Witch Of Rhostshyl s-3

by J F Rivkin

  “That, above all, shows her good sense,” said Nyctasia drily. “Why have I not been told of this?”

  “A fortnight ago, we first had certain news of your return-it is you Rehal fears,” said Lady Elissa. Someone tried to silence her, but she continued in a furious whisper. “Rehal knows that the child will threaten your power one day, and you know it as well.”

  Nyctasia looked around the table at the faces of her kin, but most would not meet her eyes. “Oho,” she said softly, “and so you have waited to know my wishes? I’m to be a child-killer now…! Perhaps I could sacrifice young Leirven to demons, and so achieve two ends at once. Really, you begin to believe your own fancies about me. Why, if anyone’s to murder the boy, look to ’Kasten here. He would stand to inherit Emeryc’s title if Leirven were removed from the succession.”

  Erikasten turned on her with an oath. “You think that I’d-”

  “Have you not thought the same of me?” said Nyctasia coldly. She turned to Tiambria. “But if I were to kill someone, surely it would be you, sister. In only a few years Lehannie’s title will come to you, and you’ll be in a position to challenge my authority. You pose a much more immediate threat to me than Emeryc’s heir does.”

  “I have thought upon that,” Tiambria said evenly.

  Nyctasia suddenly laughed. “Then you have wronged me, upon my honor. I have other plans for you-not death, but something you’ll like far less.” Though she sounded amused, Corson did not think she was joking. “And I have plans for my niece and nephew as well,” she continued, addressing all of them, but looking at Lady Elissa. “Plans which I shall discuss first with their mother.” She stood.

  “I must go to her at once and attempt to reassure her. She is not to be kept under guard, nor is her son to be forfeit to my ambition. I trust that that is now understood.” She made a formal bow to the company, “Friends, family, a good appetite to all.”

  Corson followed a pace behind her until they were out of sight and hearing of the rest, then fell into step beside her. “Nyc, I thought you had only the one sister,” she said, puzzled.

  “Yes, Rehal is my brother’s widow, my sister by marriage.”

  “Oh. Well, why hasn’t she the right to take her children where she likes?”

  Nyctasia sighed. “She has no rights in this household, Corson. She’s a commoner, you see. She was only a laborer on one of our estates before Emeryc took a fancy to her.”

  “Do you mean to say that a brother of yours married a peasant woman!”

  “He insisted upon it, in order to legitimize his children by her. She’d been his mistress for some years, but when she bore him a son who could succeed to his title, he wanted to make the boy his heir by law.”

  “And your family let him?”

  “On the contrary, they forbade it. But Emeryc was of age, and willful, as we all are. Mhairestri gave way when she saw how determined he was, lest she lose her influence over him by thwarting him in this. And she wanted the children too. We Edonaris aren’t as prolific as we once were-folk say that if we didn’t bear twins so often, our enemies would soon outnumber us. Mhairestri worries that the dynasty will come to an end within a few generations. She didn’t want Rehal, of course, but she reasoned that a mere farm woman could be easily set aside when the time came to establish an advantageous marriage-alliance for Emeryc. It would have been different if he’d sought to make an unsuitable match with a girl of good family, whose kin could demand that her rights be respected…”

  Nyctasia’s voice grew bitter, and Corson knew that she was thinking of her own bond with Erystalben ar’n Shiastred, a bond her family had succeeded in breaking.

  “Rehal didn’t want the marriage either,” Nyctasia continued, “She’s no fool-she knew she’d never be accepted at court. But she agreed for her children’s sake, so that they could be raised as nobles.”

  She fell silent as they approached the guarded passage to the widow Rehal’s chambers, and Corson dropped behind her again, the patient, impassive bodyguard.

  Dismissing the sentry, Nyctasia unlocked the door and pushed it open herself.

  Rehal was coaxing her little boy to eat his dinner, but at the sight of Nyctasia and Corson she gasped and caught the child up in her arms-“Deirdras, go into the other room, quickly,” she whispered to the older child, a girl of perhaps nine years, but her daughter made no move to obey her. Quietly setting down her spoon, she only sat and glared at Nyctasia as if daring her to come farther into the room. Her little brother, alarmed by his mother’s fear, began to whimper and wriggle.

