by R. J. Larson
Again the cold sneer. “Have you?”
Akabe met his look evenly. “I have. My life would have been far easier if I’d turned Atean. However, despite my unworthiness, the Infinite has proven Himself to me in more ways than I can count.” He stared at this Thaenfall relative. “Has your goddess defended you? Ever?”
Now silent as Caitria, the defeated man turned his head, scorning to answer.
If only Ela or Kien could be here now. They might win him over. Akabe gritted his teeth. “Because of what I represent, and because I wish to restore the Infinite’s Holy House to Siphra, you wish to kill me. But I want you to survive—or at least to be freed of the spiritual coils which ensnare you.”
“Fool,” the cousin muttered. He closed his eyes, refusing to answer another question.
Exasperated, Akabe nodded at the waiting guards, who hauled the wounded man to his feet and dragged him from the chamber.
Still trembling and staring at the bloodstained floor, Caitria spoke in a monotone. “Majesty, you should set me aside.”
Was she serious? Aware of his lords watching and listening, Akabe said, “We will discuss this later.”
“May I be excused to my rooms, sir?”
“Of course. Send Barth to me if you need anything.”
She departed at a sleepwalker’s pace, seeming oblivious to everything. Set me aside, she’d said.
No doubt half of Siphra would approve, despite the sacred land provided by her dowry. And yet . . . She’d been trembling as she said the words. Not looking at him to convince him of her sincerity.
Around him, Faine, Trillcliff, and Piton waited. Akabe motioned the three to remain quiet. He nodded to Riddig and the guards. “Thank you. That will be all for now. Close the doors as you leave.”
The instant they were alone, Piton lifted his hands in a gesture of frustration. Apparently fearful of listeners at the door, he whispered, “How do we rid ourselves of these attacks?”
“Draw out the Ateans,” Trillcliff suggested, equally quiet.
Faine nodded, his voice barely audible. “We need a plan, sworn to silence between us four.”
“Six.” Akabe sank into a chair, his thoughts speeding ahead. “Whatever the plan, it must include Lord and Lady Aeyrievale when they return to Munra.”
Trillcliff’s bristly silvery eyebrows lifted, and he nodded. “Most suitable, sir. We agree.”
The three lords pulled footrests and stools near to Akabe and seated themselves. Arguably displaying the most courage, or the least wisdom, Faine cleared his throat. “Majesty, about the queen . . .”
“I will deal with the queen.”
Gently, Piton said, “If evidence is found of her complicity, she must be brought to trial.”
“I will deal with the queen!” Remembering Caitria’s apparent shock and her request to be set aside, Akabe shook his head. Did his advisors not see a vulnerable young woman hiding behind that cold façade she showed to his court? A wife Akabe might cherish if he could reach her? He stared at his advisors until they shrugged, exhaled, or looked away. “Now, my lords, let me hear your ideas for finding these enemies who wish to kill me and keep our temple in ruins.”
Lulled by Scythe’s ambling pace and nearly two days of travel, Ela dozed. Until Kien jostled her awake. “We’ll be in Aeyrievale soon!”
Perking up, Ela straightened in Kien’s arms and studied the meadows on either side of the road, which curved up into foothills, then rugged mountains beyond. “Are those the Snake Mountains?”
“I believe so. Bryce said our fief shelters in the Snake Mountains and escapes beneath its fangs, so to speak, where the river finally empties into the sea.”
Ela frowned. “Then while traveling between the Tracelands and Siphra, we’ve crossed your lands, not knowing it.”
“Our lands,” Kien corrected. “And, yes, you’re right.”
Lindorms plagued those mountains. Ela squelched her fear of the vicious, lethal giant snakes. Surely Bryce would have alerted Kien and Prill to local lindorm infestations. But she shuddered, watching for the beasts as Bryce led their procession among the winding foothills.
Gradually the landscape changed, drawing her admiration. Towering, castle-like formations of gray rocks and steep cliffs walled a lush, stunningly green river valley. Here and there, rough stone walls protected rural stone dwellings. And herds of sheep grazed in bright meadows. Soon shepherds waved and yelled enthusiastic greetings to Bryce.
But, to a man, the shepherds’ excitement shifted to frowns when they saw Ela and Kien.
