by Val Roberts
"Goddess,” she muttered under her breath, wondering if she also would be presented with an array of forks, as had been the case at the few state dinners she'd been forced to attend.
"Vixen!” Maris greeted her with a wide smile that somehow reminded her of the conspicuously absent Blade without causing any emotional upset beyond the hysterical panic she was already holding at bay by sheer force of will. “Did you sleep well?"
"Mostly,” she allowed. “The wake-up call was a bit abrupt. Where do I find the food?"
"Someone will bring it if you will be seated,” Galen said. “I trust you are suffering no lingering ill effects from your wound?"
She had forgotten all about it. “If I am, I can't tell,” she said as she sat and draped a linen napkin over her lap before someone else could do it for her. “It's lost in all the aches from three solid days on horseback."
The five men sat back down and chuckled in appreciation. A plate appeared in front of her, and she looked up to thank the server, but stopped when she noticed he was wearing makeup. He grinned, winked at her, and moved on. She hardly remembered the rest of the meal, too puzzled by eyeliner on a monk.
At the appointed time, Hideo appeared at her shoulder then escorted her through a maze of hallways to an ornate set of double doors. “Please go in,” he said with a small bow. “He's expecting you."
She took a deep breath and walked through the door into what appeared to be an office, one wall made almost entirely of windows. But that wasn't what surprised her.
"Welcome to the Enclave, Prince Taryn.” A man stood from behind the desk and Taryn had to stop herself from gaping, because he was quite possibly the most beautiful human being she had ever seen, and he couldn't be any older than Blade was. Truthtesters were supposed to be some kind of mystics who could tell at a glance when someone was lying or even knew more than she thought she did. Wouldn't a skill like that take a very long time to acquire?
"And on behalf of my order, please accept my apology for the behavior of His Royal Highness Blademir."He looked distinctly troubled, which made her want to comfort him. And that irritated her, since Blade was the only person who might possibly have something to apologize for. “He's normally much less selfish than that."
Taryn sat down without being invited. “Really? How selfish is he normally?” He stared at her for several seconds, then his eyes crinkled at the corners. Yes, he was beautiful, but he wasn't Blade.
"About as selfish as you are,” he began as he walked around the large desk. “That is to say, not at all. I suppose it's my own fault, because I warned him not to seek you out last night, but I didn't tell him it was because it might taint your testimony regarding the Balsom attack.” He sat in the chair next to the one she had taken. “I'm Llamass."
"Hello, Truthtester Llamass. We didn't talk about the attack.” She leaned forward. “Aren't you a little young for this job?"
He smiled, and she knew the eye-crinkling came from mirth. In her experience, mystics were supposed to be serious. “You are exactly what I expected.” He crossed his legs under the robe and planted his elbows on the chair arms to tent his fingers. “Indeed, I think the poor thing never had a chance at all.” She waited, because he seemed to be talking more to himself. Then he fixed her eyes almost as penetrating as Blade's, even though they were a nice normal grey color. “Are you familiar with ‘The Legend of the Bastard King'?"
Taryn sat back in the chair, a little lost at the sudden change of subject. “Of course. Who isn't?"
"Ah, but the versions vary widely.” He gestured toward her. “Tell me the one you learned."
Taryn sighed. “In the darkest of the dark times, the bastard king arose from the mists of Tirnav and beat back the darkness and the waste for the hand of the warrior queen, though he had never seen the sun or the stars and knew only the light of the fire in his soul.” Certain parts of the old bedtime story had a disturbing resonance with the events of the last couple of days. She rubbed her palms unobtrusively down her thighs. “He united the warring lands and ensured peace and prosperity for a thousand years, signaling the end of the dark times and the return to the stars. Helicon still has a knighthood called the Order of Tirnav and they claim their royal line is descended from the bastard king."
Llamass nodded. “And did you know Blade's parents were never married?"
Taryn swallowed. “He didn't mention it."
"The interesting thing about legends and prophecies,” he went on with a slight smile, “is that they are fairly general, so that some might be able to say this is a modern re-enactment of the prophecy."
Taryn frowned. “There's no prophecy. It's just a story for children."
"Ah, but you haven't read the version in the Sanctuary archives,” Llamass said quietly. “I took the liberty of re-reading it last night. There was a prophecy, spoken by the high priestess of Doneghin. The waste was a sexually transmitted disease that killed in a matter of weeks, and it was decimating the population everywhere but an isolated island in the middle of the Sea of Leagues that was continually shrouded in fog. Of course, no such place exists now. Modern Tirnav is known for its warm, sunny climate and its vineyards that thrive in the volcanic soil."
Taryn fought not to fidget. “What does that have to do with me?"
"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything.” Again he flashed that enigmatic smile. “It also contains the rather adult tidbit that the bastard king only took on the challenge of ruling after learning the warrior queen was carrying his child.” He lifted one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Not quite the same, but last night was the new moon, wasn't it?"
Taryn realized she was fingering her scar again and forced her hand back to her lap. “Obviously."
"Another eerily similar parallel, though I think Blade started fighting as soon as you met.” He leaned to one side and supported his head on an index finger. “Tell me about your scar."
