Tyrant’s Blood

by Fiona McIntosh

  “Oh?”

  “I might take one extra day—even if I have to ride around aimlessly. I just need some time to think. I wanted to find Clovis and I know if I go back to the palace now, I’ll never get this chance again.”

  She nodded. “All right. We’ll leave early so we don’t have to face anyone.”

  He turned to face her and she saw that his distress had melted. Kirin took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m sorry. It’s not you, Lily. My life is a mess,” he admitted. “And now I’ve just complicated it further.”

  “We’ll sort it out, Kirin. This is all my fault. No, not mine, in fact, it’s Kilt’s. So when he starts throwing around accusations, I’ll remind him that following you was his idea. We’ll blame him for the fact that we now find ourselves married to each other.”

  He actually smiled and once again she privately acknowledged how handsome he was when he did so.

  “How are you feeling anyway?” she asked.

  “Exhausted,” he admitted. “But those seeds did a damn good job.”

  “We’ll find some more. Come on, eat something. We might as well devour all this food they’ve left for us.”

  He let her lead him to the bed.

  Twenty

  In broad daylight Sergius could make out the terrain, could even recognize some plants. He wasn’t sure why he’d begun picking the pink, mauve and violet seaside daisies today but he’d been collecting a few of the pretty pink flowers of love when he’d heard a familiar caw. Looking up, he recognized the shape of his favorite friend.

  Friends were few these days—just a couple of people from the closest village, who brought supplies to keep him going for moons on end. He wanted for little and grew a lot of what he needed anyway. But whenever he could make out Ravan, his heart lurched with joy. Ravan always brought real news from the outside, well beyond the boundaries of this cliff face or even the surrounding villages.

  “Ah, Ravan,” he murmured. “You seem to know when I most need your company.” He waved and before long the bird had landed effortlessly on the ground, leaping almost immediately to Sergius’s shoulder. “You’re such a show-off,” he accused, stroking the bird as he walked into his hut.

  Hello, Sergius. Got some food for me?

  “No, wretched bird. You’re the one with the sharp eyes. You’ll have to hunt, I’m afraid.”

  The hospitality’s not as good as it used to be, Ravan complained mildly.

  Sergius chuckled. “Arriving unannounced, you must have some news?” he inquired eagerly.

  I do. Troubling it is, too.

  “Oh? Come in, come in. Do you need some water?”

  I can’t stay.

  Sergius frowned. His friend sounded uncharacteristically nervous. “What bothers you, Ravan?”

  Piven.

  “Ah. Now fifteen anni. Is he giving Greven some grief? It’s to be expected in a lad of his age.”

  Ravan hopped onto the familiar table so his friend could sit down and look at him at close range. Grief? Yes, you could call it that.

  “Why didn’t you just talk to me via the seam?”

  I didn’t want to risk it. I think I shield my thoughts better when I am far away from him.

  “Loethar?” Sergius asked.

  No. Piven.

  “What do you mean?”

  Piven is changing. I’ve sensed that for a long time and I seem to be in tune with his moods. Lately he’s been plunging into a darkness I can’t really describe other than to say it feels like evil.

  Sergius frowned. “Evil? I don’t understand.”

  Neither do I, fully. But I feel it. And he and I have always been connected.

  “You’ve always felt connected to Loethar too.”

  I still do. I’m connected to both of them, but in different ways. With Loethar I feel it’s my duty is to be a friend to him. With Piven, it’s different. I am drawn to him. And then there is another.

  “Leonel is—”

  No, Sergius. While I was glad to help Leo and his injured friend to get assistance from Lily and Greven, I don’t feel connected to the Valisar king in the same way as I do to Piven, nor did I feel it for his father. Helping Leo in the forest seemed the right thing to do, yet I never understood why I helped Loethar’s enemy.

  “Tell me the news,” Sergius suggested. “You seem troubled.”