Matters didn’t improve as Bryce guided Ela and Kien through a rustic town. Fleece-clad men shook their heads, turning away in obvious disgust. Wool-clad women pursed their lips or clicked their tongues audibly before stomping into snug stone homes roofed with straw thatch.
Kien muttered to Ela, “We’ve displeased them without saying a word. What will happen if we dare speak?”
Before Ela could answer, Flame snagged a huge mouthful of thatch from a cottage roof and ripped it away, causing the roof to buckle.
Screams echoed from inside the cottage.
15
Flame! No more!” Ela reached over Kien’s arm, beckoning her sullen still-chewing destroyer. “I know you’re hungry, but thatch roofs are not food!”
Flame gulped the mouthful and tilted her dark head away from the beleaguered home, outwardly obedient. However, Ela caught a rebellious glint in those black monster-horse eyes. Wonderful. If she and Kien couldn’t find a suitable food source for these ever-grazing beasts, they’d be barred from Aeyrievale. Meanwhile, they must apologize.
Kien whispered, “Let’s dismount and be sure those people are unharmed!”
Dear man. If this situation weren’t so distressing, she would kiss his beguiling lips.
They dismounted, and Kien rapped on the home’s carved wooden door. A plump woman finally answered, her tawny eyes round, her mouth crimped tight as if suppressing a scream. Kien inclined his head. “I am Kien Lantec. This is my wife, Ela.” As Ela offered the woman a sympathetic smile, Kien continued. “We’re sorry. We’ll pay for repairs to your roof and forbid our destroyers any foraging in the village.”
“Huh!” the woman sniffed, recovering her evidently formidable spirit. “The beast may’s well gnaw on our homes—an’ why not? Just addin’ to the aeryon’s attacks!”
Kien unleashed a warm smile and murmured, “We’ll be sure your homes are protected. Your name is . . . ?”
The woman blinked, then stammered, “M-Mallissa Nones. The husband’s Naor.” A rough-hewn man stepped up behind Mallissa now, giving Ela and Kien a scornful nod.
Ela sighed. Oh, Infinite, why—apart from the ravenous destroyers—did these people dislike her and Kien? “Again, we’re sorry.”
Mallissa looked Ela over, clearly disapproving her riding boots, soft-layered blue tunic, the gold armband, and Ela’s long braid. “I’m sure.”
A dismissal if Ela had ever heard one. Kien gave the irate villager another charming smile, then offered his arm to Ela with a courtier’s grace. “Let’s depart before Scythe’s appetite threatens another roof.”
Ela shot a warning look at Pet. “No eating houses!” He shifted and turned—obviously feigning disinterest in the nearest thatch roof. Kien helped Ela climb onto Flame, then he seated himself on Pet and nodded to Bryce, who waited, cool and composed in his chariot.
Without inflection, Bryce told Naor and Mallissa, “Come up to the manor tomorrow and state your damages to me. I’ll pay and order the roof repaired.”
Clearly respectful of Aeyrievale’s steward, Naor nodded. “As you say, sir.”
Following Bryce, they set a brisk pace along the slab-paved main road. At the village’s edge, Bryce diverted from the main road onto a broad, walled stone track carved into a gray cliff.
Was this home? Ela almost gasped, looking upward along the stone track. A series of gated arches, terraces, and towers led her gaze toward a succession of magnificent buil
dings that crowned the cliff’s sheer drop into the valley below. Vines and a misted waterfall tumbled over the highest cliff, dissipating as it neared the ground.
Suspicious, roughened, weapon-carrying men eyed Kien and Ela at each gated terrace, seeming reluctant to allow them through. As it was, because of Pet’s height, Kien had to duck slightly to avoid striking his head on the stone archways.
The uppermost stone gate led into a paved courtyard. Ela slowly dismounted, still staring. How could this now be her home? Impossible. Entirely too grand. However . . . she noted that some of the tall shutters were splintered, while those vines—pretty as the flowers were—ought to be trimmed and trained to remain on their trellises, which looked badly weathered.
Bryce approached, followed by Prill, whose dark eyebrows couldn’t be lifted any higher with her astonishment. Prill gasped, “Ela, how are we to manage all this?”
“A bit at a time?” Ela guessed.
