"What are you talking about?" I grasped his shoulders and shook him. "The glider turned Merius into a hawk--that makes no sense. You're talking gibberish, Jared."
"Ask Sir Mordric--he was there--that day on the parapet, I'll never forget it. God, Lady Safire screamed . . . and Sir Merius, he didn't even remember it. Maybe she'll change back--he did. Soon as he landed on the parapet, he was himself again . . ."
Deciding he was having the male version of hysterics, I slapped him, the sharp sound and stubbly feel of his cheek jarring me back to my senses. It barely seemed to register with him--he just gaped at me with blank eyes and murmured something about "Silver hawk with dagger talons . . ."
I turned away from him and back towards the courtyard and the hypnotically beautiful bird. As long as I looked at it, I could pretend we were in heaven and not this hell where I'd just witnessed a murderous mob burn my best friend to death.
The shifting swirls and lines of its plumage mesmerized me as I drew closer--flashes of purple, scarlet, crimson, orange, and gold in patterns that changed whenever it moved. It stood a little taller than my elbow, the top of its crest almost as high as my shoulder. "What kind of bird is it? It's shaped like a dove, but no dove is that big," I said to Randel. "And no bird I know of gives off light." Dagmar swayed behind him, a pale, silent reed of a woman, bent by the merest breeze.
"Watch where you're walking, my lady," Randel said flatly.
I looked down and shrieked. For on the ground was the charred figure of a man, burnt beyond recognition, burnt to charcoal. My hem brushed against his hand, and his whole arm disintegrated into ash. I gagged.
"There's twelve of them. All burnt to a crisp. I just don't understand how--so they set her on fire and then got so careless they all ended up on fire too? All burnt in an instant? Bodies don't burn that fast. And where's she--none of these look small," he choked, "small enough to be a woman her size. Did she run? Did you see anything like that?"
I shook my head and caught a lurid glitter amidst the remains of the arm at my feet. A ring. I gave a strangled cry, thinking it was one of Safire's rings. However, when I picked it up, it was far too large and heavy for her hand. A golden setting, with two Cormalen stags leaping at the sides of a huge, square cut ruby that flickered bloody in the fire glow. It burned against my palm.
"The bishop's signet ring--good riddance." With a mirthless laugh, I tossed it down on the cobbles. Then I turned back to the bird. It had stopped singing and now watched us with its head slightly cocked.
I slowly reached out my hand. Even though I knew I risked a pecking from its sharp beak, I couldn't help myself. It was so beautiful. The bird stepped forward, its head coming to rest on my palm. A soothing warmth emanated from its soft feathers as it gazed up at me. Healing sparks hummed through my blood to my heart, the ache leaving my muscles so suddenly I almost slid to the cobbles. My eyes locked with the bird's eyes--the irises burned like fiery peridots, lit by a vast inner light.
"Safire," I whispered. "Jared was right." I turned to Randel and Dagmar, heard my voice grow loud, unsteady as I said, "This bird is Safire. The fire transformed her, somehow."
Randel's mouth dropped open. Dagmar fell in a dead faint, and he futilely clutched behind him as if to catch her, his unblinking gaze fixed on me and the bird. Safire gave a low, cooing warble from her new throat, then spreading her wings, she rose effortlessly in the air as if she'd been flying her whole life. The men's bodies dissolved into eddies of ash from the wind in the wake of her flight. Her song echoing back to us in a haunting refrain, she soared off and took the light with her, a flame on the moon, soon lost in the night.
Chapter Twenty-Six--Mordric
Royal Palace, Corcin, Eastern Cormalen
October, last year
For the third time in the past hour, I tossed aside Salazar's book of rhetoric and rose to pace around the chamber. With Eden and Evi visiting the House of Long Marsh tonight, I had thought it would be a good evening to concentrate on work. Prince Segar had asked me to write a report about how best to counter the poisonous influence of SerVerinese propaganda on our diplomatic relations with foreign courts. However, every time I tried to put pen to foolscap or consult Salazar's brilliantly phrased vitriol about us pale-eyed barbarians, all my fine ideas fluttered away, my mind a sour whirlpool of worry. I hated it when they were all away and I couldn't keep an eye on them. Thank God Eden and Safire and the babies would be back here tomorrow. That left only Merius off gallivanting. Damn him, why did he have to go off for an entire fortnight, perhaps longer if the seas and winds didn't cooperate? I could have used his help with this report.
