by sun sword
* * *
The Finest in Fantasy by Michelle West
The Sacred Hunt
HUNTER'S OATH
HUNTER'S DEATH
The Sun Sword
THE BROKEN CROWN
THE UNCROWNED KING
THE SHINING COURT
SEA OF SORROWS
THE RIVEN SHIELD
THE SUN SWORD
* * *
The Broken Crown
(The Sun Sword: Book One)
Michelle West
* * *
DAW BOOKS, INC.
DONALD A. WQLLHEIM, FOUNDER
375 Hudson Street. New York. NY 10014
ELIZABETH R. WOLLHEIM
SHEILA E. GILBERT
PUBLISHERS
Copyright © 1997 by Michelle Sagara.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Jody Lee.
For color prints of Jody Lee's paintings, please contact:
The Cerridwen Enterprise
P.O. Box 10161 Kansas City, MO 64111 Phone:1-800-825-1281
Map by Michael Gilbert.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1061.
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
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First Printing, July, 1997 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
— MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
* * *
For Thomas, Because Kiriel was always for you.
* * *
Contents
Acknowledgments
Dramatis Personae
Prologue:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE.
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
* * *
Acknowledgments
Ken and Tami Sagara made the writing of this book possible, period. If I start to list everything they do, I'll feel like I'm a child, not their child, although I admit the distinction in their minds has probably blurred more than it should have by now.
Thomas made the writing possible, because he offers me both encouragement and advice without being either cloying or hurtful—and for this book, I needed a lot of both. And everything else that gets taken for granted when I'm in the middle of obsessive writerly vision.
Kelly Sagara read the page proofs when I was too sick to do so—which takes a special fortitude all its own—and because of her help, I didn't miss what otherwise would have been an impossible deadline.
And Sheila Gilbert made the writing of this book as difficult as possible—because when she's right, she doesn't give up; she cares about the book. Which, in my humble opinion, is exactly what an editor should do. I hope I lived up to the challenges she set.
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Annagarian Ranks
Tyr'agar - Ruler of the Dominion
Tyr'agnate - Ruler of one of the five Terreans of the Dominion
Tyr - The Tyr'agar or one of the four Tyr'agnate
Tyran - Personal bodyguard (oathguard) of a Tyr
Tor'agar - A noble in service to a Tyr Tor'agnate A noble in service to a Tor'agar; least of noble ranks Tor A Tor'agar or Tor'agnate
Toran - Personal bodyguard (oathguard) of a Tor
Ser - A clansman
Serra - The primary wife and legitimate daughters of a clansman kai The holder or first in line to the clan title
par - The brother of the first in line; the direct son of the title holder
* * *
Dramatis Personae
* * *
ESSALIEYAN
AVANTARI (The Palace)
The Royals
King Reymalyn: the Justice-born King
King Cormalyn: the Wisdom-born King
Queen Marieyan (an'Cormalyn)
Queen Siodonay The Fair (an 'Reymalyn)
Prince Reymar: son of the Queen Siodonay & Reymaris
Prince Cormar: son of the Queen Mareiyan & Cormaris
Princess Mirialyn ACormaris: daughter of Queen Marieyan & King Cormalyn
The Non-Royals
Duvari: the Lord of the Compact; leader of the Astari
Devon ATerafin: member of the Astari and of House Terafin
Commander Sivari: former King's Champion (at the Summer Games)
The Hostages
Ser Valedan kai di'Leonne (Raverra): the heir to the Sword of The Dominion
Serra Marlena en'Leonne: Valedan's mother; born a slave; granted honorific "Serra" because her son has been recognized and claimed as legitimate
Ser Fillipo par di'Callesta (Averda): brother to the Tyr'agnate of Averda
Serra Tara di'Callesta: his Serra
Michaele di'Callesta: oldest son
Frederick di'Callesta: youngest son
Andrea en'Callesta: his concubine
Ser Kyro di'Lorenza (Sorgassa): the oldest of the hostages
Serra Helena di'Lorenza: the only wife he has; he has taken no others
Ser Gregori di'Lorenza: his son
Ser Mauro di'Garradi (Oerta)
Serra Alina di 'Lamberto (Mancorvo)
Imperial Army
The Eagle: Commander Bruce Allen. Commands the First Army
The Hawk: Commander Berrilya. Commands the Second Army
The Kestrel: Commander Kalakar. Commands the Third Army & the Ospreys
THE TEN:
Kalakar
Ellora: The Kalakar.
