The Shadow's Heir (The Risen Sun)

by K J Taylor

  “The first group of them are on their way here now,” said Arenadd. “But we’ll discuss that later. For now, we all need rest.”

  “Then I shall see ye later,” said Saeddryn.

  Arenadd caught Iorwerth as he started to leave, and muttered something to him. Iorwerth nodded back, and a moment later they were both walking off as if nothing had happened.

  Laela had seen it. She frowned, then shook her head and walked off after Oeka, deciding that she was too tired to wonder about it for the time being.

  She didn’t know whether to be surprised or disturbed to find that her room hadn’t changed at all since she’d last seen it. Someone had obviously been in to clean it up and put fresh sheets on the bed, and there was a bath ready and a good fire in the grate, but this could have been her room at the end of an ordinary day—not after more than nine months away.

  She yawned and stripped off her clothes before climbing into the tub, while Oeka went into her nest.

  The hot water felt good. Laela sighed and relaxed into it, feeling it soothe her sore muscles. She actually fell asleep, and woke up to find the water cold. Shivering, she gave herself a cursory wash and got out. There was a new, warm woollen gown waiting for her on the bed. She put it on, her mind suddenly full of one person.

  Yorath.

  Laela realised that she hadn’t thought about him in ages.

  Guilt made her shiver. Poor old Yorath. Did he still miss her? Was he waiting now, expecting her to come and see him?

  The guilt only lasted briefly, though, before she started thinking of the feast instead. The thought of food made her stomach gurgle, and she sighed to herself and pulled on her boots before going to fetch Oeka. The griffin was awake, and just as eager to go—though more to find out what had been happening while they’d been away.

  Outside, a passing servant told them the feast was being held on top of the Council Tower, where celebrations usually were.

  Sure enough, when Laela emerged into the open air, she found herself surrounded by the sounds of music and laughter. People and griffins were everywhere, mingling freely. Night had come by now, and long, metal stakes holding torches lit up the place. A group of musicians were playing, and tables had been set up and laden with food.

  Some of the feasters were sitting down, but plenty were walking around freely. A few people were even dancing.

  Oeka saw the carcasses that had been laid out for the griffins. “I will go and eat now, Laela,” she said. “Go—find food for yourself. Enjoy yourself!” she added. “We are home, and all is well. This is our night.”

  Laela nodded vaguely and wandered off among the crowd. She stopped at the nearest table and helped herself to a slab of bread covered in hot venison, and some cheese, roasted carrots, and a toffee-coated apple to follow. The finest mead, all the way from Fruitsheart, had been brought out, and she gulped down a mugful. It warmed her up and made her feel better, so she had another one.

  “Gods, I needed that.” She sighed.

  Without any warning, a man appeared to her right. He shouted something at her in the dark tongue, and clapped her hard on the shoulder.

  Laela almost hit him before she realised he was being friendly. “Hullo,” she said, using griffish.

  The man grinned and held out a hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Had a little too much t’drink.”

  Laela linked fingers with him and gave the traditional tug. “I understand that just fine,” she said. “I’m plannin’ t’have too much myself, in fact.”

  The man laughed loudly. “That’s the spirit. Name’s Dewitt. My dad’s the Master of Building.”

  “Pleased t’meet yeh,” Laela said politely.

  “I’m more than pleased t’meet ye, my lady,” said Dewitt. “I’m honoured.”

  Laela laughed awkwardly. “I ain’t nobody special.”

  “Ye freed the slaves, my lady,” said Dewitt, completely serious now. “I heard the whole story.”

  “I did my duty,” said Laela.

  Dewitt looked keenly at her. “Yer duty to who, though?”

  “To the North,” said Laela.

  He grinned. “Thought ye’d say that. Well, I’ve got more drinkin’ to do, so if ye’ll excuse me . . .”

  Laela let him go and refilled her own mug before wandering off through the crowd. To her surprise, more than one person stopped her to say similar things as Dewitt. They called her by her title now, all of them. Lady Laela. There were no suspicious looks or half-hidden sneers.