My heels itching in my boots, I walked over to the balcony window. I unlatched the casement and pulled it open, hoping the cool night air would revive my brain. The palace courtyard lay unnaturally quiet below, only one lone horseman crossing it. Hooves clopped against the cobbles, the sharp clatter softening as he entered the stables and disappeared from view. As the hoof beats faded, another sound slowly grew in my awareness, so faint at first I almost doubted I heard it. It sounded like a woman singing in one of those plays Eden was always dragging me to, a woman with a high, full voice that left men weak at the knees.
The voice swelled in volume as it came closer, but try as I might, I could discern no words in that ebb and flow of golden sound. How odd. I stepped out on my balcony, trying to see if I could glimpse the woman singing. The guards at the edges of the courtyard looked around too, their expressions puzzled in the torchlight.
As the sound drew nearer, I realized it was coming from overhead. I glanced up, expecting to see the singer out walking along one of the upper balconies or parapets perhaps. Instead I saw an orange comet soar across the sky and then descend upon us. I stared at the approaching fireball in terrified amazement, my entire body frozen. Were we being invaded? Was it a falling star? Had one of Renfrew's experiments with cannon powder gone horribly wrong? My last feeling before it hit was gratitude that Eden, Evi, Merius, Safire, and Dominic were far from here. I could go to my death peacefully as long as I knew they were safe.
I shut my eyes. But then there was no impact, no explosion, only that strange song, even louder now. My eardrums throbbed with it. Maybe I had died, and this was the afterlife. At least it didn't seem like hell--when I thought about such things, which was rarely, I figured hell my likely final destination.
My eyes flew open. A large bird perched in the center of the palace courtyard, its open beak pointed toward the heavens as that siren's voice undulated from its throat. All along the walls of the palace, windows and balcony doors banged open as people moved en masse outside, drawn by the song. No one spoke. They all appeared to be transfixed at the sight of the bird. It looked like a giant pigeon clothed in rich-hued motley, its feathers shining with a fiery light, the most peculiarly beautiful creature I had ever seen.
A couple of the guards in the courtyard raised their bows and reached for arrows with trembling hands. With simultaneous, spare movements I would have taken pride in as their commander in battle, movements that now made my insides knot in inexplicable horror, they fitted the arrows to their bowstrings and took aim at the bird. I found my mouth open, the words rising in my throat to warn the creature, but there was no need. At that instant, both bows burst into flames in the guards' hands. The men exclaimed in shock and pain, their ruined weapons falling useless to the cobbles. Another guard ran across the courtyard to his comrades' aid, his sword raised, ready to hack off the bird's head. The sword suddenly glowed red as if fresh from a smith's fire, the hilt melting in his hand. The guard fell and writhed on the ground, clutching his burned hand and screaming. No more guards attempted to kill the bird.
The mingled odor of charred flesh and hot metal rose to my nostrils, the wound over my heart flaring in memory. The guard's red hot sword--it looked like my dagger the day Safire had pulled it from my chest, the day she had saved my life. A ripple of startled recognition prickled from my heels all the way up to the ba
ck of my scalp, my neck hairs standing on end. This bird was Safire. How I knew, I had no idea. I just knew it was her, just as the weirhawk had been Merius that day. But how?
A peal of maniacal laughter rang in the night, drowning out Safire's song. Startled, I glanced up, toward the royal balcony. King Arian had climbed on top of the railing, his night robe flapping like black wings as he held up his arms. His tall, bony frame shook with laughter, the high-pitched, unsteady shriek of someone gone mad.
"Your Majesty?" Prince Segar and several royal guards crowded out on the balcony behind him. "Father?" Prince Segar said, his voice calm. "What are you doing?"
"I'll kill the harpy," King Arian declared, pointing at Safire. "Her siren call doesn't fool me. I know what she is." He swayed as he shifted his feet on the railing.
