Shard & Shield

by Laura VanArendonk Baugh

  Shianan took a few steps into the room and dropped to one knee, bowing his head. Luca blinked, seeing richly dressed men standing around the suddenly silent room, and threw himself to the floor. If his master knelt, Luca could not do less.

  “My lords,” said a broad man in the center, “what have we here? Look, General Septime. Do you recognize this man?”

  The general shifted. “Majesty….”

  “Ah! Wait, it could be Bailaha. Is it? We did not at first see past the bloodshot eyes and bleary countenance. Stand, Bailaha, and join our conference.”

  Shianan straightened, keeping his arm close to his injured side. “Your Majesty.”

  Luca knew better than to rise, but he risked shifting his head to look at the room. A few slaves stood against the wall, but he didn’t think he should move to join them. He saw the nobles and military men look away from his master, distancing themselves.

  “We were talking, Bailaha, of the appearance of a Ryuven in our midst last night. You might have heard something to that effect?”

  Shianan’s head was bowed. “Yes, sire.”

  “Oh, that’s good. At least you won’t claim a dimly remembered dream or some other feeble drunkard’s tale.” The king tapped a finger on the table. “It was late when our Amber Mage, who had not yet retired, sensed the arrival of a Ryuven.” He nodded toward a woman in appropriately colored robes, who bobbed respectfully in return.

  “Why only one mage?” asked Septime. “Why didn’t others sense this?”

  “It was, as the king says, late,” offered the White Mage gently from a corner. Luca had not noticed him before. “Most of us were sleeping, and a single Ryuven of lesser power would not generate enough of a disturbance to wake us.”

  “I suggest a night watch,” General Septime put in. “We’ve never expected a single Ryuven to enter Alham alone, and so we’ve relied upon advance warning. But this shows otherwise.”

  “An excellent idea,” the king said. “Our mages and soldiers will work together to watch for Ryuven and deploy appropriate counters. But we will take care to keep Bailaha from the night watches. We would not want to disturb his libations.”

  Shianan flushed scarlet. “Your Majesty—”

  “You were drunk, were you not?” demanded the king. “When the Ryuven appeared—when we might have been under attack—you were drunk?” He took a step forward. “Answer, Bailaha!”

  Shianan flinched. “Yes, Your Majesty. I was drunk.”

  “And when this threat was announced, did you seize a weapon and rush to command your men, as is your duty?”

  Shianan had to try twice to speak. “I—no, I did not.”

  “And why not?”

  Shianan swallowed. “I will offer my single excuse, Your Majesty. It was night, and I had no duties. As the time was my own—”

  “Your time is not your own!” thundered King Jerome. “Your time belongs to this kingdom. Your first duty, from which you are never released, is to come to this kingdom’s aid. In neglecting that duty, Bailaha, you failed us all.”

  Shianan’s head sank lower. His mouth opened, but he did not speak.

  “But the Ryuven fled immediately,” the White Mage said from the side. “Why? We know he was in the Wheel, and nothing is missing. What he did want that he was here for mere moments?”

  “We don’t know,” the king snapped. “Perhaps he was verifying the shield is indeed destroyed—but we cannot be certain, since he was not captured.” He looked darkly at Shianan. “He went practically unchallenged in our very stronghold!”

  The men shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

  The king stepped nearer to Shianan. “Lift your head,” he said curtly. Shianan obeyed, showing his blackened eye and jagged cut, and Luca saw tight lines etched around his mouth. “What is this?” King Jerome circled Shianan, who stared fixedly ahead. “Did you fall against the door in a drunken stupor?”

  Shianan swallowed. “I was attacked, Your Majesty, and defended myself.”

  “Attacked? Not by our Ryuven; you never made it so far. Where was this attack?”

  Shianan gamely answered the tapestried wall. “At the Brining Tankard.”

  The king’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh? So a tavern brawl first—a fine occupation for a count of our nobility. Then you went home to drink yourself further into oblivion.”

