Teel, he said through the link, swinging off his mount even as Hart finished dismounting. Tevis, too, was on the ground, saying something in Solindish.
"Wait!" Aidan snagged Hart's arm and pulled him back. "Let our lir do the work… too many of us might spoil their chance. And there is Dulcie to think of—"
Jennet wailed something, still clutching reins. Hart's head snapped in her direction. "Did it strike you? Jennet—did the snake bite you also?"
Wordlessly she shook her head. Tears streaked her face. "No-no—only Cluna—"
Teel danced around the snake, seducing it this way and that. From behind came Rael, snatching at the place behind its head. Talons sank deeply, locking, and then Rael rose to fly clear of them all, dangling the writhing snake.
"Here—" Hart thrust Dulcie into Aidan's arms.
Even as he did so, Tevis was at Cluna's side. The knife flashed in his hand as he cut into the soft underflesh of her forearm, bisecting fang marks already swollen and discolored. Cluna whimpered but otherwise held her silence, and Tevis set his mouth over the cuts to suck the venom from her arm. The knife, forgotten, fell to the grass.
Jennet deserted her post with the horses and came to Aidan, reaching out to clutch a hand in hers. He felt her trembling through his own flesh; through his kivarna he sensed shock, anguish, shame, and a spirit full of fear.
In Solindish, she said something. Aidan put a gentle hand on her blonde head. Hair, as always, straggled out of its braid. "I have a poor grasp of your tongue, meijhana. I am sorry."
She gulped a swallow and tried again in Homanan. "I am afraid—"
"No need," he told her quietly. "Your jehan is Cheysuli, remember? He need only call on the earth magic."
Her face was very pale. "But he only has one hand—"
"Shansu, meijhana—I promise, it makes no difference. Your jehan is not crippled."
"But he cannot be a warrior. Not a real one, because of his hand. He said so."
In the daughter he heard a measure of the father's shame and anguish. Aidan's hand tightened briefly on her head, then slipped to cup a shoulder tightly. "Your jehan is as much a warrior as any Cheysuli I know. He is denied clan-rights through old-fashioned ignorance, not a failure on his part. I promise you, meijhana, your rujholla will be well."
Cluna, crying silently, reached for Hart as he knelt to her. Tevis moved away as the father scooped up his daughter. "Bleeding—" she quavered.
"For the best," Hart told her. "Come, meijhana—I will take you back to the castle. There I can summon the earth magic."
"Why not here?" Aidan asked. "I can give you whatever help you need."
"My thanks, but no. It will be frightening enough for her, even as it heals. It will be better done in her own room, where she will feel safer. Tevis has bled her quickly enough… the rest can wait that long." He approached the horses, cradling Cluna in both arms. "Jennet?"
She broke away from Aidan, twisting hands into tunic. "My fault," she whispered. "The horse was afraid of the snake. Cluna fell when he sprang aside, and the snake bit her—" She lost her Homanan entirely and slipped again into Solindish, speaking too quickly for Aidan to decipher. But he saw Hart's compassion as he paused briefly by her side.
"No, meijhana, it is not your fault. Now mount your horse—you will come back with us." He glanced at Aidan. "Can you and Tevis bring Dulcie?"
"Of course, su'fali." Aidan smiled as the girl twisted in his arms to reach a fist in her father's direction. "I would not give her up when I have only just met her."
Tevis rose from where he had knelt to bleed Cluna. "I will bring her horse."
Distracted, Hart nodded and turned to his own mount. He set Cluna up into the saddle and hastily mounted, gathering her in against him as he hooked the cuffed stump around her abdomen. Her head tipped back against his shoulder, displaying a too-pale face. Dulcie, who had held the place first, protested in Aidan's arms.
Hart looked at Jennet. "Hurry," he told her, sending her flying to her mount. In a moment both horses and the great hawk were gone.
Aidan looked at Tevis. "No doubt he will remember to thank you when Cluna is settled. Until then, accept my gratitude."
Tevis' smile was faint. "For Cluna, if not for Blythe?"
Aidan sighed. "Aye, well… I will not contest it. You know as well as I that if I did, it would make no difference. I am neither blind nor a fool… you have won, Tevis. Be proud, but not too proud; she is still my kinswoman, and Cheysuli. When you marry one of us, you marry us all."