Prince Segar reached up his hand and tried to grasp the edge of the king's trailing sleeve. "Father, please. Please come down before you fall."
King Arian ignored his son, instead gesturing at the guards frozen in the courtyard. "Kill her--kill that bird siren now, before she binds us all with her demon sorcery! Kill her, I say!" When none of the guards moved, King Arian let loose a howl of rage that bounced against the stone walls and echoed up to the moon high overhead. He leapt from the balcony, the prince and his guards lunging in vain to grab him. He hit the ground with the sickening wet crunch of many bones breaking at once, his crown toppling off and clanging across the cobbles.
Screams and cries filled the night, boots pounding down the hallways and on the stairs as men raced to the courtyard. I stayed put, though, my gaze on Safire. She had stopped singing during the king's final rant. Now she crouched and with one flap of her wings, rose into the air. She circled the perimeter, then flew toward me, landing soundlessly on the edge of my balcony. We gazed at each other for a silent moment as the world careened madly around us. Her old woman eyes glowed with a wild light, the first fire of the ancients. With shaking fingers, I touched the long, curling feathers shining bright as copper in the sun that graced her head. She chirruped like a robin greeting the day before she pinched my wrist gently with her beak. Then she took off, heading for home.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Corcin, Eastern Cormalen
November, last year
"How do you know he'll be on the Sea Hawk?" Eden asked, peering out the carriage window at the teeming wharf.
I shrugged. "I don't--it's just a guess. Randel and I think the assassin with Merius would have alerted King Rainier after Peregrine's men attacked them. There's no way Merius would dare sail on the same vessel for the return voyage, and Sea Hawk is the fastest ship in King Rainier's fleet. The harbormaster said he thought she'd dock with the tide today or tomorrow, given the date she left this port last."
"Sounds logical enough, the most logical thing anyone's said all week, actually." Eden gave a tired laugh as she settled back in the seat. Evi stirred then, her arms escaping the blanket. Her small mouth opened wide in a yawn, and she turned her head, blinking at me above the crook of Eden's elbow.
"Papa," she murmured.
"Did you hear that?" Eden exclaimed. "I think she meant it this time."
"What the hell? She didn't mean it the other times?"
Eden's lips dipped in that mocking V of a smile. "I'm sure she did. It's just babies babble so much, it's hard to tell which sounds they mean as actual words."
"Papa!" Evi screeched, her face reddening with alarming speed.
"All right, we know you mean it. God, spare our eardrums. Here." Eden deposited our daughter in my arms, the blanket dropping to the floor of the carriage.
Evi was wide awake now, her arms and legs moving in all directions under her voluminous gown like an overactive octopus trapped in a bed sheet. I grasped her hands in mine and lifted her until she stood on my lap, little heels digging into my knees. Her fingers bent around the sides of my hands under my thumbs as she gazed at me with large, dark-lashed eyes the same color as her mother's.
"Looks like her eyes are going to stay this way. You lose our wager, my dear." I smirked at Eden over Evi's wild curls.
"Not until she's a year old, I don't."
"You might as well pay up--December will be here before we know it."
"Her eyes could still change color," Eden insisted. "Just last week, Safire said . . ." She trailed off and swallowed. The blood left her face, giving her skin had a sickly, sallow cast.
"You all right?" I asked quietly as my own guts twisted.
She nodded and glanced away, pretending to be absorbed with tracing the edge of carriage window. I looked down and caught Evi watching me, her little fingers still clutched tight around my hands, her arms stretched above her head. I moved my hands from side to side. She bent her knees and swayed with my hands. Her whole body dropped, then rose as she straightened. Then, abandoning any sense of rhythm, she swung and kicked her feet every which way in a manic dance, howling laughter when I smiled at her.
"She could do that all day," Eden observed over the din.
"I bet she'll cry a lot less when she's able to walk. That's how Merius was, anyway."
