Then Ashre stepped between them ... but not the kit that Falon remembered. He was taller, his grayish fur darkening. And though there was still a youthful gleam in his clear eyes, there was something else.
“Put down your weapon, Taline,” Ashre said to her.
“Step aside, Ashre. This is my dance with Falon ... and I’ll finish it—”
Ashre shook his head. “He’s not the traitor,” Ashre said gently. He took a step closer to her. He raised a hand to her.
And then they could all see the images ... inside their minds. Rhow talking with Plano ... Anarra’s attempt on Falon’s life ... the assassin at the western wall ... Each one of them saw the images, images Falon knew had to be conjured by Ashre.
Slowly Taline started to lower her blade.
“But—” she sputtered. “I didn’t know—”
“None of us did, my dear,” Caissir said, stepping up to the rock.
Taline let her blade fall to the ground.
“I’ve been a fool....”
“No,” Falon said, coming close to her. “Your father regretted his actions. He faced his deeds bravely ... with honor.”
She fell against him then, crying, digging her claws into Falon’s fur. “I almost killed you—killed you, when it was my father who was the traitor.”
“He fought bravely for the city, Taline. Without his leadership, it could have been lost.”
“Yes,” Caissir said, “that’s quite right.” He looked up at the sky. “Do you think we could find someplace dry to continue this discussion?”
Falon smiled, still holding Taline close. “Yes, a cave ... just up a bit.”
“A cave, eh?” Caissir said, making a funny frown. “Well, I guess we can’t be too choosy….”
Falon led them up.
•
The fire made a thick smudgy smoke that rose straight up to the top of the cave, before being sucked out by the cold winds rolling off the mountain.
“He’s been an exemplary student, Falon. Absolutely the best.”
“And you want to come back to Tizare with me?” Falon asked Ashre, still not used to seeing him older, no longer just a little kit.
“Yes,” Ashre said sneaking a glance at Caissir. “I’d also like it if Caissir could come too.”
Falon laughed aloud, trying not to stir Taline. She was curled beside him, close to the fire. Her head rested on his knee and she slept peacefully. She admitted that she had been hunting him, without rest, for days.
“Caissir? Why not? We have room for plenty of scoundrels in the city.”
“It was Elezar,” Caissir said quietly. “He’s the one who sent a messenger to us that you might need some help.”
“A loyal friend....”
Falon saw Ashre look at Caissir.
There’s more here than meets the eye, he thought. It may be that I’ll never know what the two of them are up to.
“Well,” said Caissir, “I guess I’ll turn in. It’s a long trip back to Tizare.” He moved to the corner and curled up, facing away from the fire,
Ashre slid closer to Falon.
“I thought I should tell you ...” he started to say, “though Caissir didn’t want me to say anything.”
“What, Ash?”
“There are dark days ahead for mrem ... and not just in Tizare ... in all the cities.”
“I thought as much. I’ve been reading the old tablets.”
Ashre stole a glance at Caissir. “Caissir believes some things are best kept among ... among us. But there are battles and treachery ahead that will be very difficult ... very.”
Falon laughed. “You’re beginning to sound like an old mrem, Ash.”
But Ashre shook his head. “It’s why we want to go with you. Others will be with the other kings, in their cities. But you must know this, Falon. There’s pain ahead for you ... and loss....’”
Falon watched the young mrem’s eyes water, sparkling in the firelight.
“But Falon,” Ashre said, finally, a smile breaking out on his face, “there will also be great, great joy.”
Falon reached out and for the last time he thought—recognizing that things had indeed changed—he ruffled Ashre’s pointy ears.
“Now go to sleep.... it’s an early start in the morning.” Ashre grinned, and crawled to a spot well away from the fire.
And Falon sat there, his fur just about dry now, thinking of what Ashre had said.
He felt Taline stir, stretching slowly, reaching out into the air, before her eyes popped open.
“And what about me?” she said, looking at him.
“Eh? What do you mean?” Falon said.
She looked up at him, her eyes soft, sleepy now. “Do I get to go back to Tizare with you?”
“You mean you want to?” he said, smiling.
She looked thoughtful, then nodded.
“I heard what Ashre said ... I’d like to be there ... to help you.”
He reached down, and let his hand trail the taut curves of her body.
“So beautiful ...” he whispered, “even when angry.”
She stretched out, and he saw her take a quick look at Caissir and Ashre. Their snores, a good octave apart, filled the cave.
“Yes,” he said, letting her guide him on top of her, “you can come back with us.” He brought his hands to her cheek, stroking the soft fur.
“After all,” he laughed, nuzzling her neck, rubbing his nose against hers, “if you didn’t, what would I do for a queen?”
THE NOISE of the two bands, both of them playing at the same time, competing for the attention of the great crowds, was almost too much for Falon to bear.
He had asked Taline to take the newborn kits away, convinced that such a racket had to be unhealthy for them. But she laughed out loud, and swirled away, enjoying the pomp and partying that went with a royal birth....
