I opened my mouth to explain that I didn’t go around touching people on purpose, but Laurel spoke before I did. “It is like getting ambushed, no? But with training, Lord Rabbit will be able to control its, hmm, side effects. Which I hope to be able to do during this trip.”
Jusson grinned at my expression. “Well, I am your king as well as your cousin and I command you to go with the Faena cat.” His grin became sharper at my continued expression. “We took Ambassador Laurel’s word that he could keep our emissary to the Border safe, and now he’s swearing the same for you. Are you saying that his word is no good?”
All of a sudden I was responsible for the peace process.
Captain Suiden walked up at that moment. “What’s the matter, Lieutenant?”
“Captain Prince.” The king sighed. “Threaten one of your men and you become all teeth and claws.” I smiled at the memory of Slevoic’s terror when he defied the captain and found himself facing the dragon. Then an older memory rose of Dragoness Moraina arguing with a mage, who decided to make his point by hurling a powerful spell right between honored Moraina’s eyes. I also remembered his subsequent extreme discomfort when Moraina easily swatted it away. I gave the captain a speculative look.
“All right, Your Majesty. I’ll go.”
Laurel gave a short chuff. “I swear on everything I hold sacred that I will keep you safe, and you look at me sideways. The captain’s shadow floats by and you’re ready to follow it to the moon.”
“It’s called loyalty, Sro Cat, and is something you earn,” Suiden said.
I quickly stepped between them as the Faena rumbled in his throat. “I trust you, honored Laurel. It’s just that—”
“Hah! He said it to someone else,” Jusson said.
“—I spent five years hiding from these folk and you’re asking me to return with only your say-so as backup. What if the High Council commands you to give me to the Magus?”
“The High Council can take a long walk on a short pier,” Suiden said, “along with this wizard. Right now I need you to attend to your duties. Your Majesty.” With a bow to the king, he walked off.
“Make a man captain of his own ship and he thinks he rules the world,” Jusson remarked. “Captain Prince!” he called out, and Suiden stopped and turned around. “You have our permission to leave our presence.”
It was the third time I’d seen the captain disconcerted. He hesitated, then bowed. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He gave another bow for good measure, then left.
The king caught sight of my face. “Do not be dismayed, cousin.” He shrugged. “I could surround myself with sycophants who’d fawn and swoon over my every utterance. But that would mean they’d fawn and swoon over the next person too.” The king gave a wry smile. “Ask Teram where all his supporters are.”
“Sucking up to you, sire?” I guessed.
“Pox take them, yes. It’s better to have strong men who do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do, not because I say do it. And if they argue back or forget the occasional observance”—Jusson’s black eyes gleamed—”I am sure I can remind them who’s king.”
“But what about those who are strong yet don’t care about what’s right,” I asked.
“Those you avoid like the plague.” Jusson sighed. “Anybody can be fooled once, Rabbit. The trick is not to let it happen twice.”
“Yes, sire,” I said, as I shot a glance at Groskin.
“That wasn’t being fooled,” the king said, following my look. “That was being betrayed by someone you had every right to trust. Now, if you had believed Teram’s expressions of goodwill—”
“Not bloody likely, sire.”
Jusson gave a short laugh. “You definitely aren’t an idiot, cousin.” He looked at Laurel standing silent next to us. “I would like to speak with Rabbit in private, Ambassador.”
“Yes, honored king.” Laurel bowed and walked off towards the group with the patriarch. I watched Patriarch Pietr’s eyes light up as he made room for the Faena to join them. Archdoyen Obruesk, however, glowered.
“Trooper Basel, if you please,” Jusson said to the shade, who also bowed and moved away.
Yeah, right, I thought. If I’d asked for privacy—
“You never did ask me what I saw when you put your hand on my shoulder last night, cousin.”
I stared at the king, not quite sure I wanted to hear. “Sire?”
