Ra-khir never talked about it, but Tae had proven easier for the twins to crack. “You found my father worthy.”
“Not exactly.” Thialnir settled into his seat. Clearly, the battle Saviar had anticipated was not going to happen, and the young Renshai did not know whether to feel relieved or cheated. He did not relish the thought of more cuts and bruises or humiliation, yet he did want to test his sword arm against the great Thialnir.
“For a ganim, your father does have some competence with a sword. He is also courageous to a degree some would describe as insanity, a feature well appreciated by Renshai and one you demonstrate aptly. He’s devoted, willing to commit to an ideal so strongly he will throw away his own life defending it. More importantly, to me at least, he could give the Renshai size without sacrificing quickness. If you managed to inherit your mother’s agility and your father’s strength, you would make a great asset indeed.”
Saviar lowered his head. “Except I seem to have inherited my mother’s strength and my father’s quickness, as Calistin often says.”
“Calistin,” Thialnir said, “cannot see the buds for the roses.”
It was the first negative word Saviar had ever heard uttered by a Renshai about Calistin.
Thialnir made another, wholly unexpected, pronouncement. “I was nearly twenty before I passed my tests of manhood.”
“Really?” The word was startled from Saviar, one he never would have spoken had he time to think first.
“Men like us, Saviar. Men of speed and muscle, develop bulk first, then learn to work with and around it.” Thialnir captured Saviar’s gaze again. “In time, you will become like me. In time, Saviar, you will be one of the most formidable Renshai in history. And, I hope, you will lead the tribe.”
It was the ultimate compliment. Saviar could do nothing but bask in it for several moments. Me? A formidable Renshai? Every young man believed himself destined for greatness, but few expected others to see it in them, especially others so respected. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”
Now, Thialnir frowned. “There is nothing to thank me for, young Renshai. I am simply stating what I see, what I saw in you even as an infant. I examined the set of your sinews, their attachments and arrangements. I knew then what you would become today, at least in physicality. You are very much like myself as a young man; and, since I have no offspring, it will be up to you to pass your strengths through the tribe.”
Saviar flushed from the roots of his hair to his lantern chin. “Are you asking me to . . . to . . . ?” He found himself too embarrassed to speak the words.
“I’m asking you to marry within the tribe. And to pick someone fertile, please.”
For Renshai, this was not such an odd request. Their women worked as hard as their men and hurled themselves into the same dangers. Many never cycled at all. Those who did still often had difficulties conceiving, carrying, or delivering. “I’ll try, sir,” Saviar said, eager to abandon the topic. His father had become a young parent, but Saviar did not feel nearly ready for such an enormous responsibility. He deliberately changed the subject. “Don’t you worry that if I succeed you, I might be influenced by the Knights of Erythane rather than strictly representing the best interests of the Renshai?”
It was a complicated question that deserved a complicated answer but got only, “Nope.”
Saviar found himself, once again, speechless.
Luckily, Thialnir filled the void. “You’ve proved yourself a smart and honest young Renshai. I don’t believe you would accept the position if you couldn’t do it properly.”
“But I—” Not knowing where he was going next, Saviar was relieved when Thialnir broke in.
“And I’ve worked with your grandfather long enough to know that his strict and damnable honor would never allow him to take advantage of his relationship with you. He might advise, but he would never push you in the wrong direction.”
Abruptly, Saviar gained a new respect for Thialnir, not only as a warrior but as a diplomat. Renshai disdained strategy, yet Thialnir clearly had developed a talent for it. As rash in his youth as any Renshai, Thialnir would clearly not leave the Council unscathed. Time and exposure had added sophistication to his speech as well as his actions. Thialnir was not the same Renshai that he’d been when he had agreed to represent the Renshai on the High King’s Council. How much will it change me? Yet, Saviar realized something important. He was different from the other Renshai. He loved his swordwork as much as any, but he also wanted something more, the knighthood, for example. Or, perhaps, a chance to help steer the course of Renshai history. Could this be the plan the gods have always had for me?