  I am. I felt Piven’s spirits plummet and I went in search of him. I found him easily enough, running toward a village that was suffering a fire in one of its store barns.

  Sergius looked puzzled. “Alone?”

  He’d left Greven behind on a small ridge, having just healed him of what I later learned was a sickness of the heart.

  Sergius shook his head in wonder. “He’s amazing. So what happened with the fire?”

  Piven gave back life.

  “What?” Sergius exclaimed, frowning deeply.

  We’ve known for a while now that he can restore health.

  “But you said he restored a life.”

  By the conversation I can only assume that two lives were lost to the fire, a man and a boy. Both came back from death.

  “You mean from the brink of death…that he healed them?”

  No, I mean he gave them life when they were newly dead.

  Sergius stood and paced, digesting this revelation. “You’re sure?”

  Only of what I heard. And what I then witnessed. And later what I experienced.

  Sergius’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowed. “Tell me everything!”

  He listened in awed silence as Ravan recalled what had happened in the forest, from the moment he alighted on the branch to the moment Piven attacked Greven.

  “An aegis?” Sergius said finally. “Truly?”

  Tell me about an aegis.

  Sergius rubbed his face in a gesture of excitement as much as fear. “An aegis, Ravan, is the ultimate champion. He…or she…can use magic to combat any aggression toward their bonded, and can shield the one to whom he is bonded from death or injury. But an aegis is also a slave—he has no will of his own. Once trammeled they have inordinate strength and can be commanded to use that strength against another.”

  And they have no choice in the matter, I’m guessing.

  Sergius shook his head. “None at all, which is why an aegis will hide his true nature with great care. I’ve not actually seen one in action. Cyrena granted Cormoron that for every Valisar heir born, so would be an aegis. Not necessarily at the same time either—some are older, some are younger. Finding your own aegis is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Even though they are always born in relatively close proximity to their Valisar, they hide their true nature with great effect. For the most part these people are born and die without being bonded, without ever having to tap into the power that is only fully available to them once they are joined through magic to a Valisar. The bonding process is called trammeling and it is repulsive.”

  Why are there so many hurdles to the process?

  Sergius shrugged. “Well, I suppose that even though Cyrena wanted to protect the Valisar line, she also knew the bonding is life-changing for an aegis. She put controls in place to ensure the Valisar would really need to trammel someone in order to do it. You’ve witnessed it; you understand why. Greven is now owned. He has no control over his own desires. He is compelled to protect Piven whether or not he wants to. What ever Piven suffers, so does Greven—but not vice versa. It’s a life of slavery but so much worse because the last frontier of privacy is invaded…one’s own will.”

  I watched Piven command Greven to kill a man called Clovis, who I recall from the palace. He did so without question, although I can assure you he suffered badly for it.

  Sergius looked shocked. “What do you mean? What did he say?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  Sergius frowned. “Then how do you know?”

  Ravan shifted, cleaning his beak on the table. I tasted his flesh, he finally said, reluctantly.

  “You a
te part of Greven?” Sergius groaned, disbelief mingling with revulsion.

  I felt compelled to.

  “By what?” Sergius demanded, still repulsed. Standing, he angrily began preparing a herbal tea.

  By Piven, Ravan said calmly.

  Sergius swung around and regarded the raven. “He controls you, too?”

  No, Sergius, I promise you. Our bond is not like the bond between him and Greven. But it is a strong connection all the same. Forgive me for tasting Greven.

  Sergius softened. “And you think they killed Clovis because they didn’t want him telling anyone that Piven was alive?”

  It was more than that. I told you, Piven is changing.

  “You’ve lost me,” Sergius admitted, frowning as he poured the boiled water into a large mug. Immediately a fragrance of herbs filled the room.

  There are two things I have to tell you. The first is that since tasting Greven, I can now talk to both him and Piven.

  “Like the seam that we use?”

  Yes.

  A thrill of shock passed through Sergius. “What did they say?”