"If I wanted a red-haired Cheysuli as my kinsman, I would have bedded you."
Holding Dulcie, Aidan froze. And then he heard the quiet irony in Tevis' tone as the High Crags lord turned to gather up the reins of Cluna's mount, patiently cropping grass.
He smiled crookedly. Once I rid myself of regret over Blythe, I may even like the man—
Something glinted in the grass. "Wait." Aidan bent to pick up Tevis' knife. "Here—you have forgotten." He held it out.
Tevis felt at his sheath, found it empty, put out his hand with a murmured word of thanks. Aidan set the knife into Tevis' outstretched hand, and in that brief moment of contact the kivarna flared to life. Tevis was open to him.
Hostility. Pride. Barely suppressed ambition. Impatience that he must wait, when so much was his for the taking.
Aidan nearly gaped. "You do want the throne! The throne and everything else!"
Ale-brown eyes were smoky. Tevis did not even bother to ask Aidan how he knew. "Aye," he said harshly. "I want it back. I want everything back."
"Back," Aidan echoed. "But it was never yours—"
Tevis cut him off. "Not mine, but it would have been Dar's. He was heir to Solinde, even heir to Ilsa… but the shapechanger came here and took it, took her, took it all—"
"He inherited," Aidan declared, "from his father, the Mujhar, who inherited it from his father, who was bequeathed it by Carillon."
"Do you think I care about Homanan history? Cheysuli history?" Tevis stepped close. His hand gripped the knife.
"By all the gods of Solinde, shapechanger, what do you think I am? A young boy content to sit in silence while his homeland is given over to the usurper? We are not so different as that, shapechanger blood or no… I know you well enough to say with complete conviction that you would do the same."
Aidan thought it best to ignore the latter, since he was grimly aware how closely Tevis came to the truth. Instead, he focused on what he knew to be patently false. "It was hardly usurped, Solindish. Carillon won it in battle. It was his to bequeath as he wished, and it was to my kin it came. Solinde is ours, now."
"Mine," Tevis said flatly. "Or, more like, my son's." He smiled as he saw Aidan's start. "What—did you think I meant to do murder? Do you think I want Blythe merely to serve my own ends? No, shapechanger… I want Blythe for Blythe's sake, and for the sake of Solinde. The throne is not meant to be mine—I honor my ancestor-kings too much to count myself worthy of it—but if the shapechanger gets no son on the queen, then the task falls to me. I will sire the heir… and in my lifetime, if not Dar's, I will see a High Crags man on the throne."
Aidan held Dulcie more tightly as she squirmed. "And if the queen bears a son? What then, Tevis? Your plan is in disarray."
Lips parted as if Tevis intended a blistering retort. But instead he smiled. It was a crooked, twisted smile, altering his intensity into rueful acknowledgment. "If there is a son born to Ilsa, then my hopes are vanquished. AH my ambitions fail." His eyes did not waver. "My lord of Homana, I am neither a fool, nor ignorant. I want what is best for Solinde. So did Dar, even if he was unfortunate enough to go about it the wrong way—"
Aidan's tone was vicious. "He cut off my uncle's hand and then gave him to the Ihlini. To Strahan himself, who nearly destroyed him."
Tevis gestured acknowledgment. "Aye, well… that was Dar. I have been told he was impetuous and obsessed—"
"And you are not?"
Muscles flexed brief
ly in Tevis's face. "I mean no harm to you, or to the man who calls himself Prince of Solinde. There is such a thing as a peaceful revolution, my lord… if I marry Blythe and sire a son, the revolution is accomplished without bloodshed. That is how I fight."
Aidan shifted Dulcie against his shoulder, focus fragmented by her presence and her pettish discomfort. She wanted her father, not him; Aidan did not blame her.
He sighed. "Then you fight more wisely than your kinsman."
Tevis smiled faintly. "Then perhaps I will succeed where he failed."
Resentment boiled up. Aidan wanted to hit him. He did not. "Did you come here for this? Did you come down from your mountain fastness to seduce a king's daughter?"
And realized, as he asked it, he might ask it of himself, while changing the words a little. It had all been so simple: he would go to Solinde, setting aside the desperation, and find himself a wife. It would satisfy everything: rank, title, body, even the need for escape.
