Darksong

Home > Science > Darksong > Page 71
Darksong Page 71

by Isobelle Carmody


  ‘Not now,’ Tarsin said. ‘I must go. It would not do to keep Fulig waiting. Everyone knows how precise he is. How meticulous and law abiding. And you know I am actually looking forward to this. My mother thinks she is so clever and controlling, but Fulig will never dance to her tunes, and I think tonight he will instruct her upon this. I must be sure to give him plenty of time to speak.’ He giggled, then scowled. ‘Kalide shall be seated furthest from me so that all shall see how I regard his pretensions, though in truth they are not his but my mother’s. But he has been her willing tool. Enough!’ he suddenly shrieked and the servitor instantly withdrew, bowing low. Tarsin swept from the room, an incongruous mix of filth and finery. A servitor waited at the door in gold-trimmed white, bearing a scepter and a heavy hide-covered book embossed in metal. He fell in behind Tarsin as he came out, but the Holder seemed unaware of him and of the expressionless salutes of the red legionnaires stationed at regular intervals along corridor after corridor.

  At length he came to the doors of the very chamber where the festivities had been held the night that she had been sent to vision in the cells. It seemed so long ago now. Liveried servitors at the doors opened them, bowing low to their master and, inside, ceremonial horns blared to announce his entrance. As on the last occasion Ember had attended, the entire court was assembled in its finery and, at Tarsin’s appearance, they bowed as one. He swept through them without looking at anyone, until he came to a tall, lean, older man with a shock of white hair.

  ‘Chieftain Fulig,’ Tarsin said stopping. Fulig straightened. He wore no face paint so his grave expression was visible to the entire room. ‘You are well, Lord?’

  Tarsin looked momentarily confused by the genuine concern in the old man’s tone and in his very pale brown eyes. He said, perhaps truly, and in a perfectly sane if somewhat weary voice, ‘I am the better for seeing the face of one whose loyalty has never wavered, Fulig. I have served you and your people ill, have I not?’

  Fulig shook his head. ‘I and my sept vowed to serve you and Darkfall, Lord Holder. We do not question your commands.’

  ‘Darkfall …’ Tarsin scowled. ‘Well, come and sit by me. We will talk of this matter before us.’

  They came together to the dais where Tarsin’s throne stood. Coralyn and Kalide stood beside it, clad in white and gold trimmed with red jewels. They were a dazzling pair and bowed gracefully, their lips curled in smiles that did not touch their eyes, identically blue and watchful. Tarsin did not look at them as he mounted his throne.

  ‘Chieftain Fulig,’ Coralyn said, stepping in front of Fulig so that he was forced to stop. ‘We have not spoken in many seasons. I hope that this occasion will see old wounds mended.’

  Fulig looked past her as he spoke. ‘Chieftain Coralyn, honour wounded does not heal.’

  There was a flash of pure hatred in Coralyn’s eyes but before she could speak again, Tarsin impatiently called Fulig to join him on the dais, and gestured to a chair, and Fulig stepped around Tarsin’s mother.

  ‘That is my chair,’ Kalide said, sounding for all the world like the petulant younger brother that he was.

  ‘You will sit elsewhere,’ Tarsin told him coldly. ‘Perhaps for this one day you can imagine life as it might have been if your brother had not been chosen Holder. Mother, why do you not accompany him? I am sure that the two of you have much to discuss. I understand that you are planning a crossing to Iridom soon. I suppose you would have discussed it with me, eventually.’

  Kalide whitened to the lips, and even Coralyn grew still. Her smile was deadly. ‘I see that your mood is not good, Lord Holder. No doubt the tattle mouths about the court have soured you with their gossip.’ She bowed and all but dragged the white-faced Kalide after her, talking furiously into his ear.

  Ember turned her attention back to Tarsin and willed herself closer, humming to facilitate her control. She wanted to hear what was said.

  ‘You must be careful of yourself,’ Fulig said with genuine concern, his eyes on Kalide and his mother, who were in the process of ordering those seated at the closest table to decamp.

  ‘A holder can no more be careful and rule than a chieftain,’ Tarsin said. Now he seemed quite calm and controlled. ‘Well, what have you to say about this match? Are you here to witness the betrothing or to disinherit Kerd? Or perhaps you wish to petition me to forbid the match? I tell you that I am inclined to grant whatever you would ask of me,’ he added with a malicious glance at his mother, who was now seated and watching him like a hawk.

