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

by R. M. Burgess

  “You’re a sweet boy, Noki,” she said. “It’s not your fault that you are retarded. It’s your mother’s fault, for she should have taken care of things when you were conceived and never had you.”

  Lidill’s temper snapped and she slapped Asgara so hard that she fell off of her chair.

  “I don’t care that the chevalina is paying for your room and board!” she screamed. “I will not have you talking about my son like that!” She hugged Noki to her breast. “What do you know about him? He is the sweetest, best-natured child in the world. I wouldn’t trade him for a hundred nasty bitches like you.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Noki,” she continued to her son in a soft voice. She shook her head angrily and hugged him tighter. “She is a spoiled, rotten girl. You will always stay with Mama.”

  Asgara put a hand to her face where an imprint of Lidill’s hand was beginning to form. The blow was hard enough to disorient her, and the sharp pain drew spontaneous tears. It took a few moments for her to raise herself off the floor.

  “You were cruel to bring poor Noki into this world!” she cried heatedly. “Don’t you see how all the other children pick on him? Just this afternoon, they held his head in the horse trough—they would have drowned him if I hadn’t stopped them. And for all your airs of respectability, you are just a whore from the gutter!”

  “How dare you! Everyone knows that I am a respectable war widow. My husband was an honorable soldier, a fearless warrior. He was the only one brave enough to go after Princess Ice herself during the Battle of Aurora. His comrades were afraid of Zon magic and hung back, so he had to face her in single combat. They said she used sorcery to kill him.”

  Anger and her throbbing face made Asgara reckless.

  “Then he was a failure!” she spat out. “It was my grandmother who killed your husband! All she had was her sword, and he was fully armed; I have read the whole story, many times.”

  Lidill grew still and the room became very quiet. Noki tried to hold on to his mother, but she silently disengaged herself and stood up. Asgara backed away toward the kitchen door as Lidill picked up a wicked looking knife from the chopping board and turned to her.

  “You Zon bitch!” she hissed, advancing with the knife blade in front of her. “I should have known!”

  Just then there was the sound of the front door, and Rator stumped into the house. He stood at the kitchen door, looking at the scene and hooked his thumbs in his sword belt.

  “What is going on?” he asked quietly. “What are you doing with the knife?”

  “Asgara said Mama should never have had me,” Noki piped up. “What did she mean, Rator Karsk?”

  “Nothing that need concern you,” said Rator without looking at him. He looked at Lidill. “Did you strike her?”

  “Yes,” she replied sulkily. She put up her hand, level with her nose. “I am fed up to here with her lip.”

  “I see. Well, don’t worry, you won’t have her on your hands for much longer.”

  He adjusted his sword and sat at the table. Lidill brought him a fresh bowl of gruel, hunks of black bread, and a mug of beer. He waited for her to seat herself opposite him before he began to eat. He ate and drank with delicacy, a marked contrast to Lidill, who shoveled the gruel into her mouth and made guzzling sounds as she drank her tea.

  As they were eating, Asgara went over to Noki. She put her arms around him and whispered in his ear, “I was angry with your Mama, Noki, not with you. You are my friend.”

  Noki hugged her back.

  “I love you, Asgara,” he said. “You are my only friend!”

  “Where is our son?” Rator asked Lidill as they were eating.

  “Vitor is asleep,” Lidill responded with her mouth full. “It is late for him, you know.”

  “Has the girl eaten?”

  “I am sick and tired of trying to get her to do anything,” said Lidill with spirit. “She complains constantly about the food, her bed, the smells, everything!”

  Rator turned to Asgara.

  “You know where your bed is, child,” he said, his tone level. “If you are not feeling well enough to eat, go to bed. I know it is a hard bed, but it is the best we can do for the moment.”

  Asgara stood and began to leave the kitchen without a word, with one hand on her cheek where Lidill had struck her. Noki followed her like a little puppy.

  “One more thing,” he called after her. She stopped and turned around. “Can you ride a horse?”

