The Rival

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  The Elders glanced at him, as if they couldn't believe his sudden burst of temper. He wasn't certain he could believe it either. But, after a rocky start, he'd finally reached an equilibrium with his office, an equilibrium that had lasted nearly a decade. Now he felt as if he were tossed into a murky area, an area he never wanted to walk, again.

  "Hume, stay, please," Titus said.

  The other Elders slowly made their way out the door. Porciluna paused at it, as if he had more to say, but Titus just glared at him. Porciluna left.

  Titus went to the door and pushed it closed. Then he leaned on it, feeling the ridged surface of the designs against his back. "We have finally come to it," he said.

  Hume sat on the arm of a plush chair. He still hunched, as if he were trying to see the ground. "Holy water."

  Titus nodded. "We have enough to start an attack if we need to, but not to sustain it, not with those numbers out there. But this time I know if I make it, I make it as a weapon and not as an instrument of the religion."

  "There is precedent," Hume said, "The fiftieth Rocaan did so in the first Fey invasion."

  "Under Matthias's guidance."

  "Nonetheless," Hume said. "The Fiftieth Rocaan was his own man. He would not have made the choice if he had not believed in it."

  Titus sighed. "I don't believe in it," he said. "I don't believe that our place in this religion is to kill people. The Roca showed that by setting down his sword."

  "He didn't set down his sword, Holy Sir. He cleaned it and gave it to the Soldiers of the Enemy. That could be interpreted as an act which showed that sometimes killing is necessary."

  Titus smiled. "You're not making this easier."

  "I didn't know I was supposed to," Hume said. Then he leaned back. "My point is, Holy Sir, that I am a scholar. I can find something in the Words to defend any belief you hold."

  "You also believe," Titus said. "I didn't ask you to stay for your knowledge. I wanted to know what your heart tells you."

  Hume looked at his hands. They were crabbed and bent, stained with ink, and filthy.

  "Hume," Titus said.

  "My heart says two things," Hume spoke slowly. "When I am faced with the Soldiers of the Enemy, when I am faced with my own death, I could not encourage it as the Roca did. I would fight back, using anything at my disposal."

  "But?" Titus asked.

  "But when there is peace and a moment of calm, I believe that man should not take a life."

  "We do so all the time. The food we eat — "

  "An intelligent life. The Fey, no matter what they may represent to us, are beings as we are. They live, they think, they love. I cannot condone killing them."

  "Even in war?" Titus asked.

  "War." Hume rubbed his hands on his robe. The ink smudges disappeared from part of his fingers, but the blackness of the robe hid any dirt. "I do not, nor have I ever, believed in war, Holy Sir."

  "Although they make it on us?"

  "They have not for a generation. We do not know what their intentions are. My advice to you, if that is what you are seeking, Holy Sir, is to wait until Reece has spoken with them. Then make your decision."

  "And fight them if they fight?"

  Hume took a deep breath and released it. "Replace any holy water that gets used, as you usually do. Assume that you are making it for religious reasons."

  "But I won't be," Titus said.

  Hume stood. "That is where we run into the scholarly difficulties, Holy Sir. An act of war just might be a holy thing."

  "What are you saying, Hume?" Titus asked.

  Hume licked his lips. "I'm saying, Holy Sir, that the last few years of the Roca's life were spent fighting invaders, Soldiers of the Enemy. We assume he defeated them because we worship him, not them. And we believe that his act of self-sacrifice was the defining moment in that defeat."

  "Yes?" Titus said, not sure he liked how this was going.

  "Our great religious leader, the man we call Beloved of God, the man we have raised to the level of God, waged war, Holy Sir. He led men into battle. You might have to as well."

  Hume's words hung between them. Titus stepped away from the door. He felt numb. "You may go," he said.

  Hume nodded, then let himself out.

  The religious leader as warrior prince. The sword as weapon and symbol. Holy water as purifier and killer.

  It all added up.