Her fingers covered it protectively. “M-my scar? Why?"
"I'm not entirely certain,” he said, sounding calm, “but scars are usually reminders of the events that caused them, and you have touched that particular scar three times since you entered this room. It must have a deep personal significance."
"My sister tried to kill me and I didn't dodge quite fast enough,” she said. “So I have a scar.” She dropped her hand again and shrugged. “No big deal. We were almost sixteen and we were fighting, and she lost her temper."
"And how long was it after that incident with your identical twin that you abdicated?” That question actually made her jump.
"Technically, I've never abdicated.” Technically. Mother had asked if she wanted to be safe from Talyn, and she had nodded through the pain, desperately trying not to cry so there wouldn't be tears burning in the raw flesh on top of everything else. And the next day, the machine had burned away her royal mark, set just above her left ankle when she was little more than a baby.
"Silean allowed a crown heir to go into the military?” Llamass shook his head. “You should know better, my dear, than to prevaricate in front of a creature with no illusions.” He leaned forward. “Talyn deliberately tried to kill you. You fought as hard as you could, but it wasn't enough, and a Silvergard officer saved you. An older woman, I'd say, someone you could look up to, someone you could trust. What happened to her?"
"She was dismissed from the service.” She couldn't meet his eyes, so she folded her hands and looked at them.
"So, you couldn't trust your sister, you couldn't trust your mother, and a Silvergard had possessed the reflexes you lacked and had protected you. You entered the Silvergard."
Her head came up. “It wasn't that simple.” He wanted to know, then by the goddess, she would tell him. “I had to work damned hard to get in, and then I had to prove myself a dozen times over before they would even consider me for an officer. I spent a year shoveling crap in a backwater stable before I was allowed to carry a piece of paper from one room to another."
"And what became of your self
-defense skills during this period?” he asked, unperturbed.
Taryn swallowed. “I learned to fight.” She closed her eyes. “I learned to kill."
"According to my resources, you have consistently out-fought every member of Blade's personal guard, and you saved Viscount Marison von Stassos from an ambush.” Her eyes popped open. Maris had a title? But he was so young. “Apparently, you don't learn things by halves.” Llamass allowed himself a small smile. “I have not yet spoken with his father, but I'm sure Northshield is likewise grateful for his son's lucky escape."
"Northshield?” There was a duchy called Northshield that was bigger than Zona. She swallowed again, harder than she had the first time. “Maris is the heir to Northshield?"
"No, Lavindar is Galen's heir.” Taryn felt her mouth drop open. “Maris is her little brother.” Maris, who had babbled and beamed at her while higher than a kite, had sighed every time she touched his forehead while he waited for the tiny pills to take away the pain of a skewered femur. And Galen had calmly pulled the bolt from his leg and bound the wound. But he had known Maris's reaction to their medicine. Then the truly astounding thing filtered through.
"The heir to Northshield is a woman?” Bariani would allow a woman that much power?
"Actually, the heir to Northshield is a married couple."
Unable to stop herself, Taryn sneered.
"They've been married for seven years,” he finished.
The sneer faded. “How long?” she asked, unable to credit that length of time.
"Seven years, Llamass repeated, “though they were together for at least two years before Jamius could gather the courage to ask if she wanted to make it permanent. And they show every sign of still loving each other ferociously. The lack of permanent pair-bonding among Zonans is one of the things I find the most ... curious in your culture, being as it is matrilineal."
Okay, now this conversation was veering way off course. “I thought Blade wanted you to know what happened in Balsom."
"I do. Tell me.” So she told him, wiping her clammy palms on her thighs when she got to the part where she had recognized Mychell. He didn't move, didn't interrupt, he barely even blinked.
"And why did you help the surviving Bariani to escape?” he said when she ran out of words.
"Because.” She frowned, trying to think of how to put it into words. “It was my responsibility get them out of danger. They came—went—I don't know, ended up there because they wanted to maintain diplomatic contact, not because they wanted to kill Zonans.” She met his gaze as grimly as she could. “At least I wouldn't send my heir with less than a dozen outriders to a covert attack."
"So leaving them to die wasn't...?"
"Right.” Yet Bariani were always considered enemies, until proven otherwise. “Honorable,” she amended. He leaned his cheek on his finger and waited. “Fair?” she finally came up with.
Llamass nodded. “How have you been treated by this group of Bariani?"
"What do you mean?"
"Have you at any time felt like, oh—” he waved a hand in the air, “—a decorative appendage—not appreciated for your skills?"
"Oh. No. They all pretty much treat me as an equal. Even Blade.” Even the master of them all saw her as his equal. His life partner. She shivered, but not from fear, or from anger. With the distance of the next morning, she could see why he had kept his secrets until he was sure of her and sure of their surroundings. It made a lot of sense. Except he hadn't been really sure of her, even when they had drifted off to sleep tangled together on the narrow bed. She needed to talk to him. She really did, because there were things he needed to know.
"How do you think the bonding formed?” Llamass asked. “Was it because you finally found someone who would stand by you when it wasn't a politically favorable thing to do?"
