"And now, dear people, I urge you to go forth and celebrate our honored hero's return home!" the prince cried, his voice ringing out over the noise. "Celebrate freedom!"
He stepped back again and met Hawk's eyes. "You will join us, of course, Commander Hawk," he said. Again, it was not a request. Hawk didn't bother to nod acquiescence as Razem went to Ayowir and began speaking with her.
"I would not have had you back," Burojan said. He had come close without Hawk's noticing it. Hawk chastised himself; he could be complacent no longer. "My brother died at Dinnsan, and it was not your fault or the prince's, but I would not have had this trade." The man's gold-flecked eyes reminded Hawk that he was--as Venra had been--the king's first cousin. It had been easy to forget, with Venra; he'd been a superb commander and easy-going, never one to stand on rank. Hawk feared this Lord Burojan was not like Venra.
"I am grieved to learn of Lord Venra's death," Hawk said. He choked on the words, and perhaps the man read the sincerity in him, for the chilling hatred in his eyes lessened somewhat.
"So was I. But grief does not bring back the dead." He gave Hawk a hard smile. "Nor does a prisoner exchange make peace."
Hawk bowed his head. Could he and this man ever be friends? Venra had admired his brother.
Prince Razem looked over his shoulder. "Arisanat, Commander Hawk. Come. We have much to discuss."
Chapter 6
Razem had spent weeks thinking of little else besides getting Jacin Hawk in his custody and surrendering the Deranged Duke. He had written and rewritten the florid speech he'd given to the people of Salishok. He had jotted down a list of questions to ask the man about the Strid and his treatment, as well as more mundane questions about his life before the war and his desires now that he was free. He had read the file on Hawk, such as it was, but that told him nothing about who the man actually was.
Of course, before he managed all of that, he had to actually offload the duke. Commander Ayowir--who had turned out to be a woman, and what a shock that was--had brought a full complement of healers with her, prepared for whatever condition the duke might be in. Razem had agreed to accompany her to the duke's chambers, though he had to summon Baron Arkad's chamberlain to lead the way. In the meantime, he gave orders for Hawk to be given refreshments and shown to the sitting room that separated his chambers from Razem's.
The duke was sitting up in bed when they arrived at his room, which was a distinct relief. Razem had been more than half afraid the duke would up and die on him before the Strid officially took custody, and he could only imagine the horror of war that would follow that particular tragedy. But the duke looked as hale as he ever did these days, his pale skin almost gray and looking like wrinkled onion skin, it hung so loosely around his face. His blue eyes were keen, though, and he turned them to his visitors the moment they entered.
"Ah, Prince Razem. What new torture do you have in store for me today?" the duke asked. Razem swore mentally as he felt Ayowir tense beside him. She relaxed at the duke's next words, though. "Removing alcohol from my diet, perhaps? Or do you plan to have someone clean my bedsores while we chat?"
"Duke Anyet," Commander Ayowir said, going to both knees in front of him. Razem tried to hide his surprise. That was more respect than any duke should command.
"Ah. My apologies. I did not realize Razem had--" The duke broke off and stared at her. His eyes wrinkled at the corners and his lips trembled. "Elin, I think, isn't it? Sasha's girl Elin Ayowir."
Ayowir's voice was even. "Yes, Uncle. I was given the honor of conveying you home."
"Am I no longer in disgrace, then?" the duke asked dryly. "I was under the impression that Harkai was displeased with me."
"He was displeased with you and his son both, Uncle. But it is clear that the gods have punished you far more harshly than the king would have." Ayowir spoke briskly, though both of her hands closed around the duke's thin, age-spotted one on the coverlet. "My mother died two years ago. She never gave up hoping to see you return."
The duke coughed so harshly it shook his entire frame. He lifted his free hand to cover his mouth. Razem didn't miss the fact that the palm was red as he lowered it. He thought, however, that Ayowir hadn't noticed. Strangely, he found himself hoping she hadn't. And why should he give a damn about this Strid soldier who spoke so familiarly to a man who had massacred women and children?