  One of the other men coughed. “Your Majesty, if we could—”

  “No, no, Your Grace.” King Jerome waved in protest. “We know what you wish to say, and it is well-intentioned but incorrect. This is certainly the business of the court, because it is the business of the kingdom. Here is a noble, an officer entrusted with the safety of the crown and the people, and he is found drunk at the very moment when he is needed. My lords!” He stepped back and pointed at Shianan, who stared blinking ahead. “You who serve well, you who perform your duties conscientiously—look at this man and mark him. We want that none of our servants bear such shame.” He faced Shianan. “You may take your leave, Bailaha. As we have not yet found evidence that alcohol is a potent weapon against the Ryuven, we do not require your assistance at this time.”

  Shianan bowed stiffly without speaking and backed to the door. The king turned his back before Shianan reached the antechamber. Luca scuttled backward and closed the chamber doors firmly, then turned to find Shianan already disappearing down the corridor. Luca ignored the staring secretary and ran after him.

  Shianan was traveling fast, his stride lengthening nearly to a run as he shot down the corridors. He burst from the Naziar into the courtyard, ignoring the guards on either side. A group of slaves carrying packs and baskets of vegetables crowded the yard, and Shianan shoved his way through. Luca wove more slowly behind him.

  Shianan jerked open the outer door and went through his office without hesitating. His hand fumbled with the latch of the inner door, but before Luca could reach him Shianan shoved back the door and went into his quarters. He staggered a few steps and fell on his knees, folding his arms across his chest and groaning.

  Luca hurried to him. “Master! Are you—”

  “Get away!” roared Shianan, flinging his arm backward at Luca. His teeth flashed like an animal’s as he snarled. “Out! Let me be!”

  Luca stumbled backward, dragging the door shut behind him. Slowly he sank to the floor. From the other room he heard a low keening, as from someone mourning or in pain.

  The bastard—Luca had not understood at first. The physical resemblance was not blatant, but it was there, and King Jerome could not ordinarily afford to treat his nobility so contemptuously.

  Luca felt himself trembling and squeezed his fists, driving his nails into his palms in an attempt to quell the savage emotion which roiled suddenly within him. He had thought he’d forgotten—but the rage had not gone. It had only lain dormant.

  Endure, Luca.

  Liar! Traitor!

  The keening faded. Luca took a long, shuddering breath and swallowed. He understood now what Shianan had meant. I cannot change what I must do, but I don’t require it of you. Don’t kneel and scrape all the time, do you understand? Shianan was no more to his royal father than Luca was to any master—than Luca had been to his own father. Shianan knelt for abuse just as Luca had before Ande.

  Luca pushed himself to his feet and faced the door. He should not enter, he should not intrude on his master’s grief and shame, but it was somehow as wrong to leave him alone.

  He set his forehead against the door, hearing nothing. Wounded animals were most dangerous. Had his master not just shouted and struck at him?

  Luca gritted his teeth. He owed Shianan Becknam this much.

  He opened the door quietly. Shianan sat against the footboard, his knees to his chest, a boy hiding from some terror. Luca closed the door behind him and crept forward a few steps before crouching silently.

  Shianan lifted his head from his knees. “What are you doing?” he rasped. “Get out!”

  Luca twitched but remained where he was. “You
were right, master, when you spoke of retaliation.”

  Shianan blinked. “What you say is treason.”

  “You said there could be no retaliation for you. I understand now.”

  Shianan uncoiled, his expression darkening. “I cannot believe you would intrude only to say you comprehend my shame.”

  Luca closed his eyes, expecting to be struck. “No, master.” He sensed his next words were his most dangerous. “It was my father who sold me.”

  Shianan rubbed roughly at his face. “What makes you think the history of a slave matters to me?”

  Luca stared at his clenched hands. “He sold me to be summoned and ordered and beaten and humiliated. I hate him more than I hate the high priest.”

  Shianan’s eyes narrowed. “You see too much. I should have—but you knew yesterday, didn’t you?” He tightened a fist in helpless fury. “I could not hide it yesterday.”

  Luca swallowed and said nothing.

  “So you think we’re alike, do you? You think our positions are the same—me, a count and a commander, and you a slave?”

  Luca had made a mistake, a terrible mistake. He should never have come, should never have spoken, should never have opened the door….

