The Dead God's Due (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 1)

by Matt Gilbert

  “I do indeed,” Aiul answered. “I think a top level suite in the Cradle of Nihlos would be appropriate.”

  “Oh, my, yes,” Ariano agreed. “But you will need more than money for that. You will need influence as well. It’s quite a difficult thing to arrange for most.”

  Aiul nodded, beaming. “So it is. Fortunately, I know some very influential people who--” He turned toward his mother to continue and fell speechless. The look in her eyes made him feel as if he had been doused with icy water after a long marathon. Maranath, seeing the same thing, stepped aside and leaned against the wall, a dubious expression on his face.

  Narelki’s face had grown rigid with disapproval, making her seem even more a statue. After a moment of consternation, Aiul recovered himself and met her stare with his own, wondering if perhaps she thought of him as he did her: carved of stone, hard of heart. Both of them bore more than passing resemblance to their revered ancestor. Only the eyes would be different. She would see emeralds.

  Narelki at last broke the silence. “This is a mistake, Aiul.”

  “We have been through this.”

  “We certainly have, and don’t think for a moment that I don’t recognize an ambush when I see one. If you imagined I would hide my disapproval of this union because of our guests, you are sadly mistaken. I will not bless foolhardiness.”

  Aiul sighed. “Mother, I have made my decision.”

  Narelki’s face now showed more anger, her nostrils flaring. “It is a foolish decision! You are a nobleman of Nihlos. You should marry a noblewoman.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk!” Aiul snapped, a bit more sharply than he had intended, but it was a ridiculous situation. His own father had been a commoner. “Such hypocrisy!”

  “It is hardly hypocrisy to recognize the mistakes of one’s youth. It is wisdom.”

  Aiul spread his arms wide and looked to the two elders in frustration. “What would you have me do, mother? I love Lara! She carries my child!”

  “And what of it? You needn’t acknowledge the child.” She folded her arms across her chest. “A commoner is fine for a mistress, but a marriage is quite another matter,” she declared. “They don’t understand our ways, Aiul. It will go badly for you in the end, and then you will have to do very difficult things, things that will haunt you forever.”

  “Because it went badly for you? Because you are haunted?”

  Narelki’s eyes flashed in true anger now. “You go too far!”

  Aiul stood fuming in silence for a moment, then nodded and lowered his gaze to the floor. “You speak truth.”

  At this, Narelki softened a bit as well. “Oh, Aiul, I know the madness you feel. I know it well!” She walked over to her son, her head barely reaching his chin, and hugged him. “But marriage is about more than that. It is image and politics and business, too. Surely those three things outweigh the one?”

  Aiul shook his head in denial and stepped apart from Narelki. “The Great Father spoke often of balance in all things. If there were a noblewoman who suited me, I would consider it, but there are none I would have as wife.”

  “None? Kariana is a beautiful women! She has made no secret of her interest in you, and she is Empress!” Ariano’s eyes grew wide at this suggestion, and Maranath was seized by a coughing fit that didn’t entirely hide some choice expletives.

  Aiul shook his head sadly. “Such a stupid and arrogant thing, that title. I’ll always think of her as Kariana. I fail to see how my becoming one of her many toys will raise my status or that of House Amrath. Her perverse appetites are well known.”

  “You had no such problem with that before. You used to quite fancy her.”

  “Mother, you are no shrinking violet! There is a strong difference between what a man chooses for dalliance and what he chooses for wife and mother of his children!”

  Narelki shook her head, unmoved. “You were very close to her since you were children yourselves. You’re making excuses.”

  Aiul sighed, not really wanting to go here, but Narelki had him cornered. “She changed, mother. She was always undignified and impulsive. Those were some of the things I liked about her.” He struggled against the urge to smile as one after another outrageous memory bubbled up in his mind. That would not help his argument at all. “Since she took that crown, she’s become cruel and very publicly promiscuous. She would shame me, Mother, and shame House Amrath.”

  It was Narelki’s turn to admit defeat. “You speak truth. The politics do not outweigh the cost in dignity. But surely we could find someone--!”

  Aiul shook his head and slammed a fist into his open hand. “I’ve made my decision, Mother!”