  Her face finally broke into a smile.

  “I love to ride,” she said. “I ride very well. All the grooms say that I have one of the best seats in school.”

  “All the grooms…” mimicked Lidill.

  “Go to bed,” said Rator. “And can you be a dear and help Noki to bed as well? He may have wet himself. He should be changed before he goes to bed.”

  “I am sure I can,” said Asgara. “I often changed my sister, though that was when she was very little.”

  “No, no, I will put him to bed,” remonstrated Lidill, getting to her feet. “I can’t trust my Noki to this little witch.”

  Rator stood and put his arm around Lidill’s waist.

  “I am sure she will take good care of him. Won’t you, child?” Asgara nodded and led Noki away.

  A look of sorrow crossed Lidill’s face. “Every day I miss my dear daughter, Daril. She took such good care of Noki; I thought his future was secure. I often rage at the One God for taking her. For who will provide for poor Noki when I am gone?”

  Rator was not listening. His lips were on Lidill’s throat, and his hands slipped under her blouse to caress her full breasts.

  “I have to leave later tonight,” he breathed. “But we have a few hours to say good-bye.”

  Lidill’s mind was elsewhere, and Rator’s excitement was rapidly spent. Neither of them got much pleasure out of it. She waited impatiently for his breathing to slow and grow even. Then she cautiously reached over and pulled aside a corner of the thin curtain. In the shaft of white moonlight that shone in, she satisfied herself that Rator was asleep. She slid out of bed as softly as she could and padded to the kitchen. Armed with the sharp kitchen knife, she crept into the small storeroom where Asgara’s narrow bed lay on the floor.

  Lidill was by the bed when a premonition brought Asgara awake. She saw the blade of Lidill’s knife glinting the moonlight and opened her mouth to scream. Lidill fell on her, choking off her cries with her left hand while she raised her right to strike. Asgara struggled and tried to twist away, all the while dreading the bite of the knife. Lidill cursed under her breath as she tried to keep the girl still as well as quiet so she could stab her.

  AS FOOD AND wine flowed freely, the guests demanded more lively music, and the dancing grew more vigorous. Eventually most of them began to tire. Beginning with the elderly, they started to come up to Nehemus and take their leave. With timing born of experience, Greghar and Nitya waited for a decorous moment to pay their respects and take their leave of their hosts.

  Nehemus stood by a window in the dining parlor with Jagus and Kitara by his side. Jagus felt as though he, rather than his father, was the third wheel, and he wore a sulky expression. Greghar and Nitya approached and made their bows.

  “Allow me to express my heartfelt gratitude for your kind invitation, my lord,” said Greghar. “It has been a dazzling ball and we have had a wonderful time. I have much to report to my uncle.”

  Nitya stood mute and demure, as was expected of a well-bred girl.

  “Lord Greghar, it has been our honor to have you. I hope that we see you again and often. You will always find a welcome at Tirut Castle.”

  They were about to turn to leave, when Kitara broke with protocol and spoke up.

  “Lord Greghar, I see that you have good offices with high-ranking Zon like Lady Death. I wonder if I may meet with you privately to discuss issues of mutual benefit.”

  Nehemus put his arm around her shoulders and looked down on her approvingly.


  “I am at your ladyship’s service,” said Greghar.

  With that they made their way out through the great hall of the castle into the bailey. A harried steward was calling for the carriages of impatient departing guests, each one thinking that their own departure was more important than that of anyone else. Greghar towered above the mass of guests and the steward noticed him immediately. Recognizing him as the personal guest of Kitara and knowing that he would be conveyed in one of the great va Alsor coaches, he sent footmen to bring it around ahead of all the other queuing vehicles. Greghar and Nitya drew irritated glances as they were ushered forward and handed into the coach, superseding a long line of waiting worthies.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” asked Greghar as soon as they began rolling.

  Nitya reclined in the plush silk cushions and let out a sigh.