  “My lady, have mercy,” pleaded Rehal. “They’re only children! I’ll take them away-they will forget that they are Edonaris.” Though she spoke to Nyctasia, she stared in terror at Corson, sure that she was there to carry out the sentence of death.

  “Corson, wait for me outside,” Nyctasia said calmly. “You alarm the Lady Rehal to no purpose. I shan’t need you.” Corson bowed and withdrew.

  Nyctasia shook her head in gentle reproof. “Rehal, sister, you should know me better. I mean no harm to you or your children. You are under my protection here.”

  Still clutching her son, Rehal sank to her knees, and Grey-mantle-taking this for an invitation-joined them, wagging his tail and snuffling curiously at Leirven. “Don’t be afraid, he won’t bite the boy,” said Nyctasia, smiling, “and neither shall I, you’ll find.”

  Leirven, having forgotten his fright, was trying to escape his mother’s arms and embrace Grey mantle. “Want to play,” he insisted, crowing with delight as the dog licked his face thoroughly, washing off a good deal of the dinner which he had managed to smear over himself.

  Nyctasia approached Rehal, offering her hand, to help her to her feet. “I’ve told you before, my dear, that you’re not to kneel to me.”

  But at this, the other child suddenly shrieked, “Liar! Don’t touch him! Don’t touch my brother, or I’ll kill you!” She seized one of the table knives and threw herself between Nyctasia and the others, holding the knife high, ready to attack.

  Nyctasia fell back a pace. “Well! I see I dismissed my bodyguard too soon,” she said mildly.

  “Deirdras, stop that!” cried Rehal. “The Lady Nyctasia will help us-”

  “You don’t understand. Mother. You’re not an Edonaris,” said the child scornfully, “She’s come to kill Raven, and me too. I know all about her.”

  “Don’t speak to your mother in that way,” Nyctasia reprimanded her, “and don’t speak of me in that way either, bratling. You know nothing. Why should I kill Leirven? I’d only have Erikasten to deal with then-and he’ll come of age much sooner than your brother.”

  “’Kasten’s weak,” Deirdras said promptly. “You think you’ll be able to control him.”

  Nyctasia was taken aback. “I see…! And why should I kill you, then? You’re not important.”

  As if repeating a lesson, Deirdras responded, “Because you know I’d avenge my brother. And you’re afraid of me-if you died, I’d be Rhaicime!”

  “Sweet vahn, the child is a true Edonaris,” sighed Nyctasia. “Come, we’ll declare a truce, shall we? Lay down your arms and I shall do the same.” She loosed her sword-belt and let her weapons slide from it to the floor, but Deirdras only gripped her knife tighter as Nyctasia took a step toward her.

  “Very well,” said Nyctasia, “look to your guard, then.” As she spoke, she flicked the belt toward the girl’s face.

  Startled, Deirdras struck out wildly, and Nyctasia seized her by the wrist, forcing the knife from her hand. “Let me go!” she shouted, outraged at the trick, but Nyctasia picked her up and kissed her, in spite of her struggles.

  “This is no way to greet your aunt,” she laughed, holding her close. “I swear I don’t want to kill you, Derry, but I might give you a good beating if you don’t mend your manners in the future. A lady is always respectful to her elders.” She set the girl on her feet again, holding her firmly by the shoulders. “And you don’t know how to wield a k
nife, either. Always hold it low and strike upward.

  I’ll teach you one day.”

  Deirdras tried to break free, beating at her with small, fierce fists. “You hate me,” she shrilled. “You were my father’s enemy, and you’re my enemy-Mhairestri told me-”

  Nyctasia’s face darkened. “I thought as much. The matriarch has taught you well.

  You’ve learned to hate the Teiryn, haven’t you? And to fear me, and to disdain your mother. Hate and bitterness and pride are all that Mhairestri has learned in her long life, and all that she has to teach.” She gripped Deirdras more tightly. “Do you want a life like that for yourself, child? Do you want to be like her? Do you?”