But there was Tevis to be faced. "Did you?" he repeated, more intensely than before. Now it applied to them both.
Tevis turned his back. Fluidly he swung up into the saddle, then looked down on Aidan. "The seduction was accomplished long before I came. It was done in writing, my lord of Homana… a courtship between two mothers desiring the best for their eldest children. They made it easy for me… I saw my chance, and I took it. Only a fool would have refused."
Aidan felt impotent. "If Blythe suffers for tins—"
Tevis gathered reins, then bent to catch Cluna's horse. "She will not," he said flatly. "I am a patriot, Homanan… a loyal Solindishman. But I am also a man. What man, looking at her, would ever want to hurt her? What man, sharing her bed, would want to drive her from it?"
Aidan could offer no answer. Holding Dulcie, bereft of speech, he watched Tevis ride away towing Cluna's horse behind him.
When he was gone, Aidan sighed and pressed a cheek against Dulcie's head. "Oh, Dulcie-meijhana, what do we do now?"
Overhead, Teel croaked. Go back to the castle, he said. There is nothing to do, here.
Disgruntled, Aidan went to his horse and mounted, taking extra care with Dulcie. Then he turned back toward Lestra.
There was nothing to do, here. But plenty to do, there.
Chapter Seven
« ^ »
Aidan found the castle in an uproar when he rode in with Dulcie. He believed at first it was because of Cluna; he discovered almost at once Ilsa was in labor.
A nursemaid came immediately for Dulcie, releasing him from his unexpected duty. The girl was glad to go, but not before she latched onto a handful of ruddy hair and tugged; Aidan, wincing, carefully peeled fingers away and freed himself, then bent and kissed Dulcie briefly on the forehead.
The nursemaid, smiling, told him he was to go at once to the prince's private solar, where the rest of the family gathered. Aidan took his leave, giving Teel his freedom to do as he wished, and went to find the others.
Hart was in a chair, perched stiffly on the edge with braced legs spread, elbows resting on thighs. Absently he massaged the skin of his forearm at the edge of the leather cuff. He hardly glanced up as Aidan entered. His dark Cheysuli face was taut and biscut-gray.
"What of Cluna?" Aidan asked. Only Blythe, Hart, and Tevis were present.
Hart shifted slightly. "In bed. The healing is done. There is a slight fever, but it will pass."
Aidan closed the door. Though he asked the question of Hart, he looked directly at Tevis. "And the queen?"
Tevis, seated with Blythe standing next to him, said nothing.
Hart abruptly thrust himself deep into the chair, stretching one side of his face out of shape as he scrubbed at it one-handed. "It will be hours, always hours. Blythe was an easy birth—" He glanced briefly at his eldest, smiling absently, then shifted in the chair as if he could find no favored position, "—but the others have been more difficult."
Quietly, Tevis unwound himself from his chair and leaned forward to pour wine. He rose, brought the cup to Aidan, handed it to him. He said nothing, but his gaze was direct and unwavering.
He wonders if I will say anything to Hart. Aidan accepted the cup. "Leijhana tu'sai."
If Tevis understood the Old Tongue, he made no indication. He merely waited.
Inwardly, Aidan sighed. Much as he disliked the situation, he saw no reason to add to Hart's concerns at the moment. Imperceptibly, he shook his head at Tevis. Once more he surrendered the war.
Something indefinable entered clear brown eyes. For a moment there was a reassessment, then an odd respect. Tevis smiled faintly. The sunlight slanting through the casements fell fully on his face, limning good bones and fine skin, shining in thick dark hair. He would, Aidan thought, sire handsome sons; the daughters, with Blythe as mother, would be beautiful.
As imperceptibly, Tevis inclined his head in thanks. Then abruptly swung on his heel and went directly to Hart. "My lord, there is something I must say."
Aidan, frowning, watched him closely. He heard the subtle deference in the High Crags dialect. He had never heard it before. Tevis was, he realized, a man of eloquent charm. Aidan began to believe he was capable of anything.
Hart merely glanced at him in distraction. "Let it wait."
"No, my lord. It cannot."
"Tevis?" Even Blythe was nonplussed.
