’am,” said Alex. Her words were formal, but her tone was warm. “You are very easy on us.”

  They followed Alex out on to Hildegard’s large private balcony. Alex pulled a chair out for the queen and indicated chairs for Andromache and Asgara. The chair for Asgara was prepared with a booster on it.

  “Thank you, Alex,” said Hildegard, and her First Handmaiden withdrew.

  The supper laid out was sumptuous but prepared specially with a child in mind. However, Asgara waited till the queen asked her to help herself and then served herself a decorously small portion of each item. She waited till the queen and Andromache served themselves. Only when the queen urged her to eat did she take the first bite.

  “Asgara is very excited to meet you again, ma’am,” said Andromache, feeling left out of the wordless intimacy between Hildegard and Asgara. “She was telling me about how she met you when you visited Temple Heights Nursery.”

  “Yes,” said Hildegard. “She pointed out her mother to me. Seignora Megara is such fine officer, is she not? An impressive military record and such striking good looks as well!”

  “Iantha and I have the best mother,” said Asgara, nodding. “She was always the first to arrive for pick-up at Temple Heights Nursery. All the other girls used to envy us.”

  “I make sure my handmaiden is there every day precisely on time for pick-up,” said Andromache, sensing an unspoken rebuke.

  They finished eating, and Hildegard suggested that they move to a comfortable arbor at the edge of the balcony, overlooking the city. The queen seated herself and looked up at Asgara.

  “Will you sit by me, Lady Asgara?” she asked.

  Asgara did not answer but smiled and plopped down beside Hildegard. The queen looked down on her fondly. Andromache sat facing them, not quite sure what to make of their spontaneous closeness. Hildegard had never been particularly close to Caitlin.

  “Well, my dear, I have a surprise for you,” said Hildegard. “Your mother is in Atlantic City. I have invited her here to see you.”

  Asgara’s eyes went wide. She looked from Hildegard to Andromache and back again, suspecting a joke or a trick. Hildegard stroked Asgara’s ash-blonde curls, thinking, Who could ever have predicted that Deirdre and I would share a granddaughter! She tapped her wrist bracer, opening a comm channel to Alex.

  “Alex, I take it she has arrived?” she asked. “Please bring her out to see us.”

  Asgara waited with bated breath. The portal hissed open and Alex entered.

  “Seignora Megara Paurina of the Cohort of Palace Guardians,” she announced, and withdrew as soon as Megara entered.

  Asgara squealed, leaped to her feet, and raced forward. She threw herself into Megara’s waiting arms. Her legal mother picked her up and hugged her tight. Neither spoke, but their joy was plain to see. Hildegard looked on benignly.

  After a few moments, Megara put Asgara down and saluted Hildegard, hand on heart. Then she bowed formally to Andromache.

  “I apologize for my lack of self control, Your Highness, High Priestess,” said Megara. “I meant no disrespect.”

  “What kind of a society would we be if we decried a mother’s love for her daughter?” asked Hildegard, smiling.

  Asgara held Megara’s arm tightly and beamed at Hildegard. Then she looked up and immediately saw through Megara’s attempt to conceal her look of worry.

  “What is the matter, Mother?” she asked.

  “Nothing, my love,” said Megara.

  “Come, come,” said Hildegard. “Please sit with us. Will you take some supper, Seignora?”

  “I had a bite on my way over,” lied Megara, seeing that they had already eaten. She sat down, and Asgara immediately climbed into her lap and put her arms possessively around her waist.

  “How did the trial go, Seignora Megara?” asked Andromache.

  Megara ran her fingers through her thick hair distractedly.

  “It could have been better,” she replied.

  “What tria
l?” asked Asgara.

  “It is nothing, my darling—” began Megara.

  “You are a very bright and perceptive girl, dearest Asgara,” cut in Andromache. “Seignora Megara has persisted in keeping the truth from you. But I really think it is best for you to know that facts.”

  “I have not…” Megara’s retort trailed off, and she sat back, weary and resigned.

  “Tyla Dorrina, one of your d’Orr relatives, is challenging Seignora Megara’s status as your legal mother,” said Andromache. “The wealth and comforts of your life in Palace d’Orr are yours to inherit from your real mother, Princess Caitlin. Tyla’s relationship to you is quite distant—she is descended from a younger daughter of your ancestor Princess Iren, making her your fourth cousin. But she believes her blood gives her a stronger claim to care for you and use the d’Orr fortune.”

  “I am not a d’Orr,” said Asgara, her voice growing shrill. “I am a Paurina and Seignora Megara is my mother. Let them take Palace d’Orr and everything in it! I will live with my mother, if we have to camp in the wilderness.”

  “Asgara, Asgara, you are being silly,” said Andromache gently. She turned to Megara. “Tell us about the trial. Was judgment rendered today?’

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Megara. She kissed the top of Asgara’s head. “The judge ruled that the tradition laid down by Queen Simran with regard to Temple Heights supersedes the title Princess Caitlin has given me to her assets. Since I am not an aristocrat, I can no longer reside in Palace d’Orr.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No, ma’am,” said Megara. “She ruled that the d’Orr estate is indivisible, so she also struck down Caitlin’s transfer of her assets to me. But Tyla Dorrina is a commoner—she is not even an electra—so the judge awarded her nothing but an official note of commendation for bringing the matter to the attention of the court. All d’Orr assets are frozen and all incomes will accumulate untouched until either Princess Caitlin returns or Lady Asgara comes of age.”

  Hildegard cast a glance at Andromache so fleeting that no one noticed it. The High Priestess sat primly with her legs crossed, hands on her knee, one on top of the other. She had a cool smile on her face and looked the very picture of aristocratic elegance. I know that look, thought Hildegard.