Especially when the birth is quadruplets, two males and two females, each one friskier than the next.
A small squad of nayas hovered near the large play crib, pulling this one off the back of the other, making sure one of the females with a penchant for climbing didn’t use her tiny claws to escape the netted enclosure.
Of course the guests oohed and aahed over the four kits—that is, when they weren’t stuffing themselves with fangle eggs from the north sea or pusto cheese spread on crisp green parra leaves. The wine flowed like water, and already some of the highlander clansmrem were dancing energetically around the grand ballroom.
It was a great party, but it was not one that Falon was enjoying.
Since assuming the throne, he had discovered a number of things about himself.
He liked his solitude. Whether from the habit of sitting on top of a forlorn mountaintop, or from the loneliness of ruling, he liked being by himself, or with just Taline and the newborns.
He even found himself staying apart from Caissir and Ashre. Caissir occupied a number of posts in his royal cabinet, none of which he seemed to care about. Mostly, Caissir was there to give some thoughtful advice or voice some ancient witticism that only convinced Falon to proceed in the direction he had already planned.
Ashre always seemed too busy to stay with him for long. One week the kit was learning all the maneuvers of the Tizarian army, the next he was discovering hidden passageways and corridors that even Taline knew nothing about.
And when he wasn’t running around, Falon would spy Ashre and Caissir, talking quietly, secretly....
And there was something else Falon discovered.
He took his ruling very seriously.
At first he introduced no changes to the way Tizare ran. The citizens appreciated that.
But before long he started tinkering with the old way things were done. He remembered how easy it had been for him to enter the palace, and he took steps to ma
ke it more secure. The great numbers of swindlers, cheats, liars, and mountebanks were forced from their prime position in front of the palace. Instead, a new park was created.
Classes were set up to train the soldiers in fighting the liskash, classes that taught the weak points, and the strength of the Eastern Lords.
While not officially approved, magic was removed from the list of unlawful activities, and Caissir helped set up a body to examine the claims of any magicians.
And as those first days stretched into the first year, he found himself continually preoccupied with thoughts of the East. Tizare was an exposed city ... it would be the first to go, well before Ar.
It was something Falon wanted to prevent.
One of the servants carrying a heavy metal flagon of wine came by and started to fill his half-empty goblet. He shook his head.
“No, I’ve—”
“Why so pensive, Falon? You don’t seem to be having a good time.”
Falon turned around and faced Caissir.
“Oh, just lost ... to my thoughts....”
“What?” The wizard beamed. “No dancing at your own kits’ party?”
“Perhaps later....”
“I see,” Caissir said, looking over at the swirling mrem on the dance floor, “that Taline has been wasting no time. You’re acting more like her father than her husband, Falon....”
And that’s how I feel, Falon wanted to say. I’ve changed, without wanting it or knowing it.
“Perhaps you’re right, Caissir,” Falon said finally, watching Taline spin gracefully on the floor, her crimson and silver robes brilliant in the candlelight.
He handed Caissir his goblet. “Watch this for me,” he said, walking out onto the floor.
The dancers parted as he came, his aura already a presence that he couldn’t control. Many bowed their heads, while others just backed away a few steps.
Taline went on dancing madly, oblivious to his stalking of her.
Until he was there, as she spun on the arm of some effete-looking noble from Ar. The noble froze instantly.
“What’s wrong?” Taline asked, laughing merrily, and then she turned and saw Falon.
“Falon—what is it? Is there anything—”
Falon shook his head. “I’d like the pleasure of a dance with my queen.”
She grinned at him. “Why, certainly.” And she curtsied before him.
The noble vanished to the buffet table.
Now he held her close, his movements stilted, almost clumsy. But her eyes radiated complete pleasure in their dance together.
“I’m so terrible,” he said quietly. “I dance like a herd-tender—”
“Shush,” she said, bringing a finger up to his lips. “Your dancing has gotten much better. And I’d much rather be led by you than some powdered dandy from Ar.”
He gave her a warm smile. “You had better say that.”
“But we should stop soon,” she said, looking over to a table near the back wall of the great hall. It was piled high with gifts from the hundreds of guests. “Everyone will want to see their gifts opened and properly acknowledged.”
Now Falon looked at the pile. “That will take forever.”
“The nayas will help ... besides, it is the custom.”
He brought her close and squeezed her hard to him. “It is not a custom that interests me.”
“Still,” she said laughing, “it must be done.”
“Then let’s get it over with.”
She led him over to the table, Signaling to the two bands to stop their playing. The crowd, knowing what was coming, pressed close to the gift table. Falon looked around for Caissir, and saw him lingering near the back of the crowd, talking to Ashre.
Taline proved master of the situation, making a pleasant speech thanking their hundreds of guests, and arranging for the kits to make one last appearance before being whisked away to their nursery.