  “I know you will think me shallow, but I cannot help enjoying luxury,” she said. “Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of dancing at a great ball.”

  “Did it live up to your expectations?”

  “It did and more. To tell you the truth, I was afraid you would be ashamed of escorting a girl dressed in a gown made of oddments.”

  “You were the belle of the ball, Nitya. Surely you saw the looks you got.”

  “Only because I was with you,” she said, teasing. “For I know my looks are unusual. But every woman wished she were in my shoes. Especially your lady love, Chevalina Kitara.”

  Greghar flushed and looked out the window. They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “You were right,” he said, turning toward her and taking both her hands in his. “Kitara is a desirable woman, but it was my vanity that made me yield to that temptation. I know now that I would rather be the slave of Princess Caitlin than the consort of any other lady in the One Land.”

  Nitya did not crow but gently extricated her hands and put them on his cheeks.

  “You must tell her that you love her.”

  “What would be the use of that? She was furious when she saw me with Kitara at the inn. She will never forgive me now.”

  “You men are so stupid!” exclaimed Nitya. “If she did not love you, she would not care that you carried on with another woman.”

  “But she is Zon. They never associate with native men.”

  Nitya looked at him astutely.

  “Greghar, you of all people know that is not true.”

  CAITLIN SAT IN a nook of the bar parlor of the Three Feathers, nursing a beer. It was quite late and both Binne and Dhanraj had retired, but the inn was still very lively. The va Alsor Ball had affected the whole city. It seemed like every innkeeper had engaged musicians and put on a party to take part in the celebrations in the castle.

  There was a group of fiddlers playing a spritely tune backing a pair of singers, a man and a woman. The small dance floor of rough and pitted planks was crowded. Almost everyone was quite tipsy now. The mood was cheerful and the talk raucous. Caitlin had already turned down over a dozen invitations to dance. Now once again, a young buck caught her wrist and strove to drag her out, saying, “It is a crime to have such a pretty wench sitting through this party!”

  She twisted her wrist free without difficulty, causing him to stagger back into the arms of his fellows. She smiled at him sweetly and said, “I am not much of dancer, sir. It would be shameful to waste your talents on me.”

  He was in too good a mood to take offense, and her smile mollified him further.

  “You are the finest-looking woman I have ever seen,” he said, raising his glass to her. “Just standing up with you would make me happy. Well, if you change your mind, I am available.”

  She was still smiling at the lad when over his shoulder she saw Greghar and Nitya enter. They stood at the edge of the parlor for a while, scanning the mass of people. Finally Greghar saw her, nudged Nitya, and they both came over, threading their way through the crowd.

  “I am so happy to see you,” said Nitya as they came up to the nook. She had to lean close to Caitlin to be heard above the hubbub in the bar. She bent forward and pecked Caitlin on the cheek. However, as she did so, Caitlin spontaneously put her arms around her and enveloped her in a hug.

  “You have grown into a beautiful woman,” she said. “I barely recognized you when I saw you here the other day. I hope that I may see some more of you.”

  “I apologize,” replied Nitya. “It was not from lack of desire. We have been kept very occupied by our hosts at Tirut Castle.”

  “How was the va Alsor Ball?”

  “I will let Greghar tell you all about it, for I am very tired. I hope that I may wait on you tomorrow.”

  She turned and left them together, glancing over her shoulder a few times. The musicians finished their set, the dancing stopped, and the general buzz of conversation grew louder. Watching Nitya’s retreating back gave them both a cover for the awkward silence. Once she disappeared out the door, they looked at each other with contrasting expressions. Caitlin’s was cool and distant, while Greghar’s was a mixture of discomfort and wistfulness.

  “Princess Caitlin—” he began, but she silenced him with a gesture.

  “I am Cat Avedus. For all practical purposes, Princess Caitlin has ceased to exist. In a few years, she will be declared legally dead, and that will be the end of her.”

  Nitya’s words were fresh in Greghar’s mind, and Caitlin’s coldness made him reckless.

