by David Weber
“That’s Taychau talking,” the countess said with a watery chuckle, hugging the nephew who’d long since become the son she’d never had.
“No, Aunt Hyngpau,” he told her. “That’s history talking.”
* * *
“He’s right about that,” Nahrmahn Baytz said somberly, and Merlin nodded.
He’d made the flight to Nimue’s Cave from Chisholm, where Cayleb, Sharleyan, and their children were currently ensconced, to collect a rather special birthday present for Domynyk Maikel. The boy was only four years old, which was still on the young side for the complete, upgraded Federation nanotech he’d designed for the rest of the inner circle. The mil spec self-repair nanites could be more than a little too aggressive, especially the way he’d tweaked them, for a child. But Owl had long since whipped up a version that upgraded the standard childhood package only slightly. It would make him equally disease-resistant and provide a somewhat gentler regeneration capability, and he was finally old enough to receive it. There’d been no need for Merlin to come collect Domynyk Maikel’s injection in person; Owl was more than capable of delivering it so stealthily no one would ever notice. But he liked to touch base with the cave physically every few months.
Maybe even more important than that, though, was how much he enjoyed excuses to strap himself into the recon skimmer. There were a lot fewer of those than there’d been during the Jihad.
“I do wish he and his wife had had those extra years, though,” he continued now, sitting back in one of the chairs at the circular table. “Not just because they deserved them, either. We needed him, Nahrmahn.”
“No, we’ll miss him,” Nahrmahn corrected gently. “Wind Song’s ready, Merlin. He’s been ready for years now. I know he hates the very thought of stepping into the Earl’s shoes, but that’s only because they were his uncle’s shoes and he wishes Rainbow Waters was still here to fill them. Do you really think any of East Harchong’s policies are going to change?”
“No,” Merlin said after a moment, and Nahrmahn nodded.
“Of course they aren’t! Why should they? That parliament notion Tymythy Rhobair and Vicar Zherohmy sold to Rainbow Waters was brilliant, and we didn’t even have to suggest it to them!” The avatar’s lips twitched, despite his somber mood. “And Wind Song’s contribution to the new franchise qualifications was inspired.”
“I suspect the constitution they voted out gave the executive a little more power than he or his uncle expected,” Merlin observed.
“Actually, I suspect it may be a little more power than he or his uncle wanted,” Nahrmahn replied.
“Probably.” Merlin nodded. “Mind you, I think he’ll find out he needs it, whatever he may’ve thought he wanted. But you’re right about how smart the lot of them were. The people of East Harchong are invested in their own rule now, and they will fight to the death to keep it, and they couldn’t have a better head of state for that than Wind Song. Only I guess we should really start thinking about him as Rainbow Waters. After all, he’s the earl now, isn’t he?”
“Legally, under the terms of his uncle’s will.” Nahrmahnr shrugged. “Personally, I make the odds sixty-forty he lets the title lapse. It’s not like he or any of his descendants will ever regain the earldom, anyway. And I think … I think he doesn’t want there to be any confusion about which ‘Rainbow Waters’ they’re talking about when they start writing the history of everything the Earl managed to accomplish.”
“You don’t think that will disappoint his aunt?”
“I think his aunt thinks he’s his uncle’s true memorial,” Nahrmahn said. “And if he wants to let the title go, let it ‘stay with’ the Earl, I think she’ll understand.”
“Won’t hurt anything for him to stand in his own right, either, I suppose.” Nahrmahn arched an eyebrow, and Merlin shrugged and then smiled. “In the history books, I mean. God knows he already stands on his own where the Host—and now their Parliament—is concerned!”
“That’s true.” Nahrmahn nodded. “Like I say, we’ll miss the Earl, but overall, I think East Harchong’s in excellent hands, Merlin. Sure as hell better hands than South Harchong, anyway!”
NOVEMBER YEAR OF GOD 911
.I.
Room 307, King Haarahld VII Hall, Royal College Campus, and Archbishop Maikel’s private chapel, Archbishop’s Palace, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis, Charisian Empire.