"B-bonding? But I thought you...” Her voice trailed off, because she wasn't exactly sure what she thought.
"You are already bonded, Taryn Penthes von Stassos. I merely record the fact in front of unimpeachable witnesses.” He smiled faintly. “It is a moment I savor, because I was beginning to think it would never happen. Blademir is a difficult man to love.” He sighed.
A number of things clicked into place. They believe women have no use for them. Hideo had ignored her naked body. The server. “How long have you known him?” she asked, her voice sharp.
Llamass visibly composed himself. “As long as I can remember."
"And how long have you been in love with him?” She leaned forward as she asked it, waiting for him to admit what she was already certain of. It didn't mean a great deal in the larger scheme of things, because the Goddess made room for all people in Heaven, but by the Goddess she was having the truth out of someone before it went too far.
He laughed softly, but his eyes did not crinkle. “Very good,” he said without expression. “To answer your unspoken question, all truthtesters are of the third gender."
"What about the spoken question?"
"As soon as I was old enough to understand such things.” He made a throwing-away gesture, as if it didn't matter. “I don't believe he knows, however, or he would be mortified.” Then he fixed her with a gaze nearly as penetrating as Blade's. “I would prefer that he never know, because it would cause a rift with someone he considers his oldest friend."
"I see.” She sat back and thought for a moment. She was done here. She had told Llamass what had happened and he hadn't said a word. Then he had pronounced her bonded without even asking her opinion. Blade must have been right about Sanctuarian beliefs, because she certainly had no more use for any of this at the moment. “You have my version of the events. Please convey to His Royal Highness my compliments, and my goodbyes.” She stood. “I think I've seen all of Barian I care to see."
Llamass watched her through lowered lashes. “He won't like this,” he said quietly. “Do you really want to be dragged into Krystale Palace kicking and screaming?"
"I won't be dragged anywhere, either by a man who lies to get what he wants or by someone who has given up what he wants.” She turned to leave, but was stopped by his voice.
"What about what you want? When do you get that, Prince Taryn?"
"Starting right now.” She didn't say it with venom, because Llamass wasn't the one who had earned her venom. She even walked out without slamming the door behind her. There was no telling where Blade might be, though, so she ran through the corridors until she got to the iron-bound door that blocked the force-field containing the penance-cellblock. The monk present since Blade had been dragged away nodded and closed the door behind her with a clang as the hum came back to life. This time, though, it was more reassuring than menacing.
Taryn let out a breath she hadn't quite been holding when she was safely locked away from the rest of the Enclave, then headed to the cell they had opened for her use. It was exactly as she had left it, clothing neatly packed away, her sword on top of the pack, and bedclothes scattered all over the room. Even Blade's scent was still there, a stark reminder of what had happened to her when she let him get too close. She pulled on her coat without buttoning it, gathered up her pack and sword along with the wonderful book-reader that Dorcan had claimed contained the text of an entire library, and stalked down the central hallway on her way to the unguarded, unlocked, un-force shielded door to the outside.
When she was standing on moss instead of slate tiles, she looked around for a path and felt the terror of absolute freedom for the first time. It almost made her dizzy, but she forced it down and set off on a path that looked as if it went into the Jags instead of back down toward the center of Barian, civilization, and His Royal Highness, Blademir von Stassos. The bastard who would be king.
She had no idea where she was going, other than away. She had no food or water with her, and no knowledge of the terrain, which became almost painfully evident when she was trotting down a slope in the midst of thick trees and nearly trotted off the edge of a sudden cliff. But she was away from th
e Bariani and finally had the sort of privacy she needed to think of what she was going to do with her life now that she was no longer a Bariani slave. Or a Zonan slave, for that matter.
* * * *
Blade's hands tightened around the balcony railing until he felt the cool metal cutting into his palms as he remembered watching the solitary figure emerge from the penitents’ entrance. His vision blurred and his throat had tightened down so much that each breath was an aching torture. The door that had remained locked tight for the last three hours opened behind him, but his eyes were locked on Taryn, still barely visible on the trail leading back into the Jags. Taryn was leaving him, and she hadn't even looked back. His mother all over again, but this time he didn't have the strength of childhood innocence to keep going.
"She'll be back,” Llamass said from just behind him, moving as silently as he ever had. Blade felt a hand on his shoulder and stiffened, then turned to shrug it off. He knew it hurt Llamass when he refused the comfort, but he didn't care. With a monumental effort of will, he swallowed and forced a deep breath.
"No, she won't be back.” He turned away and saw Galen standing in the doorway across the room, his face carefully neutral but compassion in his eyes. “If you knew her, you would know she doesn't second-guess her decisions. And that is an absolute truth.” He couldn't face Galen either, so he took refuge in anger. “What did you tell her, Llamass? This morning when your goons dragged me away from her, she was happy. Now...” He looked over the railing one last time at the tiny figure bent beneath the pack, trudging uphill and about to plunge into the trees. “Now she's not happy. I should kill you for that."
Llamass inhaled more loudly than was strictly necessary. Yes, he was serious about the threat, but it would be the last thing he would ever do, because killing a truthtester, even one who had betrayed him on such a deep level, was a capital crime.