Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel

by D. Hart St. Martin

  Alabar turned to him, his blue eyes sparkling beneath his deep brown bangs. He certainly stood out in a golden-haired family. “Father, tell her to stop.”

  “It’s her week in charge, Al. You can make her life difficult next week.”

  “Thank you so much, Father,” Linell said with a sneer.

  Nalin turned at the sound of footsteps and smiled at Bala entering the kitchen.

  “Trouble?” she asked as she approached him, her pouch obvious but not yet fully bulging. In another month perhaps.

  “No. The usual,” he replied.

  “Thank you for the quiet time.” She kissed the side of his head, then slid around behind him to study what was now nearly a meal. “Smells good. I think I may actually be hungry tonight.”

  “It’s bean and vegetable soup,” Alabar volunteered with a broad smile. “We put potatoes in to make it thick.”

  “Is the table ready?” Bala asked.

  “Yes,” Nalin said. “They put everything out while the soup was cooking.”

  “And you’ve been sitting here, supervising?”

  “Actually, I’ve been sitting here doing almost nothing. But I had nowhere else to be at the moment.”

  “My lords?”

  Nalin turned to the kitchen door where Bala’s head servant, Tak, had silently appeared. He breathed a little too heavily.

  “What is it?” Bala asked.

  “A message, from the Empir.” He stepped into the kitchen and handed it to Nalin. “The guard who brought it said it was urgent.”

  Nalin broke the seal and nearly ripped the paper as he rushed to open it. He read, anger twisting his gut. Finally he looked up.

  “I have to go to Thristas.”

  “Nal? But she promised.”

  “Father?” Linell added to her mother’s entreaty.

  “The Thristan Elders insist,” he explained, jaw clenched. This wasn’t his family’s problem, but they would bear the burden of his absence.

  “When?” Bala asked.

  “Immediately.”

  “Well, it’s too late for you to set out tonight.”

  “Yes. Of course. I don’t believe she was planning on leaving before the second or third, so there’s plenty of time if I leave tomorrow.” He set the letter down and rose from his stool. “Is it ready? Shall we eat?” Anything to quiet the threatening rage.

  The silence in the room defied any attempt to lift it, but Linell and Alabar grabbed the tureen of soup and the basket of bread and headed into the family dining hall. Bala looked at Nalin with eyes that could drive a soul to guilt-ridden madness.

  “I’m sorry,” Nalin said. “This is the treaty on the line. I can’t…”

  “You can’t not go.” She sighed. “I know.”

  He took the two steps to where she stood, placed his hand upon the fur over her pouch and kissed her neck. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Now, let’s get in there before they come back and find us like this.”

  He pulled away, and with his cane as support, he made for the dinner table where their children had already sat and begun eating. Bala followed behind him and took her seat as he took his. His stomach turned at the smell of food, but he helped himself to a decent amount of soup and a slice of bread, determined to eat it all.

  Despite the peace he and Bala had reached over this sudden shift in their plans for the next two-or-so months, dinner was a somber, silent affair. Even the children could offer nothing light for discussion. The damn Thristans and their demands had intruded on his privacy, and he would see that Lisen knew precisely how he felt.

  The next morning, Bala accompanied her spouse into the receiving yard. She’d watched him pack last night and had no idea if what he’d packed was appropriate. What do you wear into the desert?

  He stopped as he reached his horse and turned. Bala loved the way the short braid down his back followed his head around.

  “Don’t you dare let anything happen to you.”

  “Never,” he said. He handed her his cane. Then balancing on his false leg, he put his left foot in the stirrup and mounted up. He unbuckled the wooden right leg, slipped it into its loop on that side and placed his stump into the saddle’s boot. Bala handed up his cane which he settled tightly into its loop on the left. He was about to set out, his ever-present guard at his side, when Bala grabbed his hand and kissed it.

  “And tell Lisen she owes me for this.”

