Light of Eidon (Legends of the Guardian-King, Book 1)

by Karen Hancock

  As it happens, I do,” Eldrin said, coming up beside them, straight-faced.

  Carissa whirled to confront him. “Then, why is he not…” She trailed off, blue eyes wide. He couldn’t keep from grinning then, while the Initiate retreated hastily.

  The last time Eldrin had seen her, his twin had been a chubby, freckled adolescent. Now she was a beautiful young woman, slender and graceful in a full-skirted gown of amber silk. Her thick blond hair was twisted into ropes at the crown and netted into a club at the nape of her neck. Soft tendrils framed a smooth complexion with features gentler than his own, though she shared his straight, narrow nose and deep-set blue eyes.

  Those eyes traveled over him now, head to toe and back again. “Plagues, Abramm?” she croaked. “Your hair’s nearly as long as mine?”

  “I’m told it grows exceptionally fast.”

  `And you’re so tall. And you look so much like-“

  “Like Father. I know.”

  She grimaced. “Well, except for the hair, of course.”

  `And a few other attributes.”

  They looked at each other and burst into laughter. She flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, Abramm, it is so good to see you again?”

  After a moment Eldrin pushed her gently away. He was sworn to chastity, and even touching a woman, sister or not, was frowned upon. “It’s Eldrin now,” he murmured.

  They stood awkwardly for a moment. Then he said, “Have you come down for the Festival, then?”

  “Rennalf has, yes.” She stroked the folded paper fan looped to her wrist. `And I’m going to Thilos in a couple of days. To visit Aunt Ana.”

  Again they fell into silence.

  “Of course,” she burst out, “I won’t go until after the contest. I’m hoping desperately someone will beat Gillard.” She flicked him a nervous smile. “He needs to be taken down a notch. Or three. Trap Meridon, the sword master’s son-you remember old Larrick Meridon, don’t you?-anyway, Meridon- he’s captain of the King’s Guard, by the way-he almost won last year. Some said he threw the match for fear of the trouble Gillard could make for him, his being a Terstan and all, but-” She broke off with a grimace. “I’m babbling, aren’t I? Sorry. I am just so nervous … seeing you. After the way we parted, I mean.”

  He regarded her wordlessly, still trying to catch up.

  She stole a glance at him. “I said some hateful things.”

  ,,we both did.”

  “Aye.” She turned the fan in her fingers.

  Eldrin clasped his hands behind his back, wondering what to say next.

  “It’s just …” She let her hands fall to her sides, drew a deep breath, and looked up. “When you left it was like having my arm ripped off. I hardly knew what to do with myself”

  “I never meant to hurt you, Riss.”

  “I know. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I mean, the way Gillard tormented you, you had to get away.”

  “That wasn’t why I took the vows.”

  “You did it because you wanted to serve Eidon, yes.” But she was only parroting his words from eight years past, still not understanding.

  `Anyway,” she went on, “I just wanted you to know I’m not angry anymore.” She met his gaze and smiled. “But I have missed you.”

  He felt he should say he’d missed her, too. But truly, there’d been no time or energy to miss anything, and with his thoughts turned more and more to Eidon, no room for the past.

  When he held silence, she averted her eyes and stroked the gilded edge of her fan. Then abruptly she snapped it open, stirring the air in front of her face. “My goodness? I’d forgotten how stifling summer gets down here?”

  “I know what you mean.” Relieved, he gestured up the graveled path. “Shall we find a place to sit? It’ll be cooler in the shade.”

  She fell in beside him as they walked. “The heat seems to get worse for me every year,” she went on. And, of course, last year I didn’t even come down on account of the baby so-“

  “Baby??” He whirled to face her. “You have a child?” Of course, she must. More than one, no doubt. She’d been married seven years, and it was her duty above all else to produce an heir for her husband. It just hadn’t occurred to him that his sister, his childhood companion and co-conspirator, could also be the mother of a pack of toddlers.

  She did not rise to his joy, did not look at him at all. The fan worked convulsively. Her voice, when it came, was nearly inaudible. “He was born too early, and we lost him. Just like his brother before him.”