Angry with himself, Razem turned away. He would let them continue their reunion in private.
"Prince Razem." The duke's voice was rough and wet, as if the coughing had torn his throat.
Razem hesitated for a moment and then turned.
"I would have you hear this from me. Once only, but I feel I may say it, as I shall likely not live to see the consequences." Ayowir was staring up at her uncle in confusion. Razem jerked his chin in an upward nod, watching the duke's face.
Duke Anyet looked down at his niece long enough to cup her cheek in his palm. Then he turned his gaze back to meet Razem's. "I was wrong. I served as the tool of Anderlin's hatred. I knew there was no honor in killing civilians and infants. But I mistakenly allowed myself to believe that any disgrace would fall solely on the head of the one who ordered the atrocity." His thin lips curved in a humorless smile. "I failed to recognize that I, not Anderlin, was the one who ordered that atrocity. For that, Prince Razem, I am most heartily sorry."
Razem stared at the man. He couldn't forgive him. There was no way under the sun that he could forgive the Deranged Duke for his murderous rampage. But he could at least appreciate the apology. It would have little effect here, spoken in private with only the two of them to witness it. The duke would certainly die before word got out, and no one would believe Razem if he and a Strid commander were the only living witnesses. Ayowir would likely deny it, anyway. But the fact remained that the Deranged Duke had recanted his position. He had apologized for the massacre.
It meant very little in light of the hundreds of lives that could never be returned.
But to Razem, it was a balm of sorts. He could not forgive the man, but he could at least rest easy knowing they were not sending the duke home so he could share all of his strategy with others.
Razem nodded shortly. Then, with nothing further to say, he turned and walked out of the duke's rooms. He waved a hand at the head of the guards standing outside. They knew the duke was to be handed over to the Strid. They would handle the details from here.
***
Of course Razem could have no peace to puzzle out the meaning of that last encounter with the duke. He still had Jacin Hawk to deal with. And from the way the man had handled today's ceremony, Razem knew he wouldn't enjoy most of what the prince had to tell him.
His first impression of The Hawk was of a shadow. The man didn't seem to want to be in front of a crowd. He didn't seem to enjoy the celebratory atmosphere. He certainly was only a shadow of his former self. Razem hadn't known him even to speak to, but he had seen him in the palace from time to time before his capture. He would not have recognized this lean, underweight man who favored his left leg ever-so-slightly as the vaunted military commander who had been in the habit of striding everywhere he went, cloak streaming out behind him, head held high and gaze sharp.
And having to catch the man after his speech had certainly been unexpected. Razem went through his mental list of questions and added a few to the list while subtracting a few others. Somehow he didn't think asking The Hawk about Strid culture was as important as making sure the Strid hadn't starved or beaten him--and making sure of that fact before they left the palace and escaped Razem's vengeance, if they had.
He shoved open the door to the large sitting room where he had directed The Hawk and General Kho to wait. Kho was standing by a table against one wall, picking over a selection of fruits, meats, and cheeses. The Hawk was sitting on a low couch against the opposite wall. His head was back, his eyes closed. He had his fingers curled around a wine goblet so tightly his knuckles were white. Kho glanced over at Razem when the prince wal
ked in. The Hawk jerked upright, wine slopping over the edge of the goblet. A moment later he was on his feet, his gaze hooded and watchful.
This was a man who had been exposed to too much, Razem thought. He didn't know what he meant by it, but the thought prompted in him a mixture of sympathy and regret that made it difficult to speak.
"Lord-General Kho, Commander Hawk," he said, nodding. "Be at ease. Hawk, have you eaten?"
"The commander will not eat," Kho said, biting off each word. "It seems our good Tamnese food is too rich for him now."
Razem saw Hawk's shoulders slump for a moment before the man straightened and said, "I apologize, your highness. My diet has consisted of a great deal of bland grains and cheese, with the occasional goat or chicken. I fear I shall have to reacquaint myself with our better range of spices."