He lifted a silencing finger without looking at her. His eyes were locked on Hart. "My lord, I must admit to you I have not been the man you believed I was. And while it is quite true I love and honor your daughter and wish only to make her happy, there is something more. I will not lie any longer."
Aidan stood very still. He plays a dangerous game.
Hart's eyes were steady as he looked into the taut face. "You mean to tell me you covet the throne of Solinde."
Color drained from Tevis. "My lord… you knew—?"
From Blythe, a blurt of shock.
Hart merely shrugged. "I have known it for some time." He glanced briefly at Aidan, then straightened in the chair. His voice was perfectly even. "You are not the first, and will not be the last. I have three other daughters."
"My lord—if you knew—?"
"—why did I allow you to remain?" Hart looked at Blythe. "Because my daughter loves you. And you, in your way, love her. What sense is there in ending something desired by you both, merely because you are ambitious?"
Tevis smoothed the velvet of his doublet over one arm. "Even if those ambitions could threaten your sovereignty?"
Hart stroked his bottom lip with a finger, contemplating the young man standing before him. Eventually, he smiled. "When you are young, it is quite easy to believe in personal convictions. It is quite easy to be completely committed to a thing, as you are to Solinde. A zealot blinds himself, as he must, in order to succeed. But in that blinding, he cuts off a part of himself that makes the difference between success and failure."
"My lord—?"
Hart smiled. "The key to your strength lies in my daughter. But if you should come against me, she will turn on you. And you will then have nothing, even as Dar did." He paused delicately. "With the same result."
Blythe's face was white. Tevis said nothing.
Hart smiled again. "You can have what you want without forcing the issue… if the queen bears me no son."
Tevis still said nothing.
Hart sighed. "Do you think I want Solinde to stay mired in internal bickering? I know very well there are still factions who desire me ousted, and who might turn to violence to accomplish it. Executing Dar of High Crags—a known traitor—silenced his followers for a time, but it will not last forever. The peace of this realm rests entirely with Ilsa—unless it rests with you."
"Me," Tevis said numbly.
"A son out of Ilsa is of Bellam's line. That line has more claim than any you can muster… High Crags is, after all, an isolated mountain domain with geographically limited power." Hart tilted his head. "If she gives me that son, the factions are undone. But if she doe
s not, then the succession falls to another. To Blythe, as you well know—through the son she could bear." Hart smiled. "It will not put you on the throne any more than it would have put Dar there… but then fathers often gain power through the manipulation of their children."
Blythe was looking at Tevis. Brief hope flickered in Aidan. If he has lost her with this…
Hart's voice was soft. "If you marry her, you stay here. You give up your claim on High Crags and become a vassal to me."
Tevis shut his eyes. Then opened them and quietly knelt before the Prince of Solinde. "My lord, I have wronged you."
Hart smiled. "You underestimated me."
The tone was heartfelt. "Aye."
"Ah, well, I have spent the last twenty-two years of my life being underestimated by the Solindish. Someday perhaps they will look past the gold I wear—and the hawk who answers my bidding—and see the man instead."
"Aye, my lord. I have no doubt they will… if they have not blinded themselves completely."
The dry irony surprised Aidan. But then it was not in Tevis to be completely undone; he was, if nothing else, a survivor. For all his thwarted ambitions, he probably would make a loyal vassal.
And a good example for the others. Aidan smiled. Su'fali, I, too, underestimated you. Perhaps one day your kin will look past the follies of your youth to the king you have become.
Hart flicked a hand. "Go. There will be another time for the oath. Take my daughter and go… I think there are things you have to say to one another—in private."
Tevis wet dry lips and rose, turning to look at Blythe. For a long moment he said nothing. Then, very quietly, "Will you come?"
Color flared in her face. "I am, if nothing else, daughter to my father. Do you think I would allow you to harm him in any way? Do you think I would let you dare?"
"No," he answered quietly. "That I have always known."
"Then be reminded of it!" she snapped. Blythe looked at her father, then briefly at Aidan. Color stained her face: shame, embarrassment; Tevis had been unmasked before the man most likely to gloat. She glanced back at Tevis. "Indeed, I will come. And we will talk, my lord of High Crags. About everything."
Cheysuli 7 - Flight of the Raven Page 16