  Narelki stared at him in silence a moment, then gave him a curt nod. “And I have made mine. As Matriarch of House Amrath, I forbid the union, as is my right.”

  Maranath cleared his throat as his fingers tightened on the handle of his cane. “This is unseemly.” He stepped forward and gently guided Aiul aside, then faced Narelki with a scowl. “Aiul is no lovesick boy in the grip of youthful madness. He’s is a man in the full of his career, a respected physician, and the heir to House Amrath.” He tapped the cane against the ground to underscore his point. “If it is his image you are concerned with, how do you think it will seem to others that he is treated as a child?”

  “Is it not also unseemly to question the judgment of a House Leader under their own roof?” Narelki snapped.

  “Aye, it is,” Maranath shot back. “But we Aswan are troublemakers, eh?”

  “I think we can blame your troublemaking on another name besides that of Aswan.”

  Maranath’s face grew dark and his gaze cold. “Be careful with your words, Narelki.”

  “And you with yours.” Her stare was just as icy as his.

  He held her gaze a moment longer, grinding his teeth, then turned and strode back to the couch. He plopped down in a huff, arms folded across his chest, glowering at the fire. Aiul almost laughed to see the old man so angry that he seemed to have forgotten, for the moment, the pain in his joints.

  “Don’t be upset,” Ariano begged. “We are all practically family here.” She smiled sweetly at Narelki. “Do you remember playing those wonderful games right here in this room with your father and me? And with Aiul, too!”

  Narelki was in no mood to be soothed by reminiscing. “I remember missing my mother, and being angry at you for taking her place, if you want to know the truth.”

  Ariano sat back, mouth open in shock, and gave a slight moan of dismay. At just that moment, a great cracking shot echoed from the fireplace as a knot of timber exploded, sending a stream of sparks and several large embers to land on the carpet.

  Narelki jumped in shock, eyes wide and face even more pale.

  “Fetch water, Aiul!” Ariano cried. “Oh, hurry, dear, hurry!”

  With a nod, Aiul quickly stepped into the foyer. He barely registered the doors closing behind him. Water! He needed it, and it occurred to him that he had never seen it fetched. That was slave work. But where did the slaves keep water? The kitchen, surely? Near panic, he tore down the hallway, his boots pounding on the polished hardwood, and banged a knee on a table, upsetting a vase perched upon it. The vase fell to the floor with a crash, sending shards of pottery and water all over the floor, followed by the table. Aiul grabbed at a tapestry, tearing it loose from the wall to keep his own balance.

  “Mei! Fool! It was right there before you!” he cursed.

  The shattering vase had, fortunately, drawn the attention of the slaves. Unfortunately, that attention was from Slat, the Chief Slave, whose duties included administering whippings to the children of the household, noble and slave alike. Aiul himself had been quite unruly as a boy, and had become something of a connoisseur of beatings by the time he reached manhood. Grandfather Lothrian had handled discipline before his passing, and Aiul considered his technique quite good, but once Narelki had placed Slat in charge, Aiul had begun to understand the true nature of superior quality and crafts
manship.

  Slat came stalking down the hall on spindly legs, his black tunic fluttering, a scowl on his long, hairless face. His once black hair was still shoulder length, but gray now, and receding in a widow’s peak. “Master Aiul, what have you done?” he called out, his deep, accusing voice sending fingers of terror up Aiul’s spine, even now these long years past. “That vase was priceless!”

  Part of Aiul felt compelled to shout out his innocence and flee, but it was foolish. Slat always caught runners. The truth would be best. “There’s a fire in the library! I need water! Now!”

  Slat’s eyebrows rose in appreciation, and he nodded and spun on his heel. “Come with me,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried back the way he had come.

  Slat led him at a jog into the areas of the manse normally reserved for slaves. Even here, the place was richly appointed, though not so well as the rest of the house. It was a simple truth that form followed function, and slave areas were necessarily functional. After a few twists and turns, they came to a cistern room. Slat heaved the cistern cover aside and snatched a bucket from the floor. Aiul did likewise, provoking a harsh glare of disapproval from the Chief Slave. “Have I taught you nothing? It is inappropriate.”