  Laela, by now a little drunk, ran into Arenadd almost without realising it. He had been talking quietly to someone, and when he saw her, his expression faltered for an instant before he relaxed again. “Laela, there you are,” he said. “We were just talking about you.”

  Laela nodded briefly to him. “Sire.”

  The person Arenadd had been talking to was a woman—and Laela was surprised when she recognised her. It was Aderyn—the priestess who had first begun to teach her about the Night God.

  Tonight, Aderyn was wearing a fine silver gown, and she looked at Laela with open admiration. “So here ye are,” she said. “Home triumphant, eh, my lady?”

  Laela smiled at her. “Hullo. By the Night God, I’m surprised t’see yeh here. How’ve yeh been?”

  “I’ve been well,” said Aderyn. “But not as well as ye, by the sound of it. The King tells me ye did us all a great service in Amoran.”

  “My duty,” Laela said automatically.

  “A great service,” said Aderyn. “To the King, to the North, to the darkmen—an’ so to the Night God herself.”

  Laela grunted noncommittally. The idea of doing anything for a god didn’t appeal to her much now.

  “So Aderyn and I have decided,” Arenadd cut in. “Tell her, Aderyn.”

  “Yes, Sire.” Aderyn folded her hands over her stomach. “We’ve decided it’s high time ye were welcomed into the Night God’s arms, Laela.”

  Laela’s insides lurched slightly. “What d’yeh mean by that?”

  “That it’s time for the womanhood ceremony,” said Aderyn.

  “Oh.”

  “We’ve decided the Crow tribe is right for ye,” the priestess went on. “So yer own ceremony must happen on the night of the new moon—an’ it’ll be a while before that happens!” She chuckled and pointed at the sky. “See how bright the Night God’s eye is tonight. I’ve never seen it so big. She must know great things are happening down here.”

  Laela followed her hand, and gasped. The moon was enormous. Tinged with gold, it sat on the horizon like a massive . . .

  . . . eye.

  Laela shivered. “Is it meant t’do that?”

  “It’s happened before,” said Arenadd. “It’s a sign that the Night God is watching very closely.” He kept his eyes on the moon as he spoke, and Laela caught just a hint of unease in his voice. “Very closely,” he said again, more quietly.

  “Well,” said Aderyn. “What do ye think, my lady? Are ye ready for it?”

  “I suppose so,” said Laela, without enthusiasm.

  “Good. Then I’ll take it up with the High Priestess. I’m sure she’ll be happy t’ask the Crow priestess to conduct the ceremony.”

  “Yeah.” Laela took another swallow from her mug and muttered a quick “Excuse me” before walking off.

  She didn’t want to think about the Night God now. She didn’t want to think of Gryphus, either. Once upon a time, she’d been more or less indifferent to the whole idea of gods, but now they made her feel sick and frightened. She was tired of it all.

  She distracted herself with another drink and some more food. It left her stomach feeling warm and wonderful, and she relaxed again.

  Laughter rose from the crowd nearby, and Laela stopped and watched as Penllyn staggered away, helping a visib
ly drunk Saeddryn. She laughed, and only laughed again more loudly at how Aenae primly ignored the jokes being thrown at him.

  Saeddryn’s gown was a mess, and the silver circlet with the crescent moon she wore was askew. She muttered some half-coherent curse, before Penllyn led her away through the trapdoor and down into the tower.

  Laela took a swig of mead and snickered to herself. She hoped Oeka hadn’t missed it.

  She turned, hoping to see her around, and froze when her eye caught someone else. He had seen her, too, and now he was coming toward her.

  “Yorath.”

  Yorath had grown a beard. It made him look older, more mature and reserved. “Laela.”

  They stood awkwardly, neither one willing to speak.

  “How have yeh been?” Laela said eventually.

  Yorath smiled, but it was a careful smile. “I’ve been . . . well, my lady.”

  “Don’t call me that, Yorath,” said Laela.

  “I have to,” said Yorath. “Ye’re a lady now.”