  Eldrin winced, wanting to kick himself, and mumbled an apology.

  She shrugged. “Eidon makes all things right. Isn’t that how it goes?”

  For those who love him, Eldrin thought, dismayed by the bitterness in her voice. He said nothing, not wanting to rub salt in what was clearly an open wound, and stopped beside a shady bower, lifting a blossom-laden branch for her to step under.

  `Anyway, that’s the real reason I’m going to Thilos,” she said, heading for the marble bench at the base of the weeper’s gray trunk. “They’re supposed to be good at fixing that sort of thing.”

  “I will petition Eidon on your behalf,” he said gravely, settling beside her. She thanked him, but again he sensed her insincerity, and again they lapsed into uncomfortable silence. A bee buzzed nearby; birds chittered in the branches enfolding them. Then a group of stubble-headed acolytes swarmed up the paths, flitting from plant to plant, clipping leaves and stems with tiny scissors, and dropping their treasures into sackcloth bags. An elderly Guardian accompanied them, stopping at various shrubs to lecture his charges on identification and usage, lectures Eldrin had heard numerous times and had even given on occasion.

  As the group moved on, Carissa seized on the man’s last topic. “Hockspur? Isn’t that the one that makes you susceptible to suggestion? The one they’re always slipping people at parties?”

  “Aye.” He chuckled, grateful for something to say. “Hardly anyone makes it through their first year of the novitiate without falling prey to it.”

  “They gave it to you?” She leaned toward him eagerly. “What did they make you do?”

  “Well, some people are more susceptible than others.”

  She grinned. “Don’t tell me they had you barking like a dog.”

  “Fortunately, I’m one of the few with a natural resistance. It only makes me sick to my stomach.”

  She shook her head wryly. “You never did like being out of control. Must be that infamous Kalladorne will-of which you got a double portion.” She paused. “I wonder how Gillard would react.”

  “Carissa-“

  “Oh, I’m not going to do anything. It’s just fun to contemplate the possibilities. He has gotten so full of himself these days.”

  Eldrin offered a noncommittal murmur, preferring to avoid the topic of their obnoxious younger brother.

  Before he could come up with a new subject, she giggled and said, “Remember the time you stuck that tail in the back of his belt just as he set out to lead the Parade of Arms? The one with the black-and-white stripes? Remember? It looked ridiculous. And he never knew. Kept wondering why everyone was snickering in his wake. I’ve never laughed so hard in all my life.”

  Eldrin smiled briefly. “He broke my nose for that one.”

  She laid a hand against her cheek, her eyes widening with dismay. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  Eldrin shrugged. “Of all the things I left behind, I must admit Gillard is the least mourned.” Even now it was all too easy to conjure up impure feelings of hatred and anger and resentment. Not least because his brother was apparently unchanged and as unchecked as ever.

  He watched a hummingbird whir at a yellow flower on a low-hanging branch behind his sister’s shoulder. The bird, a dull gray-green in the shade, suddenly turned and looked right at him, sending an inexplicable chill up his spine.

  Oblivious to it, Carissa snapped out her fan and stirred the air again, sending the bird darting away. “So, where w
ere you yesterday?” she asked. “I went to the Procession, got a place right near the dock, but you weren’t there.”

  “They took me off earlier.”

  `Ah, on account of the rioting,” she guessed. “Raynen said they might do that.”

  She eyed him thoughtfully, then shook her head. “Every time I look at you, I get amazed all over again.” She touched the lock of blond hair that had fallen forward over his shoulder. “You look…” She flushed. “You look like a real-and-true Guardian.”

  “I am a real-and-true Guardian. Or nearly so.”

  “Yes.” She rested the open fan in her lap and looked at it, caressing an edge. After a moment she drew breath to speak.

  He cut her off. “Don’t, Riss. You know I won’t change my mind.”

  “Things are different now.”

  “Not for me.”

  “Of course for you.”

  He snorted. `All I’ve ever wanted was to know Eidon and serve him. That’s not changed.”