All amusement had left Jusson’s face, leaving it strained. “There are certain beliefs that a king holds about his rule, especially one whose House has been ruling as long as mine.” He turned his head, tracking a boat laden with lumber going out to the ships. “An unbroken line, all the way back to King Iver. I’ve never questioned it. Why should I? I must rule by divine right or my House wouldn’t have lasted so long and be the measuring stick by which every other House determines their ennoblement.”
“Yes, sire,” I said, thinking of all the problems my degrees to his House had caused.
“Then you touched me with your rune and I was there, in the last hours of the battle for the City.” The lines of strain deepened on Jusson’s face. “Servants dead, women, children, their blood slick on the throne room floor. Those still alive fighting, desperate to save a remnant, while the founder of my House and his men swept over them like the sea at high tide.” He took a deep breath. “I could see one lying dead by the throne steps. She had my mother’s face, Rabbit, and her eyes were gold.”
A gull cried as it flew low over the water.
“I always knew I had elf blood. How could I not when I see its evidence every time I look in a mirror?” Jusson gave a wry, pained smile. “But I never questioned it, just as I never questioned how Iver came to rule an elf city. I figured that the one didn’t matter because the other was ordained by God.” I stared down into the small waves lapping against the dock.
“Now what I’ve always accepted as true—” Jusson turned to look at me. “Would God ordain a rule that was begun on the deaths of children? And I, who sit on Iver’s throne with my unbroken line and my elfin blood, what does that make me?” The lines of strain deepened on his face. “I looked into the mirror this morning, cousin, and saw a dead woman’s eyes looking back.”
“Yes, sire,” I said, my voice soft.
The wind whipped Jusson’s hair, exposing an elfin ear. “Then I managed to have a private conversation with the Faena cat. Not only do I contend with rebellions and revelations, but also a land in transition.” He looked to where Javes and Esclaur stood talking together. “Turning into wolves, dragons, and sorcerers. Rumors have already begun to seep into the City, cousin.” He turned the other way and caught a dock worker staring at him. Seeing he had the king’s attention, he immediately picked up his wheelbarrow and moved to the waiting boat, but not without first sliding a look at me.
“I see, sire,” I said.
“And what do my advisors say? Muster a force and bring it to Veldecke, just in case Chancellor Berle fails. Never mind that increasing troops there might provoke the Border to attack. I know it would provoke me.”
“The Marcher lords, sire?” I asked, remembering who pushed for the last war.
“Everyone who’s finally realizing that the Border is more than a once upon a time in the land of make-believe.” Jusson sighed. “It feels like I’m riding a runaway horse with no saddle, no reins, no bit. Those I once trusted have proven false, and even those that, haven’t—” The king’s eyes now went to where Admiral Noal and Chancellor Berle were talking. “Well, there are ways of controlling wild horses, just as there are others who have proven true.” His black eyes began to gleam again as he looked back at me. “You are my man, thrice sworn, the last time in that runic circle, damn near lighting up the sky. So I also name you my emissary, Rabbit. Bring me peace!”
“Me? Uh, sire?” I stared back at him, startled.
Jusson turned and beckoned Thadro, who stood a distance away. The king held out his hand as the Lord Commander approached and Thadro
gave him a knife. My knife. “We had taken this so that if any had accused you of witchcraft in the defense of yourself, we would be able to produce it as proof of your innocence.” He held the knife out and I took it, holding it with a limp hand. “It has been cleaned.”
“Sire,” I tried again. “I’m just a farm boy. I know nothing of diplomacy.”
“Correction, cousin. You were a farm boy. Now you’re my sworn liegeman, truth written on your right hand.” He clapped me on the shoulder, once more grinning at my expression.
“Your Majesty,” I tried a third time,”I wouldn’t know where to start,how to start—”
“Do you think Berle has an inkling?” Jusson asked. “You know these Border people. She doesn’t. A word, a gesture, an expression, and she could precipitate the very thing she’d come to prevent.”
“So could I! I’d be a minnow swimming with sharks, sire—”
“Oh, I’d trust you to hold your own, cousin,” Jusson returned. “You did here.”