Verrus Korama: her closest friend and counselor
Verrus Vernon Loris: friend and counselor
The Ospreys:
Primus Duarte: leader
Alexis (Sentrus or Decarus)
Auralis (Sentrus or Decarus)
Fiara (Sentrus)
Cook (Sentrus)
Sanderson (Decarus)
Berriliya
Devran: The Berriliya
Terafin
Amarais: The Terafin
Morretz: her Domicis
Jewel ATerafin: part of her House council; also seer-born
Avandar: Jewel's Domicis
THE ORDER OF KNOWLEDGE
Meralonne APhaniel: Member of the Council of the Magi; first circle mage
Sigurne Mellifas: Member of the Council of the Magi; fi
rst circle mage
SENNIEL COLLEGE
Solran Marten: Bardmaster of Senniel College
Kallandras: Master Bard of Senniel
ANNAGAR
The Tor Leonne
General Alesso par di'Marente - par to Corano; General to the former Tyr
General Baredan kai di'Navarre: General to the former Tyr; loyal to Leonne.
Widan Cortano di'Alexes: the Sword's Edge
Lord Isladar of the kin: the link between the Shining Court and the Dominion
THE CLANS
Callesta
Ramiro kai di'Callesta: the Tyr
Karro di Callesta: Tyran; half-brother (concubine's son); the oldest of the Tyran
Mikko di Callesta: Tyran; half-brother (concubine's son) Garrardi
Garrardi
Eduardo kai di 'Garrardi: the Tyr'agnate of the Terrean of Oerta
Lamberto
Mareo kai di'Lamberto: the Tyr'agnate of Mancorvo
Serra Donna en'Lamberto: his Serra
Galen kai di 'Lamberto: the kai (former par)
Leonne
Markaso kai di'Leonne: the Tyr'agar
Serra Amanita en'Leonne: the Tyr'agar's Serra
Illara kai di'Leonne: the heir
Serra Diora en'Leonne: also Serra Diora di'Marano
Ser Illara's concubines:
Faida en 'Leonne: Oathwife to Diora
Ruatha en 'Leonne: Oathwife to Diora
Dierdre en 'Leonne: Oathwife to Diora
Lorenza
Jarrani kai di'Lorenza: the Tyr'agnate of Sorgassa
Hectore kai di'Lorenza: the kai
Marano
Adano kai di'Marano: Tor'agar to Mareo kai di'Lamberto
Sendari par di'Marano: his brother; Widan
Serra Fiona en'Marano: Sendari's wife
Ser Artano: Sendari's oldest son
Serra Diora di'Marano: Sendari's only child by his first wife
Sendari's concubines:
Alana en'Marano: the oldest of Sendari's wives
Illana en'Marano
Illia en'Marano
Lissa en'Marano: given to the healer-born
Serra Teresa di'Marano: sister to Adano and Sendari
Caveras
Ser Laonis di'Caveras: healer-born; his wife is Lissa en 'Caveras.
THE RADANN
Radann Fredero kai el'Sol: the ruler of the Radann
Jevri el'Sol: his loyal servitor
Radann Samiel par el'Sol: youngest of the Hand of God
Radann Peder par el'Sol
Marakas par el'Sol: contemporary of Fredero
Samadar par el'Sol: the oldest of the par el'Sol
THE VOYANI
Arkosa
Evallen of the Arkosa Voyani: the woman who ruled the Voyani clan
Margret of the Arkosa Voyani: her chosen "heir"
Havalla
Yollana of the Havalla Voyani: ruler of the clan
* * *
BIRTH
* * *
Prologue:
I: ASKEYIA
20th of Henden, 411 AA
Averalaan, the Common
Children were always the worst.
Five years spent cramping knees at the feet of Levec, the most notorious healer on the isle of Averalaan Aramarelas, had drilled into Askeyia a'Narin the fundamental lessons about how to be a healer in the Real World. But although she could now walk past crippled men, injured women, people in pain so great that they hid it behind enough ale to flood a river, she found it hard to bypass the children.
So she did what many of the healer-born did when they went about their errands in the city outside of their walls: she dressed like one of the poorer merchants, and she kept the medallion which proclaimed her birthright—the talent with which she'd been born—hidden. It meant that the needy had to actually know who she was before they could approach her with their tales of woe.
It was so hard to say no. It was still hard. She wondered, as she pulled the edges of her woven shawl more tightly around her shoulders, if she would ever find it easy. Levec had perfected such a look of temper that people were afraid to speak to him—and he was the only healer who wore his medallion openly no matter where he traveled.
Of course, Levec also had a single brow that crossed his forehead in a dark unbroken line, and his temper suited the perpetual frown he wore; had she been injured, with nowhere to turn, she'd probably have to be paid to approach the taciturn healer.