  “Shall we let Amrath’s Library burn over such foolishness? Come!”

  Slat answered with a resigned nod. Together, they rushed back to the library, water sloshing from their pails, Slat muttering about the mess they were making. Aiul tried the door, and cursed to find it locked. “Open the door!” he shouted. “We have water!”

  “All is well,” Maranath called out. Someone turned the handle from the other side, and the doors opened to reveal Ariano, Maranath, and Narelki all gathered around the fireplace. Aiul did a double take and looked behind the door in shock, but there was no one there.

  “What…” he began, but the words died in his throat. He had imagined it, of course. Too much stress was causing his mind to play tricks on him. The door must never have been locked at all. Yes, it’s safer to believe that, because the only other rational explanation is unthinkable.

  “Maranath stomped the coals out like roaches,” Ariano said, beaming once again.

  “I’ll have it cleaned at once, Mistress,” Slat promised, but Narelki held up a hand.

  “Later. I must speak with my son now. You are dismissed.”

  Slat nodded and left the room, closing the doors behind him. Aiul stared at the handle briefly, then pushed his thoughts aside. It was just a moment of confusion, he assured himself.

  Narelki rose and cleared her throat. “Well, that was exciting.” She looked at the statue of Amrath and smiled. “Perhaps it was Great Father’s way of forcing a break and letting us cool our heads, hmm?”

  “I suppose,” Aiul said with a nod. “But cooler head or no, I am still resolved on my choice of wife.”

  Narelki nodded and pursed her lips. “I suspected such. But I have reconsidered. I will not forbid you, and I will not make my disapproval known.” She held up a finger of caution. “But, I will not assist you in this madness, either. If you will go against my counsel, then you will do it on your own. You have money and property a plenty. You can afford a splendid home. But I will not speak for you on the Cradle. That is asking too much of me.”

  Aiul clenched his teeth, biting back his anger, and nodded. It was better than the alternative, to be certain. “Very well, Mother.”

  “Oh, my,” Ariano said. “This was too much excitement for one my age! I am suddenly very tired.”

  “Of course you are,” Narelki said, her tone sullen and almost insulting, but Ariano seemed not to notice.

  “Aiul, would you be so kind as to walk me home?” Ariano asked. “Maranath lives in the opposite direction, and his legs pain him so. I couldn’t ask him to walk so far just for my sake.”

  Maranath chuckled. “Aye. I’ll be lucky to make my own trip without falling.”

  Aiul smiled at Maranath's wordplay a moment, then turned to Narelki. “Mother, would you have any other words with me before I go?”

  Narelki shook her head, seeming very tired herself. “We’ve had enough words today, I think.”

  “Then I bid you good night, and you as well, Maranath. Thank you for coming, and forgive us for airing our private matters in front of you.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Maranath said with a smile. “I have seen far worse. Life is full of such things. You learn to embrace even the rough spots as time passes.”

  Aiul offered his arm to Ariano. She reached for him gingerly and slowly pulled herself to her feet. “Oh, it’s been quite some time since I walked arm in arm with such a handsome young man!”

  It was a fairly short walk to Ariano’s home, and Aiul’s escorting her was merely courtesy; there were no thugs or robbers in the hills of Nihlos where House Elders held their estates, though there were plenty amongst the commoners. Aiul shuddered at the thought. Better to be a slave. He immediately thought of Lara and felt ashamed.

  Ariano seemed to sense his discomfort and patted his arm as they walked. “It was kind of you to accompany me. And it was good to see you again. We were so close when you were young, but since Lothrian died….” She trailed off and looked at the ground.

  Aiul felt uncomfortable discussing his grandfather. The man was a wicked criminal, a shame on House Amrath, but Ariano clearly still loved him. Aiul would not disrespect that. “Grandfather loved you very much,” he said with a sad smile.

  Ariano looked up at him again, her green eyes full of unidentifiable emotion. “Even after all these years, I still dream of him, of our time together.” She sighed wistfully. “He was a great man, Aiul. I know you think otherwise, but you’re wrong. And he loved you dearly, too.”