  “I suspect she already knows.” Nalin leaned over, brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it; then he allowed his horse to move into a slow walk. She held his hand until she could no longer keep up, their hands uncoupling as Nalin moved farther away.

  Bala stood watching her beloved’s departing back until it disappeared down the dip just before the fork in the road. And once he was gone, she retreated to the protection of her castle where she would wait until she saw his horse returning over the rise.

  Lisen heard the three-pronged step of Nalin’s distinctive gait before he entered her office. She picked up the document she’d saved for this moment and stood up from her desk as the door from the hallway opened and he entered, looking slightly frazzled and exhausted from the road.

  “Nalin,” she said as the two of them approached the conference table from opposite directions. “I am truly sorry about this, but Korin’s letter was clear. The Elders insist that you be there.” She handed him the letter as he sat down, and she took her place beside him.

  “So you said.” He read the letter without a word, then handed it back to her. The silence expanded until it threatened to crush her.

  “Be angry, Nal. I would be.” Still nothing. Until…

  He slammed a fist down on the table. “You and your damn Thristans. You’ve been tip-toeing around them since before you became Empir. They were powerless, and now they hold all the power.” He stood up and began to pace, as best he could with a cane and a wooden foot, gesturing with his cane every time he turned. “They kidnapped you, maimed me, and yet you joined with one of them and offered them your first child. Your child. Now they’ve set their sights on me as well. And still you refuse to stand up to them. What in the name of the Destroyer is with you and their ilk?”

  Lisen listened quietly, accepting his blows for what she believed them to be—the pent-up frustrations of a man who had kept his truth tied up inside himself. He was her Will, and she’d always trusted him to speak his mind. But this was personal, not policy, and it was time he released it before it ate him up.

  He sat down again and looked at her, his blue eyes sharply focused. “Why?”

  Now it was her turn. “The war. Their obvious second-class status. The fact their culture sings, and we can’t hear the music because we’re too busy criticizing how off tune their song sounds to our Garlan ears.”

  Nalin blew a huge breath out, looked up at the ceiling and then back to her. He’d surrendered. “I am furious with you, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve given into far more of their demands than they’ve given into yours.”

  “We have to let them go. They’re not children anymore. They never were children, though we’ve treated them as though they were.”

  “You are the champion of the people no one else can see.”

  “It’s not a bad legacy.” She shrugged. “I could be ‘the Empir who lasted only a couple of months because everyone knew what a tyrant he would be.’”

  Nalin sighed. “So, when do we leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow. I’ve still got a couple of things to clear up before I go. They’re prepping the wagon. I hope you don’t mind. The coach would be more comfortable, but we can make better time with the lighter vehicle.”

  Nalin nodded. “Probably best. Besides, I’ll ride as long as I can every day. I mean, I can make it between here and Seffa; I should be able to ride for at least two days straight.”

  “Have you ever been to Thristas?” She shook her hand at him. “No, of course you haven’t.” She found it difficul
t to remain focused on him. “It’s a long ride. And we won’t be able to take the wagon through the Pass. It’s too narrow.”

  “I assumed that was the case.”

  She turned in her chair and looked at him. “It’s…” She looked around, searching for the elusive but returned to him without ever touching it. “It’s this harsh but amazing place. It can inflame the soul. It overwhelmed me the first time I went through the Pass.” She breathed heavily and didn’t understand why. It was like mating somehow, this conjuring up of desert thoughts. “Sometimes,” she said in almost a whisper, leaning in towards him, “it feels like going home.”

  Nalin nodded and replied softly, “I imagine it does.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE BURDEN SETTLES

  The nearly two-week ride from Avaret to the Pass had been difficult but tolerable for Nalin, but this push through the Pass into Thristas had proven downright brutal. A full day in the saddle over a treacherous path, and he was ready to relinquish everything he possessed—lands and his minimal wealth—in exchange for an immediate return to Avaret. Lisen rode ahead of him, and he could feel her ecstasy burning from every pore of her body. They grew close, and her soul had, indeed, caught flame, just as she’d said.