  Which made Titus hate it, even more.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The fingers on his face were cool, light. Nicholas started awake. Sebastian bent over him, the skin around his gray eyes crinkled with worry.

  " … Pa … ," Sebastian said softly.

  Nicholas stretched. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He was sitting in the chair beside the fireplace in Sebastian's room. He had sat down only for a moment, after posting several guards on his children, and watched Sebastian sleep, wondering how a child that had been so much a part of his life could be anything but his flesh and blood. The fact that Sebastian wasn't really human but made of stone made even less sense.

  The room was full of early morning light, the soft kind that crept across floors and took the darkness away. It was still pink with the dawn. Sebastian was wearing his night robe. He was crouched beside Nicholas's chair.

  His fingers brushed Nicholas's face again.

  " … Pa … ?"

  Nicholas caught Sebastian's hand in his own, and squeezed the boy's hard, smooth palm before letting it go. "I'm awake, son," he said. The word "son" sent a shiver through him. It was accurate and inaccurate at the same time.

  " … Pa … ," Sebastian said, then swept his left hand toward the open window. He seemed agitated. His lower lip was trembling and he could not remain still.

  Nicholas ran a hand through his son's straw-like hair, then stood up. He was still wearing the ceremonial robe from the night before. He hadn't been asleep long. It hadn't quite been dawn when the group left the war room, and Nicholas had come down here to make certain his children were well guarded. He had planned, at dawn, to send a message to the Rocaan. Enough divisiveness. They had to work together.

  His boots hurt his feet, and his clothing felt sticky. Sebastian stepped aside as Nicholas made his way to the window.

  The dawn was pink, as he had expected. Clouds streaked across the sky in various hues of red, mixing with some solid yellows. The air smelled of roses and fresh grass. It would be a beautiful day.

  Sebastian came to his side, and pointed downward. Nicholas leaned his hands on the stone ledge and peered out.

  The gardens were strangely silent. Usually at this time of day, the birds chirruped and made a raucous song. This morning, though, they covered the trees, the shrubs, and the grass. Hundreds upon hundreds of starlings, robins, and gulls stared at the palace. Nicholas couldn't recognize all of the species. He recognized eagles, but not the large birds that sat beside them. Birds with long multicolored beaks sat on the topmost branches. They were larger than many cats, and their beaks looked as if they could break smaller animals in half.

  Nicholas glanced to his left. Birds, in a circle around the palace. He glanced to his right. More birds. Then he backed out of the window, crossed the room, and looked out the other window. The far side of the garden was also filled with birds, and even more sat on the stone wall protecting the palace. As he peered toward the kitchens, he saw birds spread like a carpet across the courtyard.

  " … Pa … ," Sebastian said softly. He pointed again. Nicholas squinted.

  A tiny Fey sat above the wings of every bird.

  Nicholas backed away from the window, nearly tripping on the other chair in the room. Sebastian caught it before it fell, a fast move for the boy.

  "What is it?" Nicholas whispered. "What are they doing?"

  " … I … don't … know … ," Sebastian said.

  "How did you know they were there?"

  " … Magick … ," Sebastian said.

  Nicholas nodded. That didn't surprise him. Sebastian had
sensed magick before, most notably the day Arianna's grandfather arrived to steal her. Sebastian had been three then, and more terrified than any living being had a right to be, at least according to Solanda.

  But Sebastian didn't always sense magick. Something was different.

  "Is this dangerous?" Nicholas asked.

  Sebastian brought his head up once, then down again. The boy seemed distracted, as if part of him were concentrating on the birds and not on Nicholas.

  The door to Sebastian's room opened, and Arianna came in. Her hair was down, her feet were bare, and she wore her thin night robe. Half a dozen guards trailed her.

  "Daddy?" she asked, worry in her voice. She let out a sigh when she saw him.

  "I know, Ari," he said.

  "They've all got tiny Fey on them."

  He knew that too. He also knew what it meant.

  It meant the Black King wasn't going to negotiate.