  ‘Would you forbid it, if I petitioned you?’ Fulig asked, but curiously rather than with real intent.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ Tarsin conceded. ‘It is in my belief that, however it may seem, this match may ultimately be for the greater good. It is troublesome to have two septs so at odds, and it has benefited neither. And all over the foolish passion of a man for a woman who was not worthy of it,’ he said, his eyes flickering to his mother.

  Fulig gave him a startled look but chose not to respond to this provocative remark.

  ‘So, then, I think you do not wish me to forbid the match,’ Tarsin said. ‘Will you pass over Kerd and choose another to succeed you as chieftain, then?’

  Fulig sighed and shook his head. ‘I was enraged to begin with. The thought of … well, it did not sit well with me that my son would join with the stepdaughter of Coralyn of Iridom. But to forbid the betrothing might mean losing him. Faylian advised me to suggest that I persuade my son to reduce his offer to a year-end bond.’

  ‘A clever move. You retain your son but ensure that he can be rid of Unys before he assumes control of Vespi.’ Fulig made no response to this speculation, but Ember guessed from the slight discomfort on the other man’s face, that the Holder had voiced his motivations a little too bluntly. ‘Faylian,’ Tarsin continued, and his eyes began to wander again. ‘I never liked the woman much.’

  ‘I do not think she likes herself much, but she has been a true and faithful counsellor,’ Fulig said. ‘Where is Alene? I was looking forward to speaking with her after all these seasons.’

  ‘She will come. She returned only yesterday from her hut. She petitioned to see me, but I did not wish it.’ Tarsin’s eyes returned to focus and shifted back to Fulig. ‘So, you wish no condition upon this match?’

  ‘I came to witness the ceremony,’ Fulig said gravely. ‘Though I have not seen the girl yet.’

  ‘That does not surprise me; I am sure my mother will have made sure that the vain little pelflyt was not available, because you will see what Kerd cannot,’ Tarsin observed maliciously.

  ‘I do have one request,’ Fulig said very mildly, and now his eyes were moving about the hall, but not as if he sought anyone’s face in particular.

  Tarsin gave him a look of expectant delight. ‘I knew that you would not let it be all Coralyn’s way. What price do you put upon this?’

  ‘I ask it for your ears only and I would further ask that, if you agree, you will make the request your own when you announce it.’

  ‘I am agog,’ Tarsin said. ‘What would you have?’

  ‘The child, if there is one. That it shall be fostered to me. I will provide well for it.’

  Tarsin burst out laughing. ‘Of that I have no doubt. Oh, what a slap in the face for my mother. And clever, for it will bind the child to Vespi and away from my mother. Very well, I will do it. Indeed I wish it had been my own idea. So, then, let the celebrations begin.’

  These latter words were said loudly and it seemed to Ember that those gathered about relaxed fractionally. A balladeer entered and began to perform a long romantic tale as servitors began delivering drink and platters of food to the tables. Guests continued to arrive and, at length, Ember noticed Alene enter clad in her usual black raiment, but her hair, though loose as usual, was trimmed with tiny sprigs of red and yellow flowers. Her expression, as ever, was sternly serene. Tareed walked with her, in the myrmidon festive attire of a white tunic with gold trimmings, and bearing the shorter ceremonial
javelin which, Tareed had once assured her, was still an efficient weapon; but there was no sign of Feyt. A servitor brought them to a table near the rear of the room, and Alene accepted it graciously, though it was a calculated slight.

  Ember willed herself to the soulweaver, to hear what she was now saying quietly into the ear of the young myrmidon.

  ‘… uneasy that we have heard no word from her. It is unlike Feyt,’ Alene was saying.

  ‘Do you think they did not manage to get into the citadel?’ Tareed asked. Her tone was grim but her expression, like Alene’s, was pleasantly bland.

  ‘I do not know. I wish that I dared to vision by my will, instead of accepting the vague visions of random dream segues, but the upheaval in the Void continues. Maybe it is only that my chit to Solen was intercepted before it could reach its destination. I do wonder why we were permitted to move about freely. Indeed, on the way here, I truly could not guess how I would come to this celebration as I had visioned, given that I expected us to be arrested on our arrival.’