  “She exists for me,” he said. “Princess Caitlin is very real to me, for I love her more than life itself. Caitlin, on my honor—”

  “Indeed, I thought you were a man of honor,” she interrupted, bitterness seeping into her voice. “But I found that you are only a man, after all.”

  “My honor is my word,” he retorted. “My word once given is never broken.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but he put up his hand.

  “But I cannot keep a vow that has never been made.”

  “I see,” she said. “I thought that love implied a vow of exclusive regard. How foolish of me!”

  She took a pull of her beer and averted her eyes from him. In so doing, she saw Yandharan enter the bar. She waved to him over Greghar’s shoulder. He waved back and came to join them. He bowed formally to Greghar, eliciting one in return.

  “Mantan, I am so happy to see you,” she said. “I pray that you will have a drink with me.”

  Yandharan looked from Greghar to Caitlin and back again, sensing the tension. He looked doubtful.

  “I do not want to interrupt anything,” he said.

  “No, no, Greghar was just leaving. Weren’t you, Greghar?”

  “Yes, Cat Avedus. I was just leaving.”

  Yandharan saw the look of defeat on Greghar’s face. He looked back at Caitlin. He was perceptive enough to see that she was using him to hurt Greghar. But his desire for her overcame his wounded pride.

  “In that case, I will join you,” said Yandharan, taking a seat by Caitlin.

  Before Greghar could leave, the musicians returned and the male singer rapped a tabletop to get everyone’s attention. After a few moments, the volume of conversations eased, and he spoke up in a loud voice.

  “We will begin our next set with a lovely ballad from the Northern Marches. I first heard it when I was up there, touring the Thal River Valley. It tells of the age-old story of a man’s love for a woman that grows in spite of the rift between their tribes. I hope you enjoy it.”

  The fiddlers raised their bows, struck up the opening notes and he began to sing.

  When I look into your eyes

  I see forever

  When you look into my eyes

  You will see

  That I am your man.

  When I saw you in my dreams

  I knew we were meant to be

  I know that to you this all seems

  So wrong, and I agree.

  But I am your man.

  Let us make a vow

  No matter that the world is against us

  To
believe in each other and somehow

  Create from two, a oneness

  For I am your man.

  As the ballad began, Greghar was frozen into place. He turned back to Caitlin, and saw that she was looking at him too. The singer’s voice had a magical quality and the ballad transported both of them back to their first meeting in Upper Thal when he had been willing to lay down his life for a woman he had just met. Images flashed through her mind of their time together, of riding, joking and sparring with him. She recalled the way he looked at her, the same look that was on his face right now. It was the look that she had treasured over their long years of separation. The coldness slowly drained out of her eyes.

  “I loved you from the first moment I saw you,” said Greghar, unmindful of Yandharan’s presence.

  “Why did you refuse me, then?” she whispered. “And if you love me, why did you betray me with another?”

  “I was a fool,” he said, his anger self-directed. “A proud fool, a vain fool. But I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  Yandharan quietly turned to leave.

  “Mantan,” she called after him. “Please do not think ill of me. You are dear to me, but—”

  He stopped and turned back to her.

  “How could I ever think ill of you, dearest Cat?” he asked. “When I pursued you, you told me the truth, that you loved another. I am glad that you did, for my dearest wish is for you to be happy and—” here he paused and smiled as he paraphrased the ballad, “—it is clear that I am not your man.”

  Now he did leave. He turned at the door of the bar and gave both of them a snappy wave before stepping out.

  Greghar stood with his thumbs in his sword belt.

  “Collector Yandharan is a good man, an honest man,” he said. “And he is a man of means. All I have are my heart, my arm and my sword, but I offer them all to you. My heart is true, my arm is strong, and my sword is—”

  “Karya, and I gave it to you,” she said, with a sudden laugh. It broke the serious mood and he smiled. “Come into my nook and put your arm around me, Greghar. I know it is a sin to desire you…and I am stupid to trust you. But I love you.”