“So.” Thialnir propped his enormous elbows on the table. “Will you become my apprentice?”
It was exactly like a Renshai to expect immediate results, an impulsive answer to a lead-heavy question. “Please, Thialnir, sir. I need some time to think about it.”
“Very well.” Thialnir took the nonresponse in stride. “Will you, at least, accompany me to the Council meeting tomorrow?”
For the second time in two days, Saviar found himself invited to a meeting his father would prefer he not attend. Clearly, it’s fated. “Of course,” he promised. “I would be delighted.”
Thialnir snorted with just a hint of smile. “Saviar, you’re the only Renshai who would be.”
CHAPTER 14
The future is decided by battles, and it is not finished except by them.
—General Santagithi
SAVIAR PERCHED ON a familiar rocky outcropping south of the Fields of Wrath, watching the sun crawl toward the western horizon, trailing streaks of silver. Gradually, the sky diffused into its sunset hues: bands of pink blossoming into orange and saffron, then melting into greens and exploding, farther out, into a vast spectrum of blues and purples. Saviar managed a smile at the display, his first in at least a week.
Focused fully on nature’s artistry, Saviar allowed the annoyances of the last six months, since the Northmen’s arrival, to disappear into the recesses of his memory. Nothing existed except this grand tableau; everything human seemed insignificant in comparison.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
The voice startled Saviar, and he found himself on his feet with sword drawn in an instant. The darkness gathered around a small man: swarthy, black-haired, and familiar. “Subikahn?” he whispered, barely daring to hope.
“Do you always greet your long-gone brother with bared steel?”
Saviar sheathed his sword and caught his twin into an exuberant embrace. “Subikahn! You’re back.” He laughed loudly, his troubles fully forgotten. “I missed you.”
“And I you,” Subikahn replied in a muffled voice. “But I’d still rather you didn’t suffocate me.”
Saviar released his twin, subsumed by excitement. “Sorry. Sorry.”
Subikahn smoothed his tattered tunic, speckled with mold and bits of leaf. He looked thinner than Saviar remembered. Twigs tangled into his long, soft locks. Darkness bagged beneath his eyes, and scratches marred his cheeks. He reeked of sweat and filth.
Finally, Saviar responded to his brother’s greeting words. “How’d you know you’d find me here?”
Subikahn studied the horizon, dropping into a crouch on the rocks. “Because we used to come here when we felt troubled and needed a distraction or some time alone.”
Saviar looked back at the parade of colors radiating from the horizon as the last edge of sun sank beneath it. “What made you so sure I’d feel troubled?” It was an apt description, but Saviar doubted word of Erythane’s unrest would have reached all the way to the Eastlands.
“Well.” Subikahn did not bother to look at his brother. “First, testing day is approaching. If you want to become a man half as much as I do, you’re brooding about that. And second, I’m distressed; and you’re my twin. So you have to suffer whenever I do.”
“I do?” Saviar had heard people claim that twins had an unholy, emotional bond but had never believed it
.
“Sure.” Subikahn made a gesture but still kept his gaze on the sunset. “We match in every other way, don’t we? Why not in mood?”
Saviar laughed, and it felt good. No two brothers, let alone twins, had ever seemed more different. “Whatever’s bothering you will seem less significant over a good meal with family.”
“No.”
The response caught Saviar off his guard. “No, what?”
“I can’t go with you. I was given explicit instructions. I’m not allowed to ‘run to Mother.’ ”
“Explicit instructions? Run to . . . ?” The words made little sense to Saviar. He seized Subikahn’s shoulders and forced the smaller man to face him. “All right, Brother. Start explaining.”
Finally, Subikahn met Saviar’s gaze. Then, he lowered his head and stared at his shoes instead. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t. I don’t ever want to talk about it. With anyone.”
“Subikahn, we shared a womb.”
“Yes.”
“And nearly everything else.”
“Yes.”
“So why not this?”
Subikahn remained silent for several moments, then finally managed. “I don’t know.”