“Oh, thank you both for coming!” Princess Rahnyldah said, looking up from the opened books and drifts of notepaper which festooned the library-style tables. “If I don’t get this equation nailed down for Doctor Mahklyn, he is so going to pin my ears back in class tomorrow!”
“Oh, don’t be silly!” Crown Princess Alahnah replied with a laugh. “First, I’m sure we can turn up whatever you’re looking for. Second, he likes you too much to do any ear-pinning even if we don’t.”
“Easy for you to say,” Rahnyldah retorted, looking up at her far taller friend. Alahnah, at seventeen, was clearly still growing. She was also already four inches taller than Rahnyldah, who’d decided to stop at five-two. “He’s known you since you were a baby. Besides, you’re a crown princess, with all sorts of executioners and stuff. I’m only the spare heir. Nobody’s afraid of me!”
“Only the people who know you and realize what a terrible temper you have,” Lywys Whytmyn said from behind Alahnah as he followed her into the otherwise unoccupied classroom. He smiled as Rahnyldah made a rude gesture in his direction. While he never forgot she was currently second in the line of succession for the Dohlaran throne, they’d grown up together and she was very much his “kid sister.”
“I do not have a terrible temper!” she told him now. “I haven’t asked Rahnyld to lock anyone in the tower in, oh, two or three years now.”
“Oh, very reformed, Rahnee!” Lywys chuckled as Lieutenant Makahfee, the new commander of Alahnah’s protective detail, stepped through the door on his heels. The Marine’s eyes swept the room quickly but thoroughly, and he crossed to open the door in the west wall and poke his head through. He gave the small cluster of study cubicles a searching glance, then closed the door, drew himself to semi-attention, bowed respectfully in Alahnah’s direction, and withdrew, shutting the hall door behind him.
She watched the door close, and her eyes were sad for a moment. She liked Dahnyld Makahfee. She liked him a lot. But there were times when she missed Lieutenant Bynyt and especially Sergeant Adkok so much it hurt. She’d had almost six months to become accustomed to her new Marines, yet that memory could still ambush her unawares.
Rahnyldah watched the door close, as well, then giggled. Lywys looked at her, head tilted and eyebrows arched in surprise, and she shook her head.
“You really thought I wanted you to help me with a math problem, Lywys?” Her expression was pitying and she rolled her eyes. “Please!”
His own eyes narrowed, then flipped sideways to Alahnah. The imperial family had returned to Tellesberg from Cherayth only two days ago, and this was Alahnah’s first day back at the College. To be honest, he’d wondered why Rahnyldah had sent him such an urgent plea for assistance, especially since he’d seen her at supper in the Archbishop’s Palace just last night and she hadn’t said a word about it then. Now.…
“The light dawns!” Rahnyldah laughed.
“I have it on the best of authority that all men are a little slow,” Alahnah said dryly, giving Rahnyldah a quick hug.
“The empirical evidence would seem to support that hypotheses,” Rahnyldah intoned in a rather good impersonation of Doctor Hahlcahm.
“Yes, it does, and I owe you for this one, Rahnee.”
“Yes, you do, Lahna,” Rahnyldah agreed, squeezing her back. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask for anything big. Maybe … oh, a mutual defense treaty or something else small.”
“Sounds about right,” Alahnah agreed with a chuckle. “Now scoot … please.”
Rahnyldah snorted, but she also waved and disappeared through the door to the study cub
icles. There was no other entry or exit to or from the cubicles, which was one reason she’d chosen Room 307. She and Alahnah had known the Marines would settle for guarding its external access points.
The door closed behind her, and Lywys turned his somewhat wary attention to Alahnah.
“And just what, if I can ask, was that all about?”
“Lord help me, you are slow, aren’t you?” Alahnah said, and opened her arms to him.
He hesitated just a moment, but then his own arms went around her and he held her tight, bending to press his cheek against her sweet-smelling hair.