Askeyia a'Narin had no such brow. She had no height to speak of, although she had so hoped that she would take after her father's family and grow all tall and willowy by the time she'd reached her name age. It hadn't happened; she'd slimmed down a little—hard work and a poor harvest always had that effect—but she'd only gained an inch on her mother, and her mother was, to put it politely, short.
She'd tried different hairstyles, something suitably severe, but they made her chin look chubby, and she had, although Mother knew it was childish, her vanity. She also had an uncanny ability to be recognized for what she was, although how or why she couldn't say.
Heal one of them, Levec would say sternly, and they'll follow you around like rats for the rest of your life, gnawing at your strength when you can least afford to lose it.
You think you can save the world because you're young. You can't. And if you let the pain of the world drag you in, you 'll find the undertow is too strong; you 'll be swept away by it, and all of the good you could have done in a long life of healing will be lost.
There are always dying men. Dying women. Dying children. They need and will always need. But you don't owe them your life, is that clear? If you were meant to live their lives, you'd have been born them. You weren't. Those people with broken ribs or infections or illnesses— they don't care who you are; they reach for you blindly, the same way they reach for a drink. They'll drain you as dry, if you give them half a chance. You can't afford to be swallowed by those needs. Askeyia, are you listening?
She had nodded politely, thinking that Dantallon was a healer without compare, but a gentle man, a quiet one. Most of the healer's students felt that way, but they'd long since refrained from pointing him out as a counterexample. She'd tried it, once.
Of course, he's gentle, had been his reply. He's the Queen's own healer. A commoner with a cold comes near him and the Kings' personal guard will make the matter of a healing entirely moot. You, on the other hand, are far too approachable. I tell you, Askeyia, you're the softest free (owner I've ever met.
Words meant to sting, and they did.
Because he was right, and she hated it.
As proof of this, as proof that his words held both sting and truth—as if words with no truth could sting at all— she looked up from her reverie and saw a woman standing in the cobbled streets of the Common. The bowers of the Rings—the ancient stands of trees that were famous throughout the Empire—caught the height of the midday sun and made of it shadow, short and dark, that pooled around the woman's feet. Her eyes were wide, her skin unnaturally pale, and the collar that framed her neck was worn to threads; Levee's second youngest healer thought that the shift she wore had once been a deep blue by the edge of color near seams that were splitting with age; it was pale now, whatever its color had once been.
Askeyia started to lower her face again—she found it easier to walk through the Common with her eyes cast groundward—but she stopped as she saw that the woman's arms were rigidly curved on either side of a bundle of cloth. A still bundle.
People were always in a hurry in the Common; they glared at the woman as they shoved their way past her, flowing to either side like a sluggish river. The woman swayed as shoulders and elbows brushed her to either side, but she stayed her ground as if rooted to it. Raising her glance from the bundle to the woman's face, Askeyia made her first mistake: she met the eyes, dark-ringed, horrified.
You couldn't meet eyes like that and turn away. You couldn't do it; you'd have to leave shreds of soul behind just to tear you
rself free.
Swallowing, she glanced over her shoulder once, but there were no other healers in sight; Jonas had run ahead, and Mercy—Aristide, really, but everyone called him Mercy, for reasons which were clearly lost on Askeyia— had disappeared into a stall full of people with too many elbows for Askeyia's less prepossessing size. Neither one could see her, and what they couldn't see, they couldn't report.
Besides, it wasn't as if she was going to heal the babe. She was just—she was just going to see if the babe needed help. That was all. She was just going to take a small look; just touch the child. Nothing too dangerous. And children—well, if they were the most compelling, they were also by far the easiest to heal all across the spectrum; their bodies helped.
Taking a deep breath, Askeyia a'Narin reached into her shirt and pulled out the medallion of the healer-born. It glittered in the sun as she laid it flat against her breast, a platinum rectangle, simple and severe, with only the golden glow of two hands, palm up, to alleviate the starkness. No one in the city could mistake the medallion itself for anything other than what it was.
The flash of light cut the shadow and drew the woman's attention, and although she made no move toward Askeyia, her dark eyes lit with a hunger, a hope, that the healer had seen so often it shouldn't have been jarring. But it was.
"Healer," the woman said. "Healer, I know—"
Askeyia lifted a hand that was at once gentle and imperious. She held out her hands but the woman's arms, thin and fragile, seemed locked in a position that she herself had forgotten how to break. Shock—or worse. The woman started to speak again, and again Askeyia lifted a hand. Of all the things that she found difficult, the pleading was always the worst; it cut her, to hear a voice so devoid of pride.