  "You," Nicholas said to one of the guards, "I want you to get all the servants to close the tapestries and bolt the doors. I want guards posted on each window. If there aren't enough guards, post male servants. I want the most experienced guards on my children, and make certain they are armed."

  "Holy water, Sire?" the guard asked, his gaze darting to Arianna before he looked directly at the King.

  Nicholas hesitated, and as he did, he remembered seeing Fey die, even when the holy water didn't hit them directly. "No," he said. "Swords will have to do."

  "Aye, Sire," the guard said. He bowed, turned and left.

  "We'll be all right, Daddy," Arianna said. "I can protect Sebastian."

  "You have no idea what you're up against," Nicholas said. He wasn't even certain he did. He raised the tapestry, and peered out the window again. The birds blacked the area around the palace for a long distance. He didn't even try to count them; he suspected there were more birds around the palace than had been in the entire first invasion force.

  Then he raised his chin, looked beyond the beautiful sunrise, and stared into his city. He couldn't see movement from this distance, but smoke was coming from an area west of the river. A lot of smoke.

  He had to think. The Black King had come for his great-grandchildren. Nicholas had to hide them until he knew the Black King's intentions.

  Jewel had known of the war room and some of the tunnels. She had seen them long before she and Nicholas were married. She might have reported their existence to the other Fey who now might be part of the Black King's force.

  The only place he could think of were the dungeons. Jewel had never seen them, and Nicholas had never used them. His father had only once, when the Fey invaded the first time, and that hadn't really worked either. The Fey hadn't made it that deep. The prisoner had killed the guard before they reached the dungeons.

  He took Sebastian by the hand. "You're both going to have to come with me," Nicholas said.

  Arianna planted her feet. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm taking you somewhere safe."

  "You're hiding us."

  Nicholas suppressed a sigh. He didn't have time to fight with her now. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

  "I won't hide," she said. "You need me."

  He had said those same words to his father during the first invasion. He suspected now that it had something to do with being young and thinking oneself immortal.

  "I need you alive, Arianna," he said, "and I need you to guard Sebastian."

  "You can't hide us just because — "

  "I can and I will," Nicholas said. "The Shaman told me to keep you safe."

  "But I can hide in plain sight," Arianna said.

  He grabbed his daughter and pulled her away from the guards. Then he lowered his voice. "First of all, I need you to protect your brother. But secondly, you've never faced Fey. Real Fey. They're used to your magick. The people here are not. You might think you can hide in plain sight, but not from them."

  "I could hide from Solanda. She was a real Fey. She was the same as me."

  "It's not the same," Nicholas said.

  "It is," Arianna said.

  Nicholas's stomach turned. She was his daughter, Jewel's daughter. She wasn't going to hide. He wouldn't have hidden at her age. He had yelled at his father for trying to make him hide. Arianna had an even greater imperative.

  She had the blood of two warriors running through her.

  "You can be smart and fight," she said.

  He crossed his arms. "Is that what you did when you nearly killed your real brother?"

  "That isn't the same," she said. "He was trying to get Sebastian."

  "What do you think these Fey want?" Nicholas asked. He put his hands on the window. The birds below looked up at him. Their Fey counterparts did as well. He grabbed the tapestry and pulled it over the window. "If they had wanted to slaughter us, they would have done so already. Look how many there are, Arianna. More than we have. And those are just Beast Riders. There have to be Infantry and Foot Soldiers and all other kinds of Fey on this Isle. There are fires in the west. What do you think caused that?"

  She swallowed. "You're saying they're guarding us?"

  "I'm saying they're being cautious. They know that there is Black Blood in this palace, and they're going to wait until they know who it belongs to before slaughtering everyone else."

  "Sebastian isn't flesh and blood," she said.

  "They don't know that."

  "They might." She glanced at her brother. His head was tilted, his eyes empty. It was almost as if he were listening to faraway music.

  "It doesn't matter. You have Black Blood."