  She pulled to a halt and turned back to Nalin, Insenlo and the two guards behind her.

  “This is…”—she took a deep breath—“…the magical turn.” Her eyes glowed in the early evening light. “Do you feel it?” She smiled wildly at Nalin. “Can you feel it? The change in the air?”

  “It feels hot, and it feels dry,” he replied, wishing he shared even a fraction of her passion.

  “Wait till you see.” She smiled again, turned forward and urged her horse onward.

  Despite his doubts and misgivings, he watched in awe as she manipulated the moment into the magic she’d predicted. Her horse moved beyond the turn, out of sight until Nalin’s horse brought him around. She’d paused again, but had allowed room for the entire party to pull in behind her on this side of the bend. Once his horse had halted, he looked out on an endless expanse of dirt and rock.

  “Look how the shadows stretch out beyond the mesas in the setting sun. It seems to go on forever, doesn’t it? If you squint, you can just make out the mountains at the basin’s eastern-most edge. And the aroma.”

  “Oh, Mother, it’s…beautiful,” Insenlo breathed.

  “I don’t smell anything,” Nalin commented, unable to join in the familial infatuation.

  “That’s because it’s pure,” Lisen replied. “No trees or flowers filling the air with their scent to distract your nose.”

  He wished he could see it through her eyes, sense it through her skin, her nose, her ears. Her voice invited him to join her in joy, but it had been a long ride with at least one more full day’s push. Or one more full night’s, he thought. Korin and Rinli have been doing this twice a year for…what?...fifteen years? He was surprised Korin didn’t just collapse and sleep for weeks after his return. Maybe if I were younger.

  “What are you thinking?” Lisen asked as she gestured everyone to head out behind her down the mountain.

  “That it is, indeed, an amazing place, and I am humbled by your spouse’s energy.”

  “I think it’s his love of Rinli that drives him,” she said and then focused on the narrow path winding down in front of them. Nalin’s stump already throbbed, and he dreaded what it would feel like at the end of the descent.

  “How did you get away so early?”Rinli asked Madlen as the young woman joined Rinli at their favorite spot on top of the mesa. “I mean, I’m excused from everything, what with my investiture in three days, but you…”

  “I just left.” And Madlen plopped down next to her friend.

  Madlen spoke so simply, so boldly, Rinli couldn’t help but spurt out a laugh. “You’re going to catch trouble,” she said, reclaiming what she could of her most solemn demeanor.

  “Not when I tell them I was there to greet your mother. You are sure she’s coming this morning, right?”

  “Unless there was some kind of trouble. And since Mother never allows trouble to get in her way, yes, I’m sure she’s coming this morning.”

  “We should go watch out for her.”

  “Not yet. I can sense her approaching, but she’s still a ways out.”

  Madlen’s eyes widened. “You can sense her?”

  Damn, I have to mind my mouth. “It’s just a feeling,” Rinli said with a shrug. “Nothing really.”

  “I had another encounter with Tinlo last night,” Madlen volunteered, scuffing her sandal’s toe in the sand.

  “What was it this time?”

  “He wanted to know if I really believed you’d still be my friend when you were Protector.”

  “And?” Rinli asked as she tossed a pebble across the mesa.

  “I told him I believed you would.”

  “And then he said you shouldn’t trust me.”

  “Predictable, huh?”

  “He asks too many questions. I don’t trust him.” Tinlo made Rinli uneasy. They’d all been friends as children, but now he constantly trapped Madlen in discussions about topics she didn’t want to discuss, all of them revolving around Rinli herself. Her father and mother had taught her the importance of her never fully trusting anyone. “Trust your feelings” she remembered her mother telling her. “No other ally will be as loyal.” And her feelings about Tinlo registered all wrong. She patted Madlen on the knee. “But I trust no one more than you.” And despite all her parents’ cautions, that was true.