“Oh.”Torn between hurt and rage, Saviar debated his next course of action. “Did you come to . . . to test?”
“To test . . . yes.” Subikahn struggled to raise his head again. “And to see you. I wanted to talk to you. I did. I really thought I could, but I can’t. Not yet.”
“Oh,” Saviar said again, not certain where to go with the conversation. Pressing too hard seemed counterproductive. If Subikahn gave up his secrets under pressure, he might resent doing so, which could lead to permanent discomfort between them. Better to wait and give Subikahn the time he needed.
Subikahn steered the discussion in another direction. “What’s bothering you, Savi?”
“Bothering?” Saviar tried to hide his own anxieties, not wishing to further burden Subikahn. “It’s just . . . just the testing. I’m just worried about the testing. Don’t know what I’ll do if I fail again.”
“Yes, you do.”
Saviar had expected commiseration, not bravado. “I do?”
“Same thing you did last year. Practice harder, and try again next time.”
Saviar rolled his eyes. “Well, yes. I suppose so. But isn’t there a point where one just . . . when it’s time to realize you’re just not . . . ever going to be competent enough . . . to . . .”
Subikahn nodded. “Yes, but it’s not at eighteen, Savi. That’s just the average age of passing. Many don’t succeed until well into their twenties.”
“Well, yes, but Mama—”
“Mama is aberrant.”
Taken aback by Subikahn’s word choice, Saviar could not help laughing again. “And Calistin?”
“Weirder still. Need you ask?”
That reminded Saviar of the only fun news he had to share. “You’re not going to believe this. Calistin . . .” He could not keep himself from chortling, unable to finish. “Calistin . . .”
“Yes?”
Saviar forced out the news, “. . . has a . . . a . . . a . . .”
“Yes?” A touch of impatience entered Subikahn’s tone.
“. . . a bodyguard.” Saviar collapsed into a frenzy of mirth.
Though surely utterly confused, Subikahn could not help laughing along with his brother. “What?” he finally managed.
“This Erythanian kid latched on to Calistin. Calls him Hero and tries to protect him from everything. And I do mean everything.”
“Erythanian? Is he competent?”
“He’s a competent pain in Calistin’s rear end. He’s like all of ten years old, skinny as a stick, and probably never saw a sword before he met Calistin. Constantly under his feet, fetching him things, cheering him on. It’s hilarious.” Saviar could not help laughing again.
Subikahn snorted, still smiling. The dirt on his cheekbones cracked, as if he had not worn any kind of happy expression for a very long time. “I’m surprised he hasn’t killed the little bug.”
“I think Calistin sees him as one more challenge.” Saviar ran with the insect analogy. “If he can remain the best swordsmen in the world with this blackfly buzzing and biting him, that makes him even better.”
“What else is new since I left?” Subikahn seemed genuinely interested for the first time since his arrival.
Saviar saw that as a positive step, a way to drag Subikahn from his funk, perhaps far enough to share his own troubles. “Thialnir has chosen a successor.”
“Really? Who?”
“Me.”
Subikahn laughed harder. “Funny.”
“Extremely,” Saviar admitted. “But nonetheless true.”
“You? Representing the Renshai?” Subikahn shook his head, teasing. “What a terrible thought.”
Saviar winced, his heart suddenly as heavy as the growing darkness. He knew his brother meant the words as a joke, but he could not see the humor in it. “I wish I’d said ‘no.’ ”
Subikahn caught Saviar’s hand. “I was only kidding, Savi. You’ll do great. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have representing us at Béarn’s council.” He nodded suddenly. “No wonder you’re so worried about the testing.”
“Yes, that’s why mostly,” Saviar admitted, giving Subikahn’s hand a brotherly squeeze. “Subikahn, don’t tell anyone this: I might deliberately fail.”
“What! You can’t do that! No one—” Subikahn sputtered wordlessly.
Saviar shrugged. “I already made my first leaderly decision, and it was a bad one. A very bad one.”