“It’s been a long four months,” he said a bit huskily, feeling that lithe, slender body pressed against his own.
“You mean it’s been a long five months … and one five-day, including travel time,” she said against his chest. “But who’s counting?”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest against her ear, and she smiled.
“I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time,” she continued. “I mean, thank God for our coms, but they’re no substitute for this.”
“No, they aren’t,” he agreed. “But it’s been kind of eye-opening in a lot of ways, you know. Grandfather always did wonder how your mom and dad seemed able to read each other’s minds even when they were half a world apart! Little did he know.”
Alahnah snorted, remembering the endless hours she and Lywys had spent on the com during her four-and-a-half-month sojourn in Cherayth. They’d had fewer—and much briefer—opportunities on the Ahlfryd Hyndryk in transit to and from Chisholm. She’d wondered, too, about her parents. Not how they’d read each other’s minds but how two people who obviously loved one another so dearly could have stood to be apart so long during the Jihad. Now she knew. It must still have hurt, but at least they’d been able to see one another, talk to one another.
And so had she and Lywys.
Now she gave him one last squeeze, then stood back so that she could look up into his face. She was going to be taller than her mother—she got that from her father—but Lywys was actually an inch taller than Cayleb. That was nice, she thought.
Now she gazed up into his eyes, and thought about all those conversations. Thought about how he’d been there for her, despite the different time zones, whenever she woke in the night, weeping brokenheartedly for her dead Marine protectors. How they’d laughed at each other’s jokes. How they’d marveled with one another over the incredible vista of human history which had been opened to them. The way they’d seen all of her parents’ actions slotting into the strategy which must someday bring down the Church of God Awaiting and the Holy Writ in which an entire world believed.
She’d talked to him about things she’d never dreamed of discussing with another. Things she hadn’t been able to talk even to her parents about as she realized how horribly it hurt to discover that the Church in which she’d believed her entire life was founded upon a lie. That all of the millions of innocent people who had died in the Jihad had been slaughtered in the service of that lie.
And that it was very possible the world—or their world, at least—was going to end barely four years from this very day.
As she looked into his eyes, she saw the memory of those conversations, and of the other conversations, they’d had as well. The ones about dreams and hopes. The ones about friendship and how friendship could change, deepen.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said now. “I mean to really see you, with my own eyes. Know you’re really here.”
“Likewise,” he said softly, raising a hand to the side of her face. Then he smiled. “We were already going to see each other at dinner tonight, though, you know.”
“You’re an idiot,” she told him, putting her hand over his to press her cheek more firmly into his palm.
“I’m male.” He shrugged. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“God, that’s scary!” She shook her head.
“I understand it gets worse as we get older and our brains ossify,” he told her very seriously.
“Wonderful.”
“I know. At the same time, in my slow male way, I’m still wondering exactly why we had to get Rahnee involved in all this. I mean, I thought we’d agreed to be ‘discreet.’”
“If you think Rahnyldah hasn’t already figured out how we feel about each other, you’re not just slow, doof!” Alahnah shook her head. “She’d figured it out before we ever left for Cherayth.”
“Well, okay. I can see that.” He nodded. “But why the charade?”
“I could say it’s because we had practically zero opportunity to cuddle before I got whisked off to Cherayth, and that would be true. But the real reason is because I wanted to be standing this close to you—alone—when I asked you a question,” Alahnah said, and the humor had fled from her expression and her voice was soft.
“You could’ve done that at the Palace tonight,” he pointed out. “Your mom and dad have to know how many hours we’ve spent ‘alone together’ on the com. I don’t think they’d have begrudged us a minute or two of physical privacy. Or maybe they would have,” he added with a crooked grin, “if they’d figured out how much lost ‘cuddling’ I’d like to make up for!”
“Of course they wouldn’t have, but I don’t want them to know about this conversation until after we’ve had it.”
“Alahnah, Merlin has a SNARC remote parked on top of you twenty-six hours a day! They’re not going to know we talked?”