  I think they were more surprised to hear my voice in their minds than the other way around. I didn’t linger because Clovis had arrived.

  “So you didn’t see them kill him?”

  No, but I heard it all unfold.

  “Can you hear them now?”

  If I wanted to, I suppose. But only if Piven wants me to, also.

  “Why do you think Piven encouraged you to share Greven with him?”

  Ah, that’s something I don’t fully understand. It probably has to do with the second detail I want to tell you about.

  “Go on.”

  Piven is turning bad.

  “Explain bad.”

  I saw darkness within him. Piven is far cleverer than any of us have ever imagined and he has probably long suspected that a magical bird doesn’t just come along for no reason. He must assume that I am around him for a reason and that I don’t communicate only with him.

  “He knows about me?” Sergius asked, aghast.

  No. He presumes by my comings and goings that I go back to Loethar. He is not interested in that, I don’t think. But I think he needed a witness to the trammeling. He needs a witness to this change. I know from my glimpse into him that he fights this darkness with all his being.

  “Ravan, assure me he can’t eavesdrop on this conversation.”

  I would know if he were listening. He is not. He cannot, because I can shield myself. He doesn’t take care to shield his thoughts from me. That’s my very point; he wants me to know what he is thinking.

  “This darkness you speak of. What is it? What do you see?”

  Evil. As he explained to Greven, for every good deed he does, or tries to do, for all the goodness in his soul, there is a debt of darkness. And as he uses his power to give aid, the healing power that leaves him is exchanged by the gloom of evil.

  Sergius frowned and sank his chin onto his cupped hands. “As goodness moves out, darkness moves in?”

  That’s it. That’s almost exactly what he was trying to say.

  “When did this begin?”

  I told you, he experienced that sort of awakening when Brennus died. I know that from the day Greven found him Piven could actually make out my call. He turned toward me that day in the woods. I know he recognized me, walked toward me. And everything about him started improving from then. He started healing birds and animals a few years after he left the palace, and even though he’s only been using his power in small ways, every time his efforts to give or improve life have been repaid with the shadows that have lengthened over him. When he’s in a bad mood, milk sours, herbs die…even water tastes bitter.

  “Do you know where his power came from?”

  I just assumed it was wild—like the Vested.

  Sergius said nothing, sipping his tea quietly, but he watched Ravan closely as the bird continued to move through his thoughts.

  But an aegis doesn’t make sense for Piven, the raven finally said, sounding exasperated.

  Sergius nodded. “As you know, there is an aegis born for each Valisar, and now Piven is—”

  Wait! Wait! Ravan said, swooping now around the table.

  Sergius pursed his lips. “That took longer than I thought it would.”

  No! That can’t be! Ravan paused, then he hopped to stare at Sergius. Why didn’t you tell me?

  Sergius sighed. “Because, while I suspected it, I didn’t know for sure until you mentioned trammeling Greven.”

  How did they hide it?

  “The Valisars are all about secrets and there was no better practitioner of secrets than King Brennus. He had no magical endowment to speak of that I knew of, but he more than made up for it with his shadowy plans and plottings…this is another of his masterstrokes.”

  Piven is Valisar!

  “Indeed, or Greven would simply be a very angry man without a hand.”

  He’s a true heir?

  “Yes, I’m astonished to say he is. I imagine Brennus would have been distraught, after all the trouble he must have gone to to keep Piven’s birth a secret, for his son to be so disabled.”

  Why do that in the first place?

  Sergius shook his head. “For all his lacking in magic, Brennus was more Valisar than any other I’ve known since Cormoron. He took his duty as sovereign deeply seriously—perhaps it’s his lack of magic that drove him to make up for it in other ways. He must have forced Iselda to give birth to Piven in secret as a form of protection. Now I think of it, they said Iselda lost a baby son and very soon after, as a means of helping her to get over yet another death, she adopted the newborn Piven.”

  How devious.