The man seemed to think before each sentence. His words came out with a faint lilt, not quite an accent. Something in the thoughtful crease between Hawk's eyebrows reminded Razem that the man had probably spoken nothing but Strid for the past six years. Razem's own command of the language was barely passable, but many of the Kreyden officers spoke it fluently, and Hawk's file said he was a half-blood. He might have grown up speaking both languages in equal amounts.
"Of course. I should have thought of it myself." Razem snapped his fingers for a servant. "Have the kitchen send up some rice and a mild flatbread." Before the servant could do more than bow, Razem added, "And send one of our healers."
"I thank you, your highness, but I am quite well." Hawk's voice was pleasant. Razem wondered what it would sound like raised in command on the battlefield. "I was not mistreated."
"Nevertheless, I should have had a healer waiting here to speak with you. Perhaps they will have some advice for readjusting to our cuisine." Razem smiled, hoping to put the man at ease and wishing Kho would relax, too. If nothing else, it would provide a good example for Hawk.
Razem turned to the table, where another servant was waiting with a plate filled with his favorite sharp cheese and spicy meat. Razem nodded over the selection and accepted a glass of wine. Then he went to sit on the couch nearest Hawk's.
"Sit, Commander Hawk. We shall be informal tonight. I think we have all had enough ceremony to last at least a week, have we not?" He tried a brilliant smile, which got him a faint one in response. It wasn't what Razem had been hoping for, but it would do for now.
"Again, I thank you, your highness." Hawk lowered himself to the couch more carefully than he had stood. He did not spill his wine.
"Perhaps we should also have a language tutor for the commander," Kho said. There was an edge to his voice. So he'd noticed Hawk's lilt as well. Razem wondered why it sat so ill with Kho. The man was usually so easy-going and slow to show his temper that his reaction made the prince even more curious than he would normally have been.
"I think that will not be necessary, Emran," Razem said, injecting a note of humor to his voice. He looked at Hawk. "So, Commander. Let me officially welcome you home."
Hawk gave him another faint smile. "Thank you, your highness. It hardly feels real, yet. Seeing familiar faces...helps." He didn't look at Kho as he said this, but Razem did, and was gratified to see the general wince.
"I assume your possessions were placed in storage in Rivarden after your capture was confirmed," Razem said, "but regardless, I hope you shall rest assured that you shall not be left to want for anything. My father and I are both cognizant of the service you have rendered to the crown."
"Again, I thank your highness."
Razem gestured. "I said we are informal today, did I not? You may call me Razem in this room."
He saw Hawk's throat move when he swallowed. "As you wish...Razem. Please call me Hawk, then. It is what I am used to."
Razem nodded. "If you were given unlimited choice and resources, Hawk, what would you do now? You are home. What is the desire of your heart?"
Hawk looked bewildered by the question. He stared at his wine goblet, but Razem wasn't sure if he even saw it. "I...I hardly know."
"You have no family left, I believe," Razem pressed. "Is there a sweetheart? A girl--oh, or boy, I suppose--who waits for your return?"
"I--no, your--Razem. I have never been in love." Hawk blinked, frowning. "I did promise myself that I would return to Rivarden someday, were it possible." He looked up, dark eyes searching out Razem's. "I promised only to myself, no other, but--"
"Then you shall return to Rivarden," Razem interrupted, relieved that the man had asked for something he could grant. "My father gave me instructions to parade you through the cities and towns of Tamnen, celebrating you as a war hero and your recovery as a victory for our side. Rivarden, where you were taken, is certainly the most important of those cities."
"Your Highness," Kho protested.
"We will go to Rivarden. Make the plans, Kho. We will escort Baron Arkad and his family back to their holdings and proceed from there into the desert."
"Sir, the desert is not a safe place," Kho said. "There are bandits. And this close to the Shokanda, it is likely we will encounter Strid irregulars."
"Is it?" Razem asked, momentarily diverted. "Well, good, then. We will be able to demonstrate to them as well as our own citizenry that The Hawk is back."
"Is that it?" Hawk said, his voice soft. "Am I to be returned to military duty?" His quiet tone gave no clue about his feelings on the matter.
"Does that not suit you?"