  “Maybe not, but it doesn’t matter. That’s the point.” She turned on the bench to face him. “We’re Kalladornes, Abramm. That makes us pawns-of the people, of politics, of power. What we want doesn’t figure into the mix.”

  “I am not a Kalladorne anymore, Carissa. I am a servant of Eidon.”

  “Not a Kalladorne?” She waved the fan dismissively. “Do you have any idea what’s going on in this city right now?”

  “If you mean the nonsense about Saeral putting me on the throne, yes. I know.”

  “It’s not nonsense.”

  “It most certainly is.”

  She pressed her lips together again, then turned away and resumed fanning.

  “Carissa, how could I be king? I lack the temperament for it, I have no military background, and I don’t know wools about politics. The Table of Lords would laugh me out of the Chamber.”

  “Not as many as you think. A majority approved your reinstatement to the succession.”

  He huffed. “In any case, Saeral would never stand for it. It’s not at all what being a Guardian is about.”

  She continued fanning, studying the tips of her amber slippers. “If you were king, could you not enact laws that would further Eidon’s interests?”

  “Eidon’s interests are only furthered by the work we do for his Flames.”

  “With you on the throne, that work could include driving heretics and practitioners of evil out of the realm, making sure people lived pure and virtuous lives. You could clean up the drunken excesses of the court and bring the lecherous barons into line.” She looked up at him. “Would that not strengthen the power of the Flames?”

  He stared at her, again bereft of words.

  She grimaced and shut the fan. “Oh, come, Abramm. Why can’t you see it? Saeral has been using you from the day he met you?”

  “Using me?”

  “Leading you along, convincing you that you were weak and clumsy, that he was the only one who cared or understood.”

  Eldrin smothered a convulsion of anger and turned from her. “I don’t want to hear this, Carissa.”

  “You wanted him to be the father you never had,” she persisted. “So you believed him, refusing to see what he was doing to you, refusing to take the responsibility for changing things yourself”

  “You’re speaking blasphemies. And I had a father.”

  “Not one who loved and praised you.”

  He stood up, forcing himself to breathe deeply. His name will be my peace…. “You’d better go.”

  She stood to face him, eyes flashing. “You know, of course, that Saeral was on a pilgrimage not one league from where Father and Aarol were murdered? And Elian didn’t die of the consumption-he was poisoned. Just like Stefan didn’t fall down the King’s Court stair. Now there’s only Raynen between you and the throne.”

  Eldrin stared at her, reeling. He felt as though he were in another of his horrible nightmares. How could she be saying these things? His own sister?

  She laid a hand on his bare arm. “Saeral will kill him, Abramm. Just like he killed the others. Then he’ll put you on the throne and the war will start. Gillard will lay claim, and the Shar lords will support him. The Nunn will favor you. They’ll call it a holy war. The realm will be torn apart, thousands will die, and in the end, Beltha’adi will get the spoils.” She paused, studying him, her eyes bright with passion. “You always wanted to be a hero. Well, here’s your chance. Because you are the only one who can stop this.”

  He was drowning in the flood of her words, choking upon the whirling mingle of truth and lies, struggling to get his mind around it all, struggling even to breathe. Apparently she took his silence for acquiescence and plunged on, her lowered voice throbbing with excitement.

  “Raynen’s prepared to offer you a sizable stipend and a vessel of your own. It’s the one I’ll be taking to Thilos, in fact. No one has to know you’re with me; no one should know, in fact. Once we’re there, the boat’s yours, and you will be free to do whatever you want. Travel, see the world, visit all those scholarly places your heart once yearned for …” She smiled. “Have a real life.”

  He stared at her. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the thundering of his own heart and the rustling of the birds in the tree.

  Finally she frowned, pressed her lips together, then stepped back, the emotion bleeding out of her. “He’ll send for you this evening. Think about what I’ve said. Please. For all of us.”

  She ducked under the blossomed branch and hurried down the path, the rustling of her skirt and the crunch of her footsteps quickly swallowed by the birds’ chirping chorus.