  ‘Maybe Coralyn thought better of it,’ Tareed said. ‘Or maybe she had a better use for us, apparently free.’

  ‘You think she uses us as bait?’ Alene asked.

  ‘Maybe someone wanted to see who you sent messages to and who responded. No doubt they were disappointed to find a dozen orders with a dozen merchants for various frivolous clothes and foods. The best way to find out if Anyi reached his destination would be for me to go down to the citadel. If I am stopped, you will know we are prisoners. If not, I will return soon with news.’

  ‘I think you are right, and indeed it might be wise for you to go soon. I know you do not like the idea of leaving me, but no harm will come to me in such a public place, and you will have a better chance of slipping out with all the fuss.’

  Tareed might have objected, but all at once her mouth fell open. ‘I … it must be the Draaka!’ she said.

  A woman in a red dress had entered and was gliding down the length of the room, and slowly the tables grew silent. Like Alene, clearly she had once been a great beauty. There was a subdued sensuality about her, and the suggestion of greed in her full lower lip belied the stern ascetic expression on her face. Behind her walked a tall, hatchet-faced older woman with a severe mouth and cool, calculating eyes, and a very fat, bald man with red lips. Both attendants wore dark robes, and behind them came other draakira. All wore the blazing red emblem of the draakan cult on their breasts, save their mistress.

  Coming to the foot of Tarsin’s dais, the Draaka bowed low and then smiled up at him. Ember willed herself to them just in time to hear Tarsin ask her about the whereabouts of the visionweaver.

  ‘She lives, Lord Holder, for I have seen her in a vision sent by my master, the Void spirit,’ the Draaka announced in a thrillingly beautiful voice. ‘But I have yet to pinpoint her location.’

  ‘Speak not this blasphemy,’ Fulig thundered, bristling with outrage. He looked at Tarsin. ‘Forgive my interruption, but I do not wish this woman at the betrothing of my son speaking of her master the Void spirit. She and her people have no business here.’

  Tarsin said nothing for a long breath, then he waved a dismissive hand at the Draaka. ‘It is his right. Therefore leave us.’ His smile faded into a look of cool command. ‘Send word when your vision is more focused.’

  The Draaka cast a swift, blank, black look at Fulig before turning back to Tarsin. ‘I obey, Lord Holder,’ she said. She and her entourage swept from the room and as soon as the doors had closed behind them, the music swelled forth as the balladeer continued his performance.

  ‘I thank you, and I am sorry for speaking without your permission, Lord Holder,’ Fulig said.

  ‘It is no matter. You are an honest man and sometimes honest men do rage at what they see, though it does them little service. In truth I am glad you gave me an excuse to send the woman away. Perhaps I should have her arrested for treason after all.’

  ‘I confess that I should have been glad had you refused to allow her to present herself and her foul party,’ Fulig said.

  ‘I might have done it but she sent her servitor to me with the gift of a darklin and I bade the girl invoke it.’

  ‘The servitor?’ Fulig looked startled.

  ‘A servitor of the Draaka. Unimportant in herself, but I wanted to speak with her, for she swooned before she could tell what she saw. I had her carried back to her mistress, intending to have her brought to me when she regained her senses, but before I could do so, the Draaka sent her to the citadel on some errand and she vanished. I am afraid that I was too eager, and so I had the Draaka brought to me, for she had sworn that she would be able to locate the visionweaver using darklins.’

  ‘Convenient that the servitor vanished,’ Fulig said lightly. ‘Anyone might have guessed that you would react as you did, and summon her mistress for an explanation. Now, because of this summons, of course, she is officially free to conduct her business in your realm.’

  Tarsin gave him a sharp look. ‘You think the Draaka hid the servitor on purpose from me?’ Fulig only shrugged eloquently. Tarsin’s face closed into a scowl. ‘Perhaps tonight I shall inform my mother that her guest is to return to Acantha.’

  There was a little silence between them as the balladeer completed his song and received his dues. Then Fulig said, ‘If it does not anger you to satisfy my curiosity, it seems to me that you have some strong affection for this visionweaver.’