Subikahn freed his hand to loop the arm across Saviar’s shoulders and pull him down to a sitting position. The gesture was more suggestion than purposeful. A head shorter than his brother, Subikahn had to stand on the tips of his toes just to reach, and he did not have nearly the strength to force Saviar anywhere.
Saviar willingly dropped to a crouch with his brother. “I talked Thialnir into pulling us out of the Pirate Wars so that Béarn could use Northmen.”
“Northmen? Why?”
“At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. For many reasons, all of which are still valid. But I didn’t figure on what happened next.”
Subikahn nodded encouragingly.
Saviar waffled. He did not want to talk about the thing that troubled him, dreaded the details that haunted him; yet, he knew he could hardly expect Subikahn to talk about his problems if he would not return the favor. “Renshai prejudice is growing.”
Subikahn shrugged. “We’ve always had enemies. We always will.”
Saviar could not deny it. “But this is different. It’s grown from insidious to blatant. All the old clichés come back to life: we murder children and drink their blood for immortality, we descend from real demons, we slaughter humans of every age and gender for fun and sport, then carve up their bodies for our stews.”
Subikahn screwed up his features, looking even more Eastern than usual. No stranger would see a trace of his Renshai origins, and Saviar only could because of great familiarity. “Those myths were debunked in Colbey’s time.We seemed immortal to enemies because looking young is in our bloodline, and we name newborns after fallen warriors.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
Subikahn flushed. “Sorry. Of course not.”
“King Griff refused a demand from the North that we be driven from the Westlands as monsters by deflecting the decision to Erythane.”
“What?”
Saviar had to defend the king of Béarn. “He’s right, you know. The Fields of Wrath are part of Erythane.”
Subikahn glanced at the moon. Nothing but it, and the stars, interrupted the skyward stretch of darkness any longer. “Griff should have told them to cram it up their—”
“He did,” Saviar interrupted. “In his polite fashion.”
“My papa would have .
. .”
This time, Saviar would have let Subikahn finish; but, to his surprise, Subikahn did not. Instead, his hands balled to fists, and he lowered his face again. “King Tae would have done that, I know. And there would be a war.”
“Probably.”
“Which, for Béarn, would mean fighting two wars on two fronts. Made worse by the fact that the North would have far superior weapons, given the iron ore crisis.”
“Iron ore cri . . .” Subikahn started, then waved off his own question. “Now I see why Thialnir picked you.”
“So now,” Saviar continued, “much of Béarn is grumbling about the king’s decision. Renshai hatred has become rampant.There’s talk of replacing him; and I think Griff would agree to it, except none of his heirs could pass the stone test yet. Failing that is known to drive most men to insanity. And—”
Subikahn’s dark eyes widened. “There’s more?”
“Can you handle it?”
Subikahn nodded vigorously.
“A group of Erythanians claims to hold original title to the Fields of Wrath. They now call it ‘Paradise Plains’ and are demanding money and/or right of return from King Humfreet.”
Subikahn continued to stare.
Saviar added, “The king refused. According to documented history, the Fields of Wrath were barren until the Renshai settled them.”
“Good.” Subikahn emphasized his word with a strong gesture.
“Driving the Paradisian movement underground, where it has swelled into prejudice and assassination.”
“Assassination?” Still at a crouch, Subikahn withdrew. “The king’s?”
“No. But several Renshai have disappeared under suspicious circumstances.”
“Which explains why you’re out here by yourself.”
Saviar nodded. “Upsetting, isn’t it?”
Subikahn put his face practically into Saviar’s. “I was being sarcastic. I meant, with so many Renshai murders, you should not go pining alone in secluded places after sundown.”
Saviar’s fists balled. “I should become a coward instead?”
“Of course not.” Subikahn sounded suitably offended by the suggestion. “But that doesn’t mean you should commit suicide either.” He nudged Saviar to his feet. “No Renshai would shrink from a real battle, but getting slaughtered by a stealthy assassin or stoned by a riled mob won’t get you to Valhalla.”
Flight of the Renshai Page 21