"I am happy to serve in any way I can," Hawk replied. "But the army has not operated all these years with a hole where my rank once was."
"Of course not, but you may be certain we will find a place for you. Perhaps I shall knight you. We haven't had a Glorious Knight of the Crown for several years. You might make a very good candidate." Razem's smile felt like it was full of teeth, but he wasn't sure if his annoyance was for Hawk's reluctance or Kho's obvious displeasure. Perhaps both. "I understand knights must undergo a good amount of suffering before they are found worthy."
Hawk subsided under that, but Kho did not. "Prince Razem, I must heartily object. Your father charged me first and foremost with protecting you and Lord Burojan and the duke, until we arrived here. And after, I was to extend that protection to Hawk. I cannot see any reason for us to venture away from the regular trade routes."
"Perhaps you cannot, Emran, but I can." Razem let his smile fade; he was gritting his teeth, anyway, so that it felt more like a grimace than a smile. He straightened in his seat and met Kho's gaze directly. "My father ordered me to show Hawk every honor, to display our gratitude and affection for Hawk before every major settlement in Tamnen. We will ride to Rivarden, and from there we will take the Kreyden Capital Canal up to Lishan. When we reach Lishan, I will decide whether we turn west for the capital or east for Meekin." He flashed a hard smile at Kho. "I will not have anyone accuse me of shirking the duties my father has laid on my shoulders."
Kho didn't like it. Razem could tell by the way the large man shuffled his feet and gave only a curt nod in response. But at least the general didn't protest again.
Razem turned to face Hawk. The commander was staring into his wine glass, but Razem couldn't tell if his head was bowed in acquiescence or merely in the hope that Razem would leave him alone. Unfortunately, neither of them had the luxury of being left alone. Razem drew in a long breath. He was about to speak when a tap on the door heralded the arrival of servants bearing two trays of bland food, followed by a healer in blue.
Razem corrected his posture so he would seem languid and relaxed rather than tense and impatient. Then he waved a hand to the servants.
"Bring the tray over here to the commander. He will tell you what to fill his plate with." Razem turned his attention to the healer, a walnut-skinned woman with cropped white hair who wore loose trousers and a thigh-length, wraparound tunic. He beckoned her over, smiling.
The bow she gave him was exact and polite. "Your highness," she murmured.
"Commander Hawk is concerned abo
ut his reintroduction to our cuisine," Razem told her. "As well, I am concerned about his physical condition and if there is anything we should provide to ease his transition home."
The healer looked startled, but the cool gray eyes that met his were appraising. "Very good, your highness. Have you any specific concerns? Torture? Starvation?" From the corner of his eye, Razem saw Hawk's head snap up, but the prince ignored it.
"No, no, nothing like that, I hope," he said briskly. "But you might look at that leg of his, see if there's anything that can be done. And take a look at what he eats. Stop him if anything is too rich or spicy for him." He paused and lowered his voice. "And you might check him--discreetly--for lice."
He hadn't spoken quietly enough. He saw Hawk flinch, though Kho and the servants didn't seem to have heard. The healer frowned at him, but nodded and moved away to begin her inspection.
Thinking to give them some privacy, Razem ambled to where Kho stood by the table again, staring down at the selection of food. Kho tensed as Razem approached, though he didn't look up. Razem had planned to ask what problem Kho had with Hawk, but when he saw Kho tense, he thought better of the idea. Instead he selected a glazed berry and popped it in his mouth.
"I understand you are displeased with me, Emran," he said softly. "But I do feel it my duty to obey my father."
"A fine time for that, your highness," Kho muttered, but he looked over at him, one side of his mouth curling up.
Razem gave him a matching half-smile in return. "You may be right, Kho. But that's as may be. We go to Rivarden."
"Your highness." Kho bowed his head.
Part Two - Voices
Chapter 7
The air smelled of sweet coffee, cherry blossoms, and blood.
Yar's stomach quivered, but he didn't respond to the question his eldest brother had just asked him. It wouldn't do any good to answer, even if he wanted to. Rith never understood the words Yar said, or the way he said them.
Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) Page 7