  Deirdras stared at her, wide-eyed, but to such a question as this she had no answer ready. Her chin began to tremble, and she seemed to grow limp in Nyctasia’s grasp.

  “I’m sorry,” Nyctasia said gently. “I’m not angry with you. You’re brave and strong, Derry, and I’m proud of you. I shall rely on you to protect your family, remember.” She let the girl go, and Deirdras ran to her mother’s lap, sobbing in confusion.

  Rehal gathered both children to her, and led them back to the table. “Finish your dinner now,” she said, “and let me talk to Her Ladyship. Deirdras, watch your brother.”

  Deirdras began to eat her soup slowly, watching her aunt more than her brother.

  Leirven was too excited to eat, but he enjoyed feeding most of his dinner to Greymantle.

  Nyctasia dropped onto a couch and gestured for Rehal to join her. “I remember now,” she said, taking Rehal’s hand, “I never could persuade you to address me by name. Rehal, it was Mhairestri who told you I’d have the children killed, was it not?”

  Rehal dropped her eyes, “My lady… Nyctasia… I…”

  “And warned you not to say so, of course. She saw to it that you were frightened enough to flee, then had you watched and caught when you fled. Oh yes, you may be sure that your capture was her doing. She only needed some such reason to convince the others that the children shouldn’t be left to your care. She has no intention of letting them forget that they are Edonaris, I assure you.”

  The bewildered Rehal had no way of knowing whom to trust. Her husband had been of the matriarch’s faction, but she knew that Mhairestri had opposed the marriage-while Nyctasia had been one of the few people at court to show her much kindness. Most had simply taken no notice of her and she had thought to continue being safely ignored, but after Emeryc’s death she had learned that she had enemies. She was not afraid for herself, but how could she possibly protect her children? “We should never have come here,” she said helplessly. “Please-I only want to take them away. Let us go.”

  “But that is just what I want you to do, my dear. There is danger for them here-not from me or my followers, but from the enemies of the Edonaris. There are still those at large who will seek to destroy them because they are of Edonaris blood, and will one day be among the rightful rulers of Rhostshyl.

  Until there is true reconciliation in the city, I want the children kept out of harm’s way. You’re to take them into the Midlands, to an estate in the valley, where I have friends who’ll make you welcome.” She rose and began to pace back and forth, laying her plans. “It will be best if you tell no one of this, lest you be followed, but I’ll send my most trusted people to safeguard you on the way. Will you do this, Rehal?”

  For all that Rehal knew, Nyctasia might be sending them to their deaths, but she had no choice save to obey, and both women knew it. “If you think it best, Rhaicime.”

  “I would do the same if they were my own,” Nyctasia said seriously. “I know you mistrust me, and the vahn knows I cannot blame you, but think on this, Rehal

  … You and your children are in my power. If I wished them harm, I could just give my orders and have done with it-there is no one to stop me. Why then should I take the trouble to tell you lies? I’ve no need to deceive you, and nothing to gain by it, do you see? Their death is no part of my design. They are vital to my plans.” She broke off to look over at Deirdras, who was staring solemnly at her over a cup of milk. “Their lives are as precious to me as if they were in truth my own children. I care only for the future of this city, and they are the future of this House. I need them. Why, Deirdras is my heir.”

  Rehal wanted desperately to believe her. Much of what Nyctasia said made sense, but she ventured to ask a question, feeling that she had to know the worst. “You may have children yourself one day, my lady-what then?”

  Nyctasia had made sacrifices of which she rarely spoke. Now she said only, “You forget that I’m a witch, Rehal. My brother’s daughter will inherit the Rhaicimate from me.” She retrieved her sword and dagger, and put them on, then kissed Rehal and said, “I’ll leave you now. You are not under guard, but if you wish to leave the palace, take an escort with you, for the vahn’s sake. The city’s not safe, believe me.”

  She called to Greymantle, and Leirven clambered down from his stool and followed, dismayed at the prospect of losing his new friend. “Doggie,” he explained earnestly to his mother and the lady with the shiny gold chain in her hair, “he likes him.”