  Shianan swore. “Tam said as much.”

  Luca could not help the question that burst from him. “What?”

  “Tam said I took orders as a slave did. That I am a slave to—the king.” He twitched. “I was angry then, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

  Luca bit his lip. This was not as he’d wanted it. He would do nothing but provoke his master into demonstrating his power.

  “So were you a bastard too, sired on some slave girl and disposed of when you became inconvenient?” Shianan’s voice was harsh. “It might have been nice to have been a forgettable mistake.”

  “No, master. I was an own son, born a freeman.”

  “Freemen don’t sell their sons.”

  “They do, when they are indebted and the price of negotiation is the sale of a child.”

  Shianan’s mouth hardened. “Your father sold you for credit?”

  Hot tears threatened Luca’s eyes, making him turn away. “He put the shackles on my wrists himself.” Old anger and grief surged within him. “Himself, do you understand? He bound me for the trader himself!” He gulped. “And my brothers—he kept them. He sold me into slavery and my brother just watched me dragged away.”

  Shianan’s face turned a deeper red. “Your family.”

  Luca could not answer him.

  A long moment passed. Shianan ground a balled fist into the floor. “A nice trick. I am too angry at your father to think of—the king.” He rubbed savagely at his face. “All of them—I hate them all.” He gave Luca a hard look. “Why did you come here?”

  Luca was unprepared for the question. “What?”

  “You disobeyed me, came when I told you to go and stayed when I told you to leave. You saw my humiliation and claimed we were equals. Is your slavery so heavy that you wished for death? What possessed you to be so stupid?”

  Luca’s throat constricted. “I—I thought….”

  “Did you already miss the feel of the whip?”

  Luca shrank. “I’m sorry, master.”

  “We’re both sorry.” Shianan gestured abstractly. “Look at us, cringing and sniveling and practically moldering in our own tears. There’s not another more sorry pair within the Alham walls.” He sighed.

  Luca bowed his head.

  “I couldn’t speak of this in front of anyone but a slave.” Shianan rubbed his sleeve across his mouth. “Even so, Luca, my slave, I will make you an oath—if I find that you’ve used this in any way, I will make Ande’s tortures seem mild, do you understand?”

  “I will never mention it.”

  “In any way,” Shianan repeated. He dropped his head. “You wouldn’t, though, would you? And not even for fear of punishment.” He looked at Luca with unguarded, miserable eyes. “No other man in the king’s chamber today would have had the heart or the stones to come in here.”

  “The White Mage is a good man,” Luca said quickly, uncomfortable with Shianan’s bitter praise.

  “Yes.” Shianan gave a long sigh. “I cannot afford to wallow in my sorrows. I cannot be caught unprepared again, no matter the cost.” He gestured toward the stand across the room. “Is there water?”

  “Yes, master.”

  Shianan held up a finger. “Yes, Master Shianan. ‘Soats, you can’t argue we are the same and then address me as if I were that mongrel of a Gehrn.” He got to his feet and went to the washstand. “Find me something to eat, would you?”

  “Yes, Master Shianan.”

  Luca went out through the office and into the street, busy with morning activity. He paused at the fountain and took a long, careful breath. Finally he cupped cold water in his hands and splashed his face, shocking away the clinging agitation.

  A hand settled on Luca’s shoulder. “How is the commander? Did they chew him out much?”

  Luca steeled himself to meet the strange soldier’s eyes. “My master is very well, thank you. He will be in his office after his breakfast.”

  He eased forward, letting the hand slide from his shoulder, and started for the kitchen. No one called him back or held him, and he lengthened his stride with a small measure of relief.

  He brought breakfast from the kitchen, musing that the trip was too far for cold weather. He would have to use warmed stones. Shianan was in the office when he returned, looking over papers. Only the darkened eye and cut marred his face; his expression was unruffled and attentive. He nodded as Luca set down the breakfast and continued reading.

  Someone rapped at the door behind Luca. “Commander?”

  Shianan gestured, his mouth full of bread, and Luca opened the door. A man stepped inside, holding a letter. “The White Mage sends you this, sir.”

  Shianan took the letter, folded but unsealed. “He did not write this?”