  Madlen turned to look at her, and in the pre-dawn hint of light, Rinli saw tears in her friend’s dark eyes. No one cried in Thristas; it wasted precious fluid. Rinli reached up, and with a gentleness gleaned from quiet moments in the Keep in Avaret, she wiped the sweet gift from Madlen’s eyes, one and then the other.

  “It’s all right,” Rinli said. “You’re mine. I’m yours.” Madlen smiled at the words they often shared, their present significance perhaps stronger than ever. “Now,” Rinli added, jumping to her feet, “let’s go look for signs of horses on the sand.” She pulled Madlen up, and they ran to the rock every child in Terses knew well—the watching rock. From here they could see clearly west to the horizon and almost as far to the north.

  “Anything?” Madlen whispered as they scooted around to get the best view.

  “Nothing. No. Wait. There. Look.” Rinli pointed only slightly north of the mesa. “Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes out.” She jumped up, and Madlen at her heels, she headed for the trapdoor that allowed entrance into the top tunnel in the mesa. They scrambled down the ladder and tore down the tunnel together. Rinli’s braid swished from side to side on her back as she ran, her unbounded joy at her mother’s arrival taking her by surprise.

  They managed not to trip over themselves or each other on their near-tumble down the tunnels, and they arrived at her father’s chamber breathless and animated.

  “Fa! She’s here. She’s nearly here.”

  Her father, dressed in his good robe, rose from the floor in one fluid movement and spoke as he approached her. “She’s going to be glad to see you so happy.” He brushed her cheek with his rough hands, and his touch warmed her as usual.

  “Let’s go. Let’s go.” She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him.

  “You and Madlen go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Rinli turned back to Madlen, shifting her grasp from her father to her friend, and the two set off down the last bit of tunnel to the bottom of the mesa. They blew out onto the desert and halted, blinking their eyes in the sudden intrusion of light after the darkness of the lower tunnels.

  “It looks like daylight,” Madlen whispered.

  “Nope, still night with a hint,” Rinli said, squinting towards the northwest. Only a mile or so away, it seemed, five horses with five riders. Her mother, Insenlo, two guards and, yes, the Empir’s Will as ordered. The Elders’ decision to demand the presence of her Uncle Nalin had angered
her. When I’m Protector, she’d thought then and still did now, I won’t let them make such demands.

  “There they are,” Madlen said. “Is that your sister? I don’t think I’ve seen her since she was tiny.”

  Rinli shook her head. “She’s not tiny anymore. I think you’ll like her.”

  “Who else? Your mother and three guards?”

  “No. Two guards and Holder Corday, my mother’s Will.” Out of the corner of her eye, Rinli caught Madlen’s mouth curve into a tiny “o,” but she made no comment.

  “Well, there they are,” Rinli heard her father say from behind her.

  “She got your letter. That’s Uncle Nalin with her.”

  Her father patted her on the shoulder. “Yes, it is. We’ll have to be careful around him to just speak Garlan. Madlen, do you remember all I taught you?”

  “I think so. But he’s here in Thristas. Shouldn’t he speak Thristan?”

  “He’s only going to be here for a few nights and then probably never come back again.”

  “I thought he only had one leg,” Madlen said. “How can he ride?”

  “My mother had a saddle designed for him,” Rinli replied, puffing a bit with pride in her mother’s ingenuity. “It’s got a false boot or something on the right.”

  “Enough, you two. They’re nearly here.” Rinli’s father stood between them, an arm over each of their shoulders.

  At the sound of footsteps directly behind them, Rinli turned to see Elder Hozia and Elder Raakon join their little welcome party. The weight of formality settled upon Rinli, and her instincts begged her to run away, now, before she couldn’t. She didn’t move. It was too late.

  Her mother kicked her horse into a canter for the last few yards, and she was down off her horse and in front of Rinli’s father before anyone could blink. Her mother and her father stood there briefly within a foot of one another, and Rinli felt her father pull his arm from her and saw him reclaim his other arm from Madlen. Her parents exchanged no words, but in unison they each raised their right hand, and with the palm out, they touched each other’s chest. All was left unspoken.