  “It is, but history has proven his actions to be well advised. In keeping Piven’s true identity a secret, no one but us—outside of the boy himself and Greven—know who he is. Loethar wanted to kill all the Valisars. We know he would have, given the chance. He spared Piven only because he was adopted, and his simpleton status no doubt helped. Does the boy look like a Valisar?”

  Ravan pondered this. He’s dark and doesn’t look much like Leo. I don’t think he resembles Brennus, though. If anything, he could be Loethar’s son.

  Sergius waved a hand. “I just wondered why no one had picked a resemblance previously but then again when you’re not looking for the resemblance you can be fooled. Either that or Piven takes after ancestors no one has seen. Cormoron possessed dark, brooding features.”

  So no one but Brennus and the queen knew.

  “Well, that can’t be right. They would have needed at least one other ally. A wet nurse, presumably, someone to take care of the baby until they contrived to stumble upon him and bring him back to the palace.”

  What about Freath?

  “He gave no sign of knowing, did he?”

  Not that I could ever tell.

  “Knowing Brennus, I imagine he would have shared this secret with only the people who needed to know. Perhaps Freath was only privy to the journey the heavily pregnant Iselda took but not its outcome.”

  Freath’s been away with the one called Kirin. They went north. I followed them for a while.

  “Ah yes, Kirin. You’ve never felt his magic again?”

  I haven’t but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t used it.

  “True. His is a skill they would need to keep incredibly secret.”

  It sounds like the Valisar Enchantment you’ve spoken of.

  “No. From what you’ve told me, Kirin has the ability to plant a thought in someone’s mind and make that person believe it. Correct?”

  That’s my understanding.

  Sergius shook his head. “The Valisar Enchantment has the ability to coerce not just one but many. If it exists, it will make Kirin’s magic look like a parlor trick.

  “And furthermore, the Valisar Enchantment is only granted to females and it kills them with remorseless frequency—that’s the price they pay for possessing it.” Sergius frowned in
concentration. “Cyrena once mentioned to Cormoron that the Valisar magic, should it manifest itself in a woman, would be more potent than anything ever known to the male line. She said the female would have absolute control over the land. I can recall her laughing at his sourness; she reminded him that he worshipped a goddess, but Cormoron demanded that the power be made somehow impotent. He refused the idea of a queen as a ruler in her own right. Cyrena agreed that the Valisar dynasty would be better served by kings, and she agreed to limit the female power in the most devastating way.”

  By killing the female line, Ravan finished.

  “Exactly. Mightily powered, but seemingly unable to survive it.”

  Too much magic for me to understand, Ravan said sourly. So no daughter of the Valisar line has ever survived. What a pity.

  Sergius knew it was high time he shared his great secret, but still he kept it.

  Twenty-One

  The two figures approached the convent on foot, leading their horses.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” the woman asked. “Because there will be no going back, you realize that, don’t you?”

  Her companion nodded. “I love my life but no man should live without knowing his past.” He dug in his pocket. “This is all I have that links me to who I was before.” She stared at the shiny seeds in his kerchief, still none the wiser for their purpose. They’d even planted one to see what occurred, and though a plant had emerged briefly, it hadn’t flourished in the mountains. He put the seeds back in his pocket. “I know you understand.”

  She nodded sadly. “Go on, then. Bang on the door. I’ll wait here with the horses.”

  The man squeezed her hand before giving her his reins. He left the tall woman with the animals and walked in his signature, slightly lopsided but nonetheless long gait to the enormous oak door of the magnificent stone building that nestled among Lo’s Teeth. He raised the iron knocker, resisted the urge to look behind him at the woman who had not only saved his life, but given him a new one for the past ten anni, and banged it twice.

  The man who called himself Regor knew that once this door opened, he could potentially re-open his old life. Elka had done all she could to dissuade him from trying to trace the past. “You have a good life here among my people,” she had warned. “What you may go back to might be terrible.”