  There was another awkward silence.

  “I heard about the Amorani prince,” said Yorath. “I’m happy for ye. Really.”

  “What?” Laela started. “No, Yorath—stop. It wasn’t like that.”

  “Really? How wasn’t it? My lady.”

  “I never even slept with him, Yorath,” Laela lied. “He didn’t come back with us. It was just a marriage of convenience. The Emperor wouldn’t let us seal the deal with him without it. It’s an Amorani custom.”

  “Oh.” Yorath’s face was blank.

  “I had t’do it,” said Laela, not sure whom she was trying to convince. “Sometimes the realm comes before we do.”

  “Exactly,” said Yorath.

  Laela watched him unhappily. He wasn’t angry with her, not really. For her part, she didn’t know what to say or how she felt.

  “Well,” said Yorath. “I’m . . . I think I’ll go and get something to eat if that’s all right with ye, my lady.”

  Laela searched desperately for something to say. Something, anything. Something to reach out to him, to show him she still . . .

  . . . still what?

  Yorath took her silence as permission and walked away.

  Laela, watching him go, tried to convince herself that she was upset.

  But she wasn’t. No matter how hard she tried, she felt nothing. It was as if Yorath were a stranger to her now. She’d enjoyed her time with him, but now it was over and there was nothing she could do.

  The last of the enjoyment had gone out of the evening. Laela finished her drink, put the mug down on a table, and wandered off. She needed to get back to her room and sleep off the mead, and hopefully it would all look clearer in the morning.

  She couldn’t see Oeka anywhere, so she shrugged and went down through the trapdoor. It was warmer inside, and she stumped off down the sloped corridor and into the tower proper.

  As she was passing a door, she heard the faint sound of a voice. She paused to listen, and grinned to herself. It was Saeddryn. No doubt the High Priestess was doing what Bran had always called “lettin’ the drink do the talkin’.”

  Laela pressed herself against the door and listened.

  That was when she realised there was more than one voice.

  30

  Under the Watching Moon

  The voices were speaking griffish. Even though Laela knew the language fairly well by now, here it was being spoken fast and fluently—and coming through a thick door—and she struggled to keep up.

  “. . . supposed to come back!” This was Saeddryn’s voice.

  “Did . . . could . . . try.” A second voice. It was a man’s, but Laela didn’t think she recognised it.

  “. . . didn’t try hard enough!” Saeddryn’s higher voice carried more.

  There was a sound of footsteps, as one of the speakers moved closer to the door. Laela started away instinctively, but returned when she heard the man’s voice, more clearly this time. “He went right into the Sun Temple!” he said. “I did everythin’ to goad him into it, and Seerae kept the Mighty Sk—”

  “Shut up!” Saeddryn came closer, too. “Do ye want the whole Eyrie t’know?”

  “Well, ye can forget tryin’ again,” the man snapped back. “It’s impossible. The Night God is watchful and protective.”

  Silence.

  “I know the Night God,” Saeddryn said at last. “Don’t ye dare question her will!”

  “I’m sorry, Holy One,” said the man. “But in all honesty, how d’ye expect us to ever succeed? With the Mighty Skandar there, nobody could ever—”

  Something huge shifted its bulk on the other side of the door. “I shall take care of my father,” said another voice. A griffin’s voice.

  “There shall be no faltering,” a fourth voice agreed. Another griffin. “I shall see my mother avenged.”

  “But how?” Saeddryn, a note of despair in her voice. “How?”

  “Do not despair,” said the first griffin. Aenae, Laela thought. “He has returned weakened. And he need not be killed at all. As long as the people believed it . . . how would they know he was not dead when he was put into his tomb?”

  They’re gonna kill him, Laela thought, quite calmly. They want t’kill Arenadd. And Skandar, too.

  “Yes,” Saeddryn muttered. “Of course! I’ve seen him rendered unconscious many times—put a dagger in his heart and leave it there, and he won’t wake. If we could . . .”