“But nothing depended on me here,” I said, desperate.
“Lord Esclaur would argue with you, Rabbit,” Jusson replied. “So would your troop, so would the haunt following you about. I argue with you, liegeman. You never give an inch, no matter who pushes at you. No matter what is pushed at you.” His smile softened. “Don’t worry, cousin. I’m not asking you to replace Berle. But I am asking you to make sure that no one forgets why they were sent. All of the reasons why.”
I wanted to tell the king that being a plain horse soldier in a backwater mountain trade town suited me fine. The power and the glory I’d gladly leave to others more skilled—and ambitious—than I. I had opened my mouth when a dock worker trundled by with a cart piled with more pelts, the fur rippling in the harbor breeze. I caught a glimmer hovering over the boat and my heart stopped for a moment, afraid. Then I realized that I was seeing Laurel Faena’s wards—and not, as I first thought, ghosts.
I dragged in a breath through my still opened mouth, and let it out through my nose. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I said, giving in. “I will do my best to bring you peace.”
“Swear to me, Rabbit,” the king said. “To me.”
I raised my hand, and I felt the warmth flow down my arm, across my body. “I so swear, Jusson. Fiat.”
“Good,” King Jusson said, satisfied. “Very good.” He looked beyond me. “And just in time, as I think His Holiness wants us to join him.”
The patriarch did want us, along with all the other troopers, to come together so that he could hold an impromptu service on the dock. After he finished, he had us line up and he laid hands on each one as he prayed. When he reached me, he hesitated. “Will you permit me to pray for you?”
I was standing with my head bowed in anticipation of the patriarch’s blessing and raised my head in surprise. “Yes, of course, Your Holiness.”
“I wasn’t sure that you followed the teachings of the Church.”
“Yes, of course I do,” I said again.
“No ‘of course’ about it,” Archdoyen Obruesk muttered. “He looks a pagan.” He stood behind Patriarch Pietr eyeing the feather and long hair with contempt.
I didn’t see the look the patriarch gave the archdoyen over his shoulder, but Obruesk shut up. However, he held his mouth closed like a steel trap while his cavernous eyes burned. It was an easy guess whom he blamed for his fall from grace.
The patriarch turned back to me. “Who was your catechist?”
“Brother Paedrig, Your Holiness.”
“Short, round man with red hair?” the patriarch asked, a smile lighting his face.
“It was red when I was little, Your Holiness, but by the time I left it had turned mostly white.”
The patriarch laughed. “So that’s where the good brother went.” He looked over his shoulder again. “Even you can’t question Brother Paedrig’s orthodoxy, Archdoyen Obruesk.” He faced me once more. “He taught both me and the archdoyen.” He raised his hands, preparing to lay them on my head. “I wish, young lord, that we had time to talk both about my old teacher and what it was like growing up in the Border. Perhaps we can when you return.”
I set aside the question of whether or not I would return, and closed my eyes as the patriarch prayed, asking God to bless and keep me safe, and give me strength, wisdom and guidance. Standard fare. He started to take his hands away, then stopped. “I also ask that what is torn be mended, what has been done in secret be brought out in the light, what needs to be loosed, be loosed, and what needs to be bound, be bound.” My eyes flew open. Great, now the patriarch was spouting cryptic rot.
Patriarch Pietr frowned, his eyes catching mine in a glare, as one hand came down from atop my head and gave me a sharp tap against my cheek. “And finally, I beseech that Lord Rabbit learn respect for his elders.” He then smiled even as his brows stayed knitted in a frown. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of Brother Paedrig’s white hair was your doing.” He tapped me again, this time more gently. “Blessings, young lord,” and he moved on to the next trooper.
That night I stood at the railing of the largest ship, the Dauntless, having braved the boat trip out into the harbor. The two other, smaller ships, the Valiant and the Adamantine, were part of our escort, the king and the Lord Admiral deciding that it was better to be safe than sorry, and that three ships were a much harder morsel for pirates to swallow than just one. I was alone—Basel’s haunt was inspecting the galley and Jeffen was stowing his gear in the soldiers’ berth.