  “He means that the dog likes him,” Deirdras translated shyly. She stood a little to one side, now, watching Nyctasia warily lest she should suddenly decide to stab Leirven. When Nyctasia picked him up, she started forward, alarmed, but the bloodthirsty Rhaicime only set her little brother astride the great dog, much to the boy’s delight.

  Nyctasia winked at Deirdras. “You seem quite agreeable when you’re not threatening one with cutlery,” she remarked, then asked Leirven, “Would you like to live in the country, and learn to swim, and have a whelp of your own?”

  The child considered this seriously. “Big one?” he asked hopefully.

  “The pick of the litter,” said Nyctasia.

  Leirven gave a yell and kicked his heels into Greymantle’s sides. “Derdis, look at me,” he demanded. Greymantle, who was a patient animal, and used to children, simply settled back on his haunches and let his rider slide to the floor.

  Deirdras caught him.

  “I wish I could keep them with me,” Nyctasia said to Rehal, her voice filled with longing. “Not long ago, I asked myself why I had come back to this vahn-forsaken city, but when I look upon them, I remember.” She knelt and kissed Leirven. “Goodnight, little one. Time you were abed.”

  Deirdras submitted stiffly to her embrace. “Daughter,” said Nyctasia, “this family has another matriarch, and you shall meet her soon, if all goes well.

  Learn what you can from her.” She kissed Deirdras quickly and hurried away.

  Nyctasia always claimed in later years that she had known, when she sent her brother’s widow to the Edonaris of Vale, that she was sending them a bride for Raphistain. But if she knew, she said nothing about it at the time.

  23

  “unbind him!” nyctasia ordered curtly. “Do you think I cannot defend myself against an unarmed youth? Leave us.” The guards obeyed, and Corson too retired, at a nod from Nyctasia.

  Lord Jehamias ar’n Teiryn, son of Rhavor ar’n Teiryn, and principal heir of the House of Teiryn, looked around him uncertainly, trying to decide what to do. He ought to attack the Rhaicime, of course, but she could recall her guards in an instant, and she herself was armed with a sword. He could not possibly accomplish anything, except perhaps his own death. Still, he would undoubtedly be killed before long, so perhaps he should try to die heroically…

  Nyctasia was sitting at the window, watching him closely. “Don’t be a fool,” she advised him. “Sit down.”

  Jehamias sat. He might as well hear what she had to say, though he thought he knew what to expect. If it were merely a matter of his execution, as an enemy of the ruling house, he would not have been brought before the Rhaicime. She did not need to see him to arrange that. It could only be information that she wanted from him, but though he might not be a hero, he was not a traitor either.

  When she dis
covered that he wouldn’t willingly tell her what she wished to know, she’d surely order other means to be employed. Jehamias sometimes thought that he’d be able to stand up to torture, and at other times he was sure that he couldn’t. He’d had more than enough time to think over such things as he sat in his small stone cell and waited to learn what the Edonaris would do with him.

  Now, at last, he was about to find out.

  It seemed to him a long time before Nyctasia spoke again, and then she said only, “You favor your father, Jehame.”

  Stung at her use of the familiar form of his name, he said angrily, “It ill becomes the victor to taunt the vanquished. I expected better, even from an Edonaris.” He was appalled, at his own boldness, but then what had he to lose?

  Lady Nyctasia looked genuinely surprised. “What do you-oh, I see-but I didn’t mean to mock you, upon my word. I took the liberty of addressing you thus because I was a friend of your father’s. But of course you didn’t know that.”

  “They say you killed my father.”

  Nyctasia sighed. “And do you believe that?” she asked with weary disgust.

  “I’ve never known what to believe about you,” Jehamias said carefully. “My father always spoke well of you himself, but he was the only one who did. The others all claimed that you’d cursed him-except for my father’s servant-boy, Randal. He’d sworn to have vengeance on you and when he disappeared they said you’d killed him too.” He shook his head in confusion. “But then he came back and told people that you were innocent after all, or so I heard. Of course he was sent away in disgrace. I was never allowed to listen to his story.”

  “He was devoted to your father. He tried quite sincerely to kill me, I assure you-he just wasn’t very good at that sort of thing. But there were several professional murderers after my blood at that time, and they fared no better, so perhaps it wasn’t his fault.”