Falon saw that Taline, despite her engorged teats, was drawing some highly appreciative glances from some of the young mrem.
And then the gifts were opened. Quickly, smoothly, each one was unwrapped, held aloft, its giver acknowledged while the next in line was already being prepared.
Falon wondered whether he could slip away ... perhaps to the library ... or maybe even to his bed. Enough partying for one day! he thought.
Then the nayas had trouble with one of the presents. It was a large crate, almost the size of a table. Everyone grew greatly interested as it was hauled out onto the floor.
Even Falon took a few steps closer.
“They need some tools ...” Taline said, gesturing at the wooden crate, its rough slats all close together.
Within moments, a few of the palace servants were prying open the crate, digging their metal bars into the edges.
Slowly the wood started to separate, and everyone came close to see what wonder might be in the crate.
“No! Don’t open it!”
Falon turned. It was Ashre screaming from across the room.
He started running towards Falon.
Taline looked confused, and the crowd lost some of their happy smiles.
But it was too late.
Just as he screamed one end popped open, and the whole crate fell apart, like some kit’s puzzle.
The crowd yelled, a high shriek that made Falon turn around, looking to see what might be wrong.
It was in the crate.
An animal unlike anything he’d ever seen.
And he wondered, how could it have rested so silently ... so long, inside the crate?
It crawled out on four stumpy legs. Its bumpy head hid egg-white eyes that seemed incapable of vision.
“Taline!” Falon yelled, blocked completely from reaching her.
The monster was right there.
He started to push through the crowd, throwing some of the guests to the side, some to the floor, fighting to reach Taline.
He watched Taline’s hand reach to her side, for her sword—that wasn’t there.
“Taline!” he screamed again, fighting to get to her. The creature moved sluggishly too, slowly, as if it had just awakened.
“By the All-Mother, move!” Falon yelled at the guests in his way.
Then Caissir was there beside him.
“Careful, Falon ... It’s a demon ... a magical creature. I don’t know how strong it is.”
But Falon barely listened, and just kept fighting his way to Taline.
The creature turned, cutting Taline off. She climbed on top of the table.
“No!” Falon yelled.
Then the creature, growing more agile by the moment, raised itself up and rested its two front legs on the table.
Taline was back against the wall, with no escape.
Her eyes locked on Falon and told him one simple fact.
I need help.
“Well, if I’m going to try it I might as well ...” Caissir muttered to himself.
Falon didn’t see him raise his hand, mumbling to the sky. All he knew was that all of a sudden the crowd wasn’t there ... Falon was somehow above the crowd, moving straight for the demon, soaring over their heads.
The screaming grew even more ear-piercing.
Then he landed at the foot of the table.
The demon took no note of him, just concentrated on inching closer to Taline.
“Thanks for hurrying,” she called down to him.
“I had help,” he said.
He brought his sword—the one from the battle for Tizare—straight up into the air. And then, down, aiming for whatever spine the creature might have.
It howled out its protest, turning, standing on two legs. It looked down at Falon, and then reached out.
“Your sword!” Taline called to him.
He f
lipped his weapon through the air, watching Taline catch it neatly.
The demon reached out for Falon.
Just as Taline drove Falon’s sword right through its back.
It moaned, greenish blood gurgling from its throat, and then collapsed, kneeling before Falon.
Taline jumped off the table.
“Thank you for letting me finish that up.”
“My pleasure.” He smiled, wrapping an arm around her.
“Next time just be sure to wear a sword under your gown....”
•
“It says,” Caissir said, fingering the tablet that came with the demon-gift, “ ‘In Honor of the New Ruler of Tizare.’ ” He handed the small wax tablet to Falon.
“Any idea where it might have come from?” Falon asked.
Caissir shook his head. “Not really. Except that I’m sure the Eastern Lords are eager to take their revenge on you.”
Ashre was sitting at their feet.
“And you, Ash. Any idea where this came from?”
The kit shook his head.
And when Falon looked back at Caissir, he could see that he wanted to say something. “What is it, Caissir?”
“You had a close call, Falon, and there will be more ... and we may not be able to help you. And that’s why—well—
“Caissir, you never were any good at spitting anything out. Just tell me what you want to say.”
They were in the great hall, empty and cavernous now, with the carcasses of a dozen trumpeter fowl and a couple of uxen lying like corpses at the end of a battle.
“We don’t know enough, Falon, about the Eastern Lords. I want to leave ... to go East. Perhaps pose as a renegade. What I learn might save you ... your kits ... Tizare.”
“It’s much too dangerous—”
“No more so than going on without knowing the power of the Eastern Lords.”
But there was more, Falon thought, studying the chubby old mrem ... And?”
“I want to take Ashre. He’s young, and he can carry the information we find throughout the Western cities. And, Falon, I may need his help ... his power ....”
Falon nodded, and crouched down next to Ashre. “So what do you say, Ash?”
EXILED Wizard of Tizare Page 32