As I stared out towards the black expanse of the open sea, I heard the click of claws against wood and turned around.
“And so it continues, no?” Laurel stopped beside me and leaned against his staff.
“Yes, honored Faena.”
“Have you meditated this evening?”
“Not yet.”
“But you will?”
“Yes, honored Faena.”
“It is important, Rabbit. It was only through blind chance that you were able to deflect what Slevoic threw at you. Right now you are like a child with a sharp sword, more likely to behead yourself than anyone else.”
“Yes, honored Faena.”
We were silent, listening to the sounds of the sailors preparing for tomorrow’s sailing, their shadows passing in front of bright lanterns and backlit windows.
“I felt the power of your oath when you stood with the king,” Laurel remarked.
“He wished my efforts for peace, honored Faena.”
“I see.”
There was a burst of laughter somewhere behind us, voices raised in the excitement of a joke. Then they faded into the night.
“I will protect you, honored Rabbit, when we arrive in the Border,” Laurel finally said. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”
I nodded. “Yes, Laurel Faena.”
Laurel caught my arm and gently pulled me around so we faced each other. “What did the Magus do to instill such fear in you?”
I shrugged, as a memory I had long pushed down surfaced. Sitting at my apprentice’s desk in the Magus’ study, I’d quickly solved a problem he had given me as he stood over my shoulder. I remembered looking up into his face, expecting the same kind of warm praise my da would give for a job well done, only to freeze at the glitter in the Magus’ eyes as he stared down at me. “He’d look at me like I was an egg full of meat and he a starving man,” I said after a moment.
Laurel sighed, his paw still resting on my arm. “As I’ve said before, you’re very powerful, and some collect power as barrels collect rain. Here a drop, there a sprinkle, until they’re full and wet even when everything else is dry and there are no clouds in sight.” He let his paw drop but continued to watch me. “Tell me, Rabbit, did you go through a ceremony when you first came to the Magus?”
Another memory arose. “Yes.” I thought a moment. “The Magus cut a lock of my hair off, then gave me water in a silver cup. He threw the hair in a fire he had burning in a bowl.” The flame had no fuel that I could see sustaining it and he
held the bowl in one hand, mindless of any heat, and fed the hair with the other. I remembered my wary astonishment as the fire burned blue.
“The fire and water were to bind you to the Magus.” Laurel laughed at my look of indignant horror. “Oh, not forever, Rabbit. Apprentices cannot be kept bound once they’ve demonstrated a mastery of their craft.” Laurel stopped laughing, but his whiskers remained swept back in amusement. “Which happens in fifteen to thirty years. The Magus was with his master twenty before he was declared a mage.” He eyed me with interest. “You should’ve been bound so tight that you couldn’t have even thought of leaving. He must have been very surprised when he discovered you were gone, and I do not wonder that he believed Honor Ash had something to do with it.”
I said nothing, trying to deal with what Laurel had said.
Laurel rumbled—it was almost a purr. “And the Magus must’ve been very, very surprised when, after he had finally found you, he was swatted away again like a pest of a fly.” He saw my look. “Captain Suiden told me about it after your first encounter with Slevoic ibn Dru. He was worried that your sickness might make you vulnerable to the Magus’ influence.” He shrugged, his beads clacking. “And perhaps you would’ve been, but with the rune—”
“There were more than one,” I said, interrupting Laurel.
“What?”
“I saw their eyes, there were more than one that found me.”
“More than one mage.” Laurel’s voice was flat.
It was quiet, the sailors apparently having finished, and now all I heard was the murmur of men speaking in the distance and the creaking of the ship as it gently rocked in the harbor currents.
“Still think you can protect me?”
“What?” Laurel said again as he returned from wherever he had gone. “Oh, of course. That is not a problem, Rabbit.” His eyes glowed in the lantern light as he stared at me. “How many more were there?”
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