Bryce’s thin, tanned face glowed with enthusiasm as he addressed Kien. “My lord, now that revenues have been restored to the fief, we might plan repairs. The buildings themselves are solid, but the embellishments need refurbishing.”
“Wasn’t Aeyrievale in control of its own revenues?” Ela demanded.
Sobering, Bryce shook his head. “No, lady. All our profits were taken by the court and divided among several Atean lords. But their abuses will end now that your husband has taken control of his lands.”
Ela winced. “That can’t make the Atean lords happy.”
“It hasn’t,” Bryce admitted. “Yet, if they quarrel, Lord Aeyrievale can afford to hire an army to fight them off.”
Kien grinned. Ela winced. Enemy-lords and hostile locals. Not reassuring. Infinite, help Kien! Particularly if she didn’t return from her forthcoming mission. Kien swooped an arm around Ela. “Let’s see to the destroyers, then explore the place!”
Helpful, Bryce nodded toward a large lower building with a particularly wide enclosed terrace. “I’ve ordered a small mountain of hay to the stables. Your apartments are in the uppermost rooms in the building above us—all unlocked.” He removed a broad ring of keys from his belt and offered them to Ela. “Enjoy your new residence, lady.”
“Thank you.” Ela accepted the keys. With a sidelong look at Prill, who was watching Bryce, Ela announced, “Matron Prill, you’ll accompany us, please.”
Kien swung Ela aside, hissing, “Surely we’re not being chaperoned in our own home!”
“Not at all,” she whispered, loving his nearness. “I simply want to be sure those two are kept properly away from each other.”
“Not a problem.” Kien looked around at the imposing buildings. “I must have a few barred cells or secured dungeons somewhere in these piles of stonework.”
“Kien!”
“Fine! I was only half . . . well, mostly . . . serious.”
Moving softly to avoid waking Kien, Ela finished braiding her hair while admiring her sleeping husband’s own dark, shining hair—and his whiskers. Her mortal love. Oh, he was so handsome and delightful! How could she be so blessed?
Truly, Kien looked as if he belonged here, sleeping in the huge carved bed situated within this lordly, tapestry-hung room, which glowed in the morning light. Who would have ever thought, when they both chose to follow the Infinite, He would lead them to such a place? Even if Aeyrievale’s natives scoffed at them both.
Rueful, Ela tucked away her comb and stood, pulling her heavy woolen outer robe close as she looked around. Exceptional stone carvings graced the walls, and the tapestries were a bit faded, but she liked their wilderness patterns of trees, cliffs, and waterfalls. Probably scenes from various places around Aeyrievale. Lovely inspiration to explore today. Perhaps they’d spy aeryons and—
A brisk pounding on the bedchamber door startled Ela from her reverie and woke Kien from his sleep. As he sat up and blinked, Ela rushed to open the door.
A sturdy woman nodded, her freckled face pleasant, and pushed a linen-draped tray at Ela. “Here’s the mornin’ meal, lady, seein’s how yer late.” She turned away, adding, “Leave the tray where ya stand—I’ll fetch it later when I’ve strength to climb all th’ stairs again.”
By now Kien stood beside her in his wrinkled robe, sleepy-eyed but pleased. “Food!”
Ela carried the tray to a nearby table and set it down while Kien arranged their chairs.
The instant Ela whisked aside the cloth, and the inverted basket that served as the tray’s cover, a stench assailed her nostrils, making her lean away. “Ew!”
Kien grabbed a knife and poked at the scorched eggs and what looked like cubes of brown cheese. “I was afraid of this.”
“What?” Ela stared at the meal, certain she could bounce these eggs off a wall, if she’d been the sort of person who wasted food.
Kien grimaced and stabbed a brown cube. “It’s the local Bannulk cheese—a character test in a dish.”
Wary, Ela nudged a brown cube with her knife while quizzing her doleful husband. “Is it too salty? Sour? Bitter? Sharp?”
“Solidified bile. And we’re expected to like it. Therefore . . .” Kien picked up a cube, paused as if encouraging himself, then ate it. After swallowing, he said, “I dare you.”
She popped a cube into her mouth and chewed. Mistake! Ela almost spat out the stuff. “Ugh!” Bile was almost right. Vomit was exact. And she was supposed to like this? No doubt they’d face it at every meal. Infinite, protect me, please! Eyes watering, she swallowed. “How did you eat that cheese?”