“No, they aren’t. Or not what we talked about, anyway. Mom and Dad don’t spy on the people they love any more than they have to, so they’ve put Merlin and Owl in charge of my security and Merlin has Owl privacy-filtering my conversations. Oh, if they ask, Owl will tell them you and I spoke to each other, but not what about. If they really want to know that, they’ll ask me.”
Lywys nodded slowly, but his eyes were intent as he absorbed her own focused intensity.
“Okay, I can see that,” he said. “But why don’t you want them to know we’ve talked?”
“It’s not that we’ve talked, it’s what we’ve talked about,” she replied, and his eyes narrowed as she looked down again, fingers playing with the pleats of her gown. That sudden break of eye contact was very unlike the Alahnah he knew.
“Which is?” he asked gently.
“Which is—” she looked back up “—what we want to do about the way we feel about each other.”
His nostrils flared, although he couldn’t pretend even to himself that he was really surprised. It was just something he’d very carefully kept himself from thinking through.
“Lahna, I know what I want to do.” He caught both her hands in his and squeezed. “I think it’s what I wanted to do even before the hunting trip. But you’re a crown princess. And not just a crown princess; you’re the crown princess. Your parents are the most powerful monarchs in the history of Safehold, and I’m the grandson of an earl without any titles—or any prospect of any titles—of my own. And twelve years ago, our families were shooting at each other! There’s no way your parents could agree to let you marry someone like me.”
“My God, you are an idiot,” she said softly, an edge of loving tears in her voice. “You think my parents wouldn’t let me marry you?! Lywys, they love each other to pieces. You think they wouldn’t want that for me, too?”
“I’m sure they would, but they’re rulers, Lahna. Sometimes they have to make decisions they don’t want to make. Like what happened to Duke Eastshare, for God’s sake! I admire them and I respect them more than I could possibly say exactly, because they’ve never flinched from making those decisions. But there’s no way they could waste your hand on a Dohlaran nobody, no matter who his grandfather was.”
“First of all, you’re not a nobody and never have been!” she said just a bit sharply. “Second, who are they going to marry me off to as a diplomatic masterstroke? Emperor Mahrys’ son? Zhyou-Zhwo’s son? Please! Not going to happen, and even if it did, I’d slit my wrists on the way to the ca
thedral! And there’s not anybody else they want or could conceivably need a dynastic alliance with. I mean, the Republic doesn’t have a royal family, so that rules Siddarmark out. And Silkiah’s a nice place, but it’s going to be pretty firmly in the Charisian orbit no matter what. So the only ‘diplomatic’ consideration would be Prince Rohlynd—who, I’ll grant you, is about the right age—to solidify Tarot’s loyalty to the Empire. But that doesn’t seem like a pressing concern at the moment, even if he didn’t already seem very attracted to Fhrancys Breygart, and aside from Rohlynd, there’s nobody else on the horizon. In fact, if we’re waiting for the right dynastic partner to come along, I’ll die an old maid, and I wouldn’t like that.”
“No, I can see that.” His voice was a trifle unsteady and his lips twitched.
“Well maybe you’re not a complete idiot then.” She shook her head, but she also squeezed his hands more tightly.
“If you want to marry me,” she told him quietly, “Mom and Dad will say yes in a heartbeat. I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about some … other things.”
“I’m not sure marrying me would be a wonderful idea—politically, I mean,” he argued with stubborn integrity. “You may be right about dynastic marriages, but I can see all kinds of downsides to a marriage between the Charisian crown and Dohlar.”
She nodded, and the eyes she’d inherited from her father softened. It was like him to worry about the consequences of something they’d both discovered over the months just past that they both wanted so badly. And although he’d never admit it, possibly even to himself, there was another factor. He genuinely was a “nobody” in the eyes of altogether too much of the world, and the people behind those eyes would undoubtedly think of him as a fortune hunter. Or of her as a flutter-headed little girl who thought with her hormones.