"Don't say that. Now that she can crawl, it worries me when she doesn't cry--it means she's getting into something she shouldn't." A ghost of her former smile creased Eden's lips again, and some of the color returned to her cheeks as she reached out to touch Evi's hair. I was glad to see it. Just the other night she had doused the flames in our bedchamber fireplace and then sobbed like a little girl when I demanded why. When I had made the connection between her odd behavior and what had happened to Safire, I offered her some mulled wine and then held her for a long time, staring over her shaking shoulder at the smoke coiling above the damp wood in the grate. At least Eden was able to speak. Poor Dagmar had hardly been able to string two words together--when I had tried to talk to her about that night, she had looked through me in a most disconcerting manner and mumbled something about Safire's rings. Randel and I had found Safire's Landers seal ring and her troth ring in the courtyard after the incident. The rings had been in the center of the circle of the men's remains, the only bit of jewelry or clothing aside from the bishop's signet ring not consumed by the intense heat of Safire's transformation. It was inexplicable that the rings had survived, but then so many things were inexplicable at the moment.
I lowered Evidee until her feet touched the floor of the carriage. First she clung to my pants leg, then the edge of the seat, then Eden's skirt as she took several tottering steps around the small space, babbling to herself. Eden and I both watched her in silence. Her bright-eyed innocence offered a smidgeon of comfort to brace me for the hours ahead.
Randel knocked on the carriage door, our signal that the Sea Hawk was in port. I leaned over and gave Eden a quick kiss before I patted Evi's head. "Maybe she should ride in the other carriage with Bridget on the return journey," I said. "I'd like your full attention when I explain to Merius what happened, in case he has any questions I can't answer."
Eden nodded. I opened the door, a blast of cold wind from the sea forcing me to latch it behind me as quickly as possible and draw my cloak close as I stepped down to the bricked street. Heavy clouds seethed through the sky overhead, seeming to muffle the sailors' and dock rats' shouts.
"Feels like snow," I grumbled to Randel as we tramped along the wharf, dodging men and cargo. Gray water slapped the sides of the ships, salt spray stinging my lungs as I inhaled. Sea Hawk bobbed at the end of the main dock. The stevedores had just finished securing the gangplank when Merius strode down it, his cloak hood flapping back in the wind, the hulking assassin lumbering along behind him.
"Looks like we were right, sir," Randel said. "I almost wish we weren't," he added in a low tone.
"Me too, Randel." I spared a glance at him and clapped his shoulder. The man had done his best in an impossible situation, and I hated to think what might have happened if he hadn't been there. It was still a tragedy, though, and the approaching presence of my son, as yet ignorant of the fate of his
wife and unborn child, only reaffirmed the depth of my own grief. That little witch.
Merius carried what looked like an oblong bundle off to the side. As he drew closer, I noticed the small booted foot peeping out from under the edge of his cloak. So he had gone through with it and brought Sewell back with him. Hell. I had hoped he would have a change of heart and leave the boy with the nuns. It just seemed neater that way. Simpler. Certainly Sewell's absence had caused Safire pain, but wouldn't his presence have done the same? Did she really want to be reminded of her violation at Whitten's hands every time she looked at the boy? I certainly didn't want to be reminded of what Whitten had done to her, and I was sure Merius didn't either. So why had he gone through with this? What were they thinking, the heedless young fools? They didn't respond to logic and thoughts--they responded to instinct and feelings. Especially Safire. Of course, now she was a creature of pure instinct. And would be forevermore, according to Rankin.
I cupped my hand over my mouth and sucked air through my nose. My breath whistled through the sudden chasm that had cracked open inside, the dark emptiness of sorrow. How could I possibly tell Merius what had happened? I couldn't even tell it to myself. My thoughts still raced ahead, based on assumptions that had been certainties a week ago, the certainty of a world with a human Safire still in it. I was still arguing with the imaginary Merius in my mind about the wisdom of retrieving Sewell when Sewell was now the least of our worries. God, I wished for the world of a week ago, when Sewell's existence was my biggest regret where Safire was concerned, my biggest reminder that I hadn't done all I could to protect her. The world of a week ago when that sweet-tempered, sometimes infuriating, always wise witch still stood at the hub of our ragtag family, the youngest matriarch in the three provinces. What would we do without her?
"Father?"
I shook myself loose from my reverie and met Merius's gaze. "We have to talk," I heard myself say.
Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3) Page 56