  Aiul nodded, and resolved to change the subject before he said something hurtful. “And I remember those games we played in the parlor, even if Mother doesn’t.” He grinned, thinking back. “What did you call that one, where you would say something silly, and I was supposed to argue why you were wrong?”

  “’Iconoclast.’ Too big of a word for one so young to remember, I think. It’s an old game. Some say Amrath invented it.”

  Aiul chuckled. “It would certainly fit him, wouldn’t it?”

  They walked on in silence for a while, Aiul still brooding on his mother’s cruelty. Below them, in the bowl of the hills that surrounded the city, lay the heart of Nihlos, a brilliant, shining jewel sparkling beneath orange clouds. Not for the first time, Aiul considered how isolated the Houses had become, sitting in their manses here upon the hill, apart from Nihlos proper.

  Shimmering spires rose from the bottom of the valley, reaching for the sky with all the arrogance and power of the Founders, twinkling with a million points of light. Arches and spans ran between them like spider webs, stark and limned against the luminous sky. The river Sanguinus, which surfaced only briefly near the center of the city, seemed more like a lake from afar, though it’s flow was the life’s blood of the city. It was hard to look upon Nihlos proper and not be moved, if not for the mighty works of the ancients, then for the tragic loss of such skill and artistry over the years. We are but frail shadows of what they were.

  When they arrived at Ariano’s home, she took her arm back with a slight bow. The place was even larger and more ornate than House Amrath’s ancestral estate, a work of art, like everything House Talus touched. Topiary beasts frolicked on the huge lawn, so true to form one could almost expect them to move. In their center was an enormous gazebo where the musicians of the house performed shows. Flameless lights, carefully arranged to cast accenting shadows, lit the landscaping. The house itself was made of white marble, fully four stories tall, each level slightly smaller than the previous. From the roof rose a great tower that was House Talus’s own wonder, the highest point in Nihlos, offering spectacular views of the city.

  When they arrived, she released Aiul’s arm and bowed slightly. “You have grown to be quite the handsome and courteous gentleman, Aiul.” Her face took on a w
istful look. “Sometimes I miss the unruly boy you were.”

  Aiul smiled sheepishly, chuckling. “My mother would argue he is still here.”

  “I suspect she would!” Ariano giggled. After a moment of sharing his humor, Ariano grew serious. “You mustn’t hate your mother for her decision tonight, Aiul. She’s had a very hard life.”

  “I know. But why must she make mine so difficult? It is as Maranath said. I am no young fool, I am a respectable man. She should support my decisions. I will be in her place someday.”

  “Sometimes, a mother must do what she thinks best for her child. She is wrong, but her heart is in the right place.”

  Aiul snorted. “She has no heart.”

  “It was torn from her, Aiul. She has lost more than you know, more than you can imagine. Find it in your heart to forgive her and speak of it no more. I can just as easily give you what you asked of her. It will be our secret.”

  “The Cradle?” Aiul gasped, incredulous. “Truly?”

  Ariano nodded. “House Talus will be honored to speak for you.”

  Aiul shook his head in wonder. “What have I done to deserve such honor from you? You treat me better than my own mother. You always have.”

  “You are wrong, Aiul. Your mother has always taken care of you. But there are things you don’t understand. Someday, perhaps you will.”

  Aiul shook his head and sighed. “Is it part of the process, I wonder, of becoming a House Elder, that one masters the art of speaking in riddles?”

  Ariano patted him on the cheek. “There is a test you have to pass on just that very subject. I’ll see to the recommendation first thing in the morning. But now, I need my rest. And as for you, I think you have other things to do, things that involve a considerably younger woman, eh?” She gave him a slight wink.

  Aiul blushed and nodded. “Good night, Ariano. And thank you again.”

  Does he love me? Lara suppressed a frown as she studied Aiul’s face, searching, probing. There must be a way to see. The intention of forever ought to be clear in his eyes, if only she knew how and what to look for. The lust there was plain, and that pleased her well enough. Green, like his eyes. She ran a hand across his clean shaven, square jaw, now grown a bit prickly in the evening, and sighed with pleasure. But does he love me?