  “He saved our whole country,” the man said coldly. “And ye’re talkin’ about burying him alive.”

  “But what else can we do?” said Saeddryn.

  “If he could be persuaded to—”

  “I already tried that! All of us tried it! He wouldn’t listen! I know he did great things for us, but it’s time this land moved on. Or would ye prefer to sit back and do nothing while we make treaties with sun worshippers?”

  Laela moved away from the door. I’ve stayed here way too long, she thought.

  She had. As she turned to leave as quietly as she could, the door opened. There was a shout, and before she could do anything someone had grabbed her by the shoulder. She didn’t struggle as she was dragged into the room and hurled down.

  Saeddryn stood over her. She looked furious, and a lot less drunk than she’d seemed. “Half-breed!” she snarled.

  Laela stood up and brushed herself off as coolly as she could. “Lady Saeddryn.” She looked toward the man who’d been with her, and nodded. “An’ Lord Penllyn.”

  Aenae started up furiously, raising his talons. “You were listening!” he hissed. He looked very much like his father in that moment.

  “Yeah, I was listenin’,” said Laela. “Seems you lot’ve got somethin’ t’learn about secrecy.”

  “What are we going t’do now?” said Penllyn.

  “Kill her,” said Aenae. “I will make sure that there are no remains.”

  “I think I got a better idea,” Laela said hastily.

  “And what is that?” demanded Seerae—Penllyn’s griffin.

  “Let me join yeh,” said Laela. “Help yeh. I’m the one the King trusts most; I could be the answer to yer prayers.”

  “The King gave ye everything,” said Saeddryn. “Why would ye want to betray him?”

  Laela snarled at her. “Because he murdered my mother,” she said. “That’s why.”

  “What?” Penllyn’s eyes widened. “When? How d’ye know?”

  “I’m a half-breed,” said Laela. “My mother was a Southerner, then, wasn’t she? An’ the King killed her, with his own hands. He killed my uncle, too, an’ my grandparents. My whole family. Don’t yeh think I want revenge for that?”

  “Ye could have taken it this whole time,” said Saeddryn. “An’ if
ye knew that, why did ye join with him in the first place? Why did ye save him from the river?”

  “I was bidin’ my time,” said Laela. “Waitin’ until I was as close to him as I could get. Doin’ everythin’ to make him trust me.”

  “But why rescue him?” said Saeddryn.

  Laela thought of Gryphus. “I wanted him t’die on my terms,” she said. “That’s why.”

  Penllyn still looked nervous and suspicious, but Aenae had retracted his talons. “Perhaps we can make use of her,” he said.

  There was a glitter in Saeddryn’s eyes that made her look very much like her cousin. “It seems we have a common goal, then, Lady Laela.”

  “Yeah, we do,” said Laela. “But don’t think I’m trustin’ yeh until yeh let me out of here.”

  “Of course.” Saeddryn stood aside, leaving the path to the door clear. “Go, then. I’ll think on what ye’ve said, an’ send a message when the time is right.”

  “Right.” Laela nodded to her and strode away, aware of Aenae’s stare on the back of her neck all the while.

  When she was out of the room, it took a strong effort not to run. She did her best to look as calm as possible and walked rapidly away back up the corridor the way she’d come.

  She reached the top of the tower again without any trouble. By now, the feast was starting to wind down; most of the food was gone, and the guests along with it. Laela walked rapidly toward the other edge of the tower, looking for Arenadd.

  But Skandar wasn’t there, and she knew that Arenadd would be with him. Laela swung around and went back toward the trapdoor, her heart pattering frantically.

  “Laela!” The cry came from above, and something big rushed straight at her.

  Laela screamed.

  “Laela! Laela! Do not do that!”

  “Oeka!” Laela clutched at her chest. “Don’t ever do that again!”

  “Sorry.” Oeka dipped her head briefly. “I was looking for you. Where have you been?”

  “I went inside,” said Laela. “Did yeh see where Arenadd went?”

  “The Mighty Skandar has gone back to his nest, and his human with him,” said Oeka.