  ‘I wanted to know what happened to her. You know, of course, that she saved my life. Well it does not matter. In truth it is like she is dead, for she was dying. Yet it nags at me that she vanished the same night as the assassin. Perhaps it is only that I want to know what transpired.’ He looked at Fulig and his expression became suddenly suspicious. ‘I believe that one of your ships carried the assassin from Ramidan.’

  ‘I tell you frankly that I do not believe Bleyd of Fomhika to be a killer, but none of my people would break Edict. Perhaps he and the visionweaver were both killed by the true assassin,’ Fulig said.

  ‘Did Faylian vision of this?’ Tarsin demanded.

  ‘Faylian is not in the habit of offering information unless I request it, and I confess that my mind was more upon Kerd and this betrothal than on the fugitives. Besides which, the Void is turmoiled and has been difficult to enter purposefully for some time now. Surely Alene has spoken of it to you?’

  ‘Excuses,’ snarled Tarsin. ‘Soulweavers have always been good at excuses.’ His eyes went to Alene so swiftly that it was obvious to her that, despite his apparent inattention to his soulweaver, he knew exactly where she was. Alene’s face turned to him as if she felt his gaze, but it was impossible to tell from her contained expression what she thought.

  The blaring of the long ceremonial horns to announce the entry of Unys drew all eyes, including those of the Holder. Unys looked to Ember like a Japanese princess in heavy stiff regalia. Her elaborate headdress glittered with so much gold and jewels that it must have made her neck ache, and her green dress was so encrusted with jewels and embroidery that it could have stood alone. The weight of it all made her walk stiff and jerky as if she were a mechanical doll. She wore a long, jewelled golden spike on the end of her smallest finger and this was attached to a ring further up the finger by a thin gold chain and then five spider-web thin chains ran from the ring to a band about her wrist. This, Ember remembered from one conversation with Tareed, must be the Iridomi version of a betrothal bracelet. She could not see Unys’s face because a beaded veil covered it, falling from a jewelled diadem to her chin. She travelled the length of the room and then she knelt, with assistance from two liveried Iridomi servitors, at the foot of the dais before Tarsin’s chair.

  Tarsin rose, and now it seemed to Ember that there was pity in his eyes. He stepped down and raised her to her feet and Ember willed herself close enough to hear when he whispered to her that there was still time for her to change her path.

  ‘I would be betrothed, Lord Holder,’ Unys said in a
stiff, breathless voice.

  ‘So be it,’ Tarsin said softly, and he stepped back and raised his hands. ‘Here is Unys of Iridom. Who would betroth with her?’

  This was the moment, Ember knew, when anyone with a prior claim or protest should speak.

  But Kerd alone spoke. ‘I will gladly take her to me,’ his voice rang out, and then he was striding down the room, his face radiant with joy. Unys turned to him and offered a limp hand, but before he kissed it, he clasped about it a shining circle. Ember heard an intake of breath and saw that Fulig had half started from his chair. But then he settled back, his face impassive.

  ‘A feinn-bane bracelet. A great gift for a year-end betrothal,’ Tarsin said.

  ‘It was my mother’s,’ Kerd said loudly. ‘She gave it me on her deathbed and bade me give it to my one true love. Let all know that it will not leave her hand until the breath leaves her body. My love shall endure as steadfastly as this bracelet.’ There was determination in his voice, and, despite everything, Ember smiled at the way he had managed to declare the extent of his love for Unys, despite his father’s insistence on a short wedding contract.

  ‘Will you give yourself, heart whole, to this man, Kerd of Vespi, who will one day rule Vespi as its chieftain?’

  ‘I will give myself,’ Unys spoke the formal words in little more than a whisper. ‘If he be free and belongs to no other and there are no objections.’

  There was another pause, and this was the moment in which Fulig might speak. Kerd looked openly at his father, his plain gentle face reflecting love mingled with apprehension.

  ‘Then I bind you two by Holder’s Decree,’ Tarsin said. ‘But there is one condition I place upon this betrothal.’

  There was a silence and everyone looked alarmed or interested to see what might be said, for clearly this was not part of the ritual.

  ‘What is it, Lord Holder? Command and we will obey,’ Kerd said gravely.

  ‘If there is issue of this union, I decree that it is to be given to Fulig of Vespi at its weaning, and he will raise and educate the child and provide handsomely for it.’

 

‹ Prev