  It was several minutes before he moved. Releasing a long, ragged breath, he sagged back onto the bench. Belmir had warned him his resolve would be increasingly tested the closer he got to the final decision. But this had taken him completely by surprise.

  C H A P T E R

  5

  Sunset’s florid light filtered through the horizontal slits high in the coach’s sidewalls, glinting off the hair, nose, and chin of Eldrin’s Haverallan companion. Rhiad sat in silence on the bench across from him, Guardian amulet gleaming on his throat like a scarlet eye.

  Raynen’s summons had arrived an hour ago, and Rhiad himself had brought it to Eldrin, informing him that he would serve as Eldrin’s escort. Relieved as he was not to have to face his brothers alone, Eldrin found the Haverallan’s presence unnerving. Neither of them had spoken since they had boarded the coach at the Keep gates, Rhiad apparently deep in meditation.

  Eldrin knew he should be following the man’s lead, but his mind was hopping around like a sparrow in a tree, too distracted by memories and worries to stay focused.

  He had run through the encounter with Carissa at least a hundred times since she’d left him, arguing with her in his mind, knowing now the things he should have said when shock had held him silent. And yet, every time he reached the suggestion that his brothers’ deaths had not been accidental, his thoughts snagged. He reminded himself that there was no proof, that it was all coincidental and no thinking person could believe otherwise-until the next time he cycled back to the suggestion, and his thoughts snagged again, and he wondered with exasperation what was wrong with him.

  The coach rolled to a stop, and he heard the muted voices of their driver and the palace gate guards. Across from him Rhiad started out of his trance and reached up to adjust the interior lamp, dangling between them from the coach’s ceiling.

  Warm light bloomed across the spartan interior, and as the coach rolled forward again Rhiad fixed his entire attention upon Eldrin. `Are you ready for this?”

  Eldrin shrugged. “I’ve been through it before. Many times.”

  “Things are different now.” The coach leaned slightly as it rounded the circular drive that would take them to the front door.

  “I’ve already made my decision,” Eldrin said. “There’s nothing they can say that will change it.”

  A smile quirked Rhiad’s lips. “Just
keep your wits about you, Brother, and you’ll do fine.”

  The coach slowed, then rocked to a stop in a chorus of creaks. The door opened and a blue-liveried footman stepped back as Eldrin descended into a forgotten world.

  The palace soared around him, ablaze with light, its east and west wings enfolding him like the jaws of a trap. Spires and cupolas jabbed the darkening sky, and rows and rows of golden windows gleamed down at him. As with the Great Sanctum, he had forgotten the size of the place, the intimidation of its grandeur.

  A marble stairway ascended before him, ranks of blue-tabarded House Guard forming a gauntlet through which he must pass to reach the doors at the top. Standing at attention, not one of them looked at him; nevertheless the old aversion to public appearances uncoiled in his middle. For a moment he wanted to climb back into the coach.

  Two men in green detached themselves from the guards’ blue ranks. As one hurried away up the stair the other approached, and Eldrin recognized Captain Meridon immediately, decked out in the dress uniform of the King’s Guard: a badge of crossed white arrows emblazoned on an emerald tabard belted over white blouse and breeches. With his wide-brimmed, whiteplumed hat and short emerald cloak, he looked quite dapper. One golden chain of rank looped across his chest. He still wore the rapier and the ramheaded dirk.

  Eldrin met his gaze uneasily, confirming what he had earlier observedthere was no trace of the sarotis in those cold, dark eyes. Meridon must be newly ensnared.

  They exchanged an awkward greeting as Rhiad came up beside them. Meridon flicked him a glance, followed by a nod that was barely civil, then escorted them up the stair. Inside, courtiers packed the lamplit atrium, a glittering crowd of curling wigs and satin doublets, lace cravats and jeweled rings, beribboned walking sticks and sweeping bell-shaped gowns. The air was thick with the mingle of unwashed bodies and strong perfume, and the hall echoed with excited chatter-chatter that silenced instantly when Eldrin entered and all eyes turned toward him.