  She touched her brother's cheek. He started, looked at her, and frowned. "Then hiding us will make no difference," she said.

  Nicholas watched her. It didn't matter to her that Sebastian wasn't her blood kin. It didn't change her behavior at all. She loved him with a fierceness that Nicholas had never seen in anyone.

  "If they know we're here — and they do — then they'll hunt for us until they find us. They'll look everywhere. Putting us in the dungeon, or down in the tunnels will just prolong the search."

  She sounded like he had when he was young. And she was right. The Fey were ruthless. Once they started to fight, they wouldn't stop. Once they searched the palace, they would search until they found Arianna and Sebastian.

  He took a deep breath. He didn't want to risk his daughter or his son, his Sebastian. His children were everything to him.

  The problem was they had been at risk from the moment they were born.

  "So what do you suggest?" he asked.

  "I don't know yet," Arianna said.

  He didn't know either. Beast Riders outside, the city on fire, and he couldn't use holy water for fear of hurting his own children.

  He was surrounded and outnumbered.

  But he had assets. He just had to find them.

  "You won't put yourself in jeopardy," he said.

  Arianna laughed. "I can't promise that, Daddy."

  "You're the future of Blue Isle, Ari. You."

  She shook her head, her eyes sad. "You have two children, Daddy. If something happens to me, you'll have to trust Sebastian."

  " … Three … ," Sebastian said.

  They both turned to him. Nicholas hadn't expected his son to speak.

  "You … have … three … child-ren," Sebastian said. " … Ari, … me, … and … Gift."

  "Gift was raised by Fey. He'll help the Black King," Arianna said.

  Nicholas grabbed her arm. He wasn't so certain that his son-by-blood would help the Fey. The boy had come here, to save Sebastian, or so he claimed.

  The boy was Jewel's son. Jewel's and his. That had to count for something.

  " … No … ," Sebastian said. "Re-mem-ber … the … Link … "

  "The Link?" Arianna asked. "You're Linked with him now?"

  "Al-ways," Sebastian said.

  Nicholas frowned. Sebastian knew what Gift was doing? "Has he joined up with his great-grandfather?"

  S
ebastian disappeared from his eyes. So that was what it looked like when he checked his Link. When his life force returned, his eyes filled with tears. "Gift … is … a-lone. … No … Black … King … … But … some-thing … is … wrong. … Gift … hurts." Sebastian sank to his knees. " … He … hurts."

  THIRTY-NINE

  He did not consider himself a courageous man. In fact, as he walked down the steps from the Rocaan's suite, Reece thought himself one of the greatest cowards he had ever known. His hands were shaking and his mouth was dry. He wasn't certain he could get two words out at one time.

  But the Rocaan, as a boy of fourteen, had faced the Fey alone. He hadn't even had holy water with him when he went into the Fey's magick circle.

  Reece could match a boy of fourteen.

  He hoped.

  An Aud had offered him a vial of holy water, but Reece had refused. He would go out to speak with the tiny Fey unarmed. He would show them that the Tabernacle wasn't afraid of them. He would show them that the Tabernacle would speak to them in good faith.

  That was why he had chosen to go, why he had spoken up before the Rocaan appointed someone else. Reece was frightened, yes, but he knew that his duty to the Tabernacle was greater than his duty to himself. He also knew that many of the other Elders had yet to make that realization.

  The Tabernacle seemed oddly dark with all the tapestries drawn over the windows. Someone had lit the candles and the torches on the main level. It looked like a storm had hit mid-day, and the Tabernacle itself was preparing for an eternal darkness.

  He clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking, but he knew it would do no good. They would smell the fear on him, all those animals. He could only hope their Fey masters were able to keep the animals reigned in.

  "Respected Sir?" one of the Danites bobbed beside him. Reece, who normally remembered everyone's name, couldn't recall this Danite's, even though he knew the man. Reece's mind was so focused on those Fey, there wasn't room for anything else.