“I’ve eaten worse.”
“Impossible!”
“Trust me, love, it’s true.” He grinned now, his handsome face alight with inspiration. “We could bury this in the garden.”
“The trees would die. Anyway, we’ll be forced to eat it often, I’m sure.” If they survived. Ela nudged Kien and braced herself. “Courage! The sooner we finish, the sooner we explore the valley and look for aeryons.”
Nose to nose with her, he said, “Ela, I love you.”
“After I eat this, Lord Aeyrievale, you’d best love me forever.”
“I do and I will.” He nudged her. “Let’s finish this bile and escape before the cook offers us second servings!”
They choked down their food, then donned warm outer tunics. While Ela tugged on her oldest short-boots, she asked, “Why do you suppose the locals dislike us? We’ve done nothing offensive that I can think of—apart from Flame’s bad judgment in selecting food.”
“I don’t know. However, I’m more than willing to console you.”
Ela laughed, backing away as he approached. “I’m sure you are, but save your kisses for later.” She retrieved the branch and hurried to the stout iron-bound door leading to the terrace. Kien swept past her, unbarred the door, then escorted her outside, grinning mischievously.
Kien caught his breath against the morning’s chill as they walked out onto the broad, stone-paved terrace balcony. Ela hurried to the stone balustrade and rested her elbows and the branch on the ornate stonework as she stared at the view. Looking away from his beguiling wife, Kien paused and stared, his delight fading. The entire valley lay before them in a vast panorama, bathed in golden dawnlight, verdant and spectacular. An amazing landscape. And his. He’d be responsible for everything in this valley—and for some distance beyond—until his death. Stunned, Kien stared from east to west, trying to absorb the realization.
Infinite? How can I possibly manage all this? Help me!
Just as his silent plea and prayer faded, Ela distracted him by skittering across the garden-like balcony and down a stone stairway tucked against the wall. Kien grinned and followed his wife’s delicate form. He was badly smitten. Besotted. Love-struck.
He caught up to Ela on a shadowed lower balcony, snaring her in his arms and kissing her before she could breathe a word of protest. Her lips, skin, and hair were so soft and deliciously sweet, and her lively spirit was simply refreshing. Beyond doubt, he was the most blessed man alive. I
f it weren’t for Ela, this exile would have driven him half mad. He couldn’t have endured. . . .
A man’s voice, harsh and complaining, lifted from the courtyard below—adjoining Bryce’s office chamber. “All well ’n good, Bryce, sure! So we’ve a new lord, but he’s a boy!”
What?
Boy? Kien straightened and turned as a woman’s voice chimed in, unmistakably bitter. “We’ve enough worries without rearin’ a pair of kids till they’re fit to protect Aeyrievale.”
Was this the reason he and Ela were so poorly received? Their supposed youthfulness and lack of experience? Kien released Ela, determined to confront the misled whiners and set them aright. Ela clung to Kien, locking her arms around his waist while shaking her head. Fine. He supposed Ela was right. It wouldn’t do to quarrel with the locals on their first full day in Aeyrievale. Besides, Bryce was hushing the infuriated pair, Naor and Mallissa Nones.
“Naor! Lissy, enough. Give them a chance—you don’t know who you’re speaking of.”
Lissy protested, her voice as disgusted as yesterday when Flame had dismantled her cottage roof. “They’re babies!”
“Hardly! Lord Aeyrievale has survived battlefields, taken down an assassin, endured a foreign prison, and he refused Istgard’s crown last year. Moreover, Lady Aeyrievale is the Infinite’s prophet!”
“She ain’t.” Naor hesitated. “That pretty little girl? Nah, I don’t believe it!”
“Believe it. She deserves your respect and so does Lord Aeyrievale. Moreover, he’s the same age as the king, and they’re friends. Now, take your money and stop complaining.”
As if needing further reason to argue, Naor said, “He seems nothin’ like the king! In all his years hikin’ these mountains, the king never behaved so grand—wearin’ fine clothes and ridin’ giant warhorses!”
Bryce snapped back, “Mind your tongue! He’s Aeyrievale’s lord, and I’m grateful! As for the king, I daresay you’d be amazed at how well he’s adapted to his royal place!”