  “No, sir, it was open when he entrusted it to me. He said he found it near his offices but believes you should see it. He is still with the king at this time.”

  There was no name on the outside of the letter. Shianan opened the letter with one hand, using the other to take another bite of his meal. The soldier, dismissed, departed.

  My dear master, the letter began.

  Shianan’s stomach tightened. Mage Hazelrig had unconventional ideas regarding slavery and had kept only Tam, so far as Shianan knew.

  My dear master, you will be gratified to know our journey has gone well, though we have been delayed. My mistress is ill with traveling but comfortable, and the consulting physicians say she should rest for a time before trying to proceed home. I will of course continue to serve her to the best of my ability as I know you would instruct me. Do not worry on her behalf, master, as I will do my best to bring her safely to you when she is recovered.

  Shianan stared at the letter, hardly daring to breathe. There was a short signature at the end: Your devoted servant, T.

  The letter was unassuming and unidentified, should anyone else see it, but to Mage Hazelrig it could only be from Tam—

  “She’s alive!” Shianan breathed, the letter trembling in his hand. “Sweet Holy One, she’s really alive.”

  Chapter 27

  Energy shifted subtly, and Tamaryl sagged in relief. A few minutes later Maru appeared in the center of the room, breathless with the effort of leaping the void. “Left beneath his door.”

  “And no one saw you?”

  “Some mage must have sensed my arrival, and I was pursued.” He grinned. “But I was quicker, as you can see.”

  Tamaryl shook his head. “I did not want you so near to danger.”

  “I’m fine, Ryl’sho. How is the rika?”

  Tamaryl turned toward Ariana, motionless on the bed. “She should have awakened by now.”

  “Nori’bel said perhaps she would protect herself until she reconciled her body to the magic here.”

  Tamaryl s
ighed. “I hope that is it.” He faced Maru. “I am going now. I will go to Aktonn first. It seems Rarn’sho and Do’che have especial need of my guidance.”

  Maru gave him a guarded look, but even after so many years Tamaryl could read his thoughts. Maru knew Oniwe had given him a difficult task, one that would benefit all if he succeeded and leave Oniwe blameless if he failed. “I will watch over the rika as best I can,” he said.

  Tamaryl nodded. “Thank you.”

  “But….” Maru looked uncomfortable. “If she should wake—if she is alarmed….”

  “Yes?”

  “She is a mage, isn’t she? And the most powerful ever to come here, or she would not be alive.”

  “She will remember you,” Tamaryl said, hoping it were true. “My name in her world was Tam—use that if necessary. But she will remember you. She has not met so many Ryuven. And she is not so foolhardy as to open battle here alone.”

  Maru nodded. “If you say so.” He put on a smile. “Travel safely.”

  Fifteen years had passed since Tamaryl had really used his wings, except for diving after Ariana and struggling with their combined weights and his neglected skill. Still, his Ryuven body was at ease in the winds, and the night was clear, and it was an easy flight to regain his confidence and find his way to Aktonn.

  Tamaryl soared higher, squinting against the burn of the wind. He could feel himself grinning.

  Fifteen years was a long time to miss his home…. And now he had his former place, something he had never dared to dream. He folded his wings and rolled forward into a somersault, air screaming past his ears. Then he spread his wings to catch himself and laughed aloud.

  Daranai would be waiting for his return. The thought excited him. Conjoining meant affirmation of his regained position, a companion who would never be separated from him, precious after his exile. And Daranai was eager for him, too; he could see it in her hungry glances, feel it in the way she teased with word and casual action.

  He dove into another roll, giddy with the rush of wind and adrenaline. This time he turned over twice before snapping his wings to their impressive span. It was a child’s game, one young Ryuven played to amuse themselves while incidentally building confidence and skill. One had to open his wings just at the precise instant, or they would not catch the air properly. Of course, the game inevitably degraded to challenging one another to see who could fall the furthest before opening his or her wings, where it taught the pitfalls of folly and recklessness as well—whatever they could not heal themselves, they took to the healers, who scolded them fiercely as they treated them. Tales of those who had died kept most from trying it at higher altitudes.