Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 08

by A Tapestry of Lions (v1. 0)

  "The Firstborn."

  "Cynric." Gavan's eyes were bright. "So your jehan has prophesied."

  Kellin did not desire to discuss his jehan. "Had I not received my lir, what would have happened? Would you have questioned my right to inherit?"

  "Certainly clan-council would have met to discuss it formally at some point."

  "Would you have questioned it?" Suddenly, it mattered. It mattered very much. "Would the Cheysuli have rejected my claim to the Lion?"

  "The Mujhar is in no danger of giving up his claim any time soon." Gavan smiled. "He is a strong man, and in sound health."

  "Aye." Kellin's nerves frayed further. It seemed no matter how careful he was, how meticulous his phrasing, he could not get the answer he wanted; yet at the same time he knew what the answer was, and dreaded it. "Gavan—" He felt sweat sting a scrape on one temple as the droplet ran down beneath a lock of hair. "Would the Cheysuli accept a lirless Mujhar?"

  Gavan did not hesitate. "Now? No. There is no question of it. We are too close to fulfillment .. . a lirless Cheysuli would prove a true danger to the prophecy. We cannot afford to support a Mujhar who lacks the most fundamental of all Cheysuli gifts. It would provide the Ihlini an opportunity to destroy us forever."

  "Of course." The words were ash. If he opened his mouth too widely, he would spew it like a dismantled firecairn.

  Gavan laughed. Yellow eyes were bright and amused, and wholly inoffensive. "If you are feeling unworthy in the aftermath of bonding, it is a natural thing. The gift—and the power that comes with it—is entirely humbling." He arched black brows. "Even for Mujhars—and men who will be Mujhar."

  All of Kellin's anticipated arguments in favor of severing the partial bond with Sima evaporated.

  He would get no understanding from Gavan; likely, he would get nothing even remotely approaching sympathy. He would simply be stricken from the birthlines and summarily removed from the succession.

  Leaving no one. "Blais," he said abruptly. "There was a time when some warriors wanted Blais to be named prince in my place."

  "That was many years ago."

  Kellin felt the dampness of perspiration stipple his upper lip. He wanted-to brush it dry, but to do so would call attention to his desperation. "The a'saii still exist, do they not? Somewhere in Homana, separate from here . . . they still desire to make their own tahlmorras without benefit of the prophecy."

  Gavan lifted his cup of honey brew. "There are always heretics."

  Kellin watched him drink. If Blais had survived— He put it into words. "If Blais had survived, and I had gained no lir, would he have been named to the Lion?"

  Gavan's eyes were steady. "In lieu of a proper heir, there would have been no other. But such a thing would have delayed completion for another generation, perhaps more. Blais lacked the Solindish and Atvian bloodlines. It would have taken time—more time than we have. - . ." Gavan drank, then set aside his cup. "But what profit in this, Kellin? You are a warrior. You have a lir. It falls to you, now, without question. It all falls to you."

  Coals crumbled in the firecairn. Illumination wavered, then stilled. It glowed in Gavan's eyes.

  "Too heavy," Kellin murmured, swallowing tightly.

  Gavan laughed aloud. A hand indicated Sima.

  "No burden is too heavy if there is a lir to help you bear it."

  Twelve

  Though offered a place in Clankeep, Kellin did not accept it. There was something else he wanted—needed—to do; something he should have done years before. He had avoided it with a steadfast intransigence, taking a quiet, vicious pleasure in the wrong done him because it fanned the flames of rebellion. A part of him knew very well that without what he perceived as true cause, his defiance might yet be warped into something other than a natural maturing of personality. He was expected to be different from others because of his heritage and rank; hot temper and hasty words were often overlooked because of who he was.

  That in itself sometimes forced him to more rebellion because he needed to provoke a response that would mitigate self-contempt.

  He knew very well what the mountain cat said was right. He was too angry, and had been for years. But he knew its cause; it was hardly his fault. A motherless infant prince willingly deserted by a father had little recourse to other emotions. Kellin stood outside the pavilion. Like Gavan's, it also bore a fox painted on its sides, though the base color was blue instead of saffron. The pavilion was difficult to see in the darkness; moonlight was obscured by clustered trees and overhanging branches. The Cheysuli had moved Clankeep after the Ihlini attack, for a part of the forest had burned. Only rain a day or two later had prevented more destruction.

  Accost him now, just after awakening, so he has no time to marshal defenses or rhetoric. Kellin drew in a deep breath that expanded sore ribs, then called through the closed doorflap that he desired to see the shar tahl.

  A moment only, and then a hand drew aside the flap so that the man stood unobstructed. He wore leather in place of robes, and lir-gold weighted his arms. He was alert; Kellin thought perhaps the man had not been asleep after all.

  "Aye?" And then the warrior's expression altered. An ironic arch lifted black brows. "I should have expected this. You would not come all the times I invited you in the daylight . . . this suits your character."

  It sparked an instant retort. "You know nothing about my character!"

  The older man considered it. "That is true," he said at last. "What I know of you—now—has to do with the tales they tell." He widened the doorflap. "By your expression, this is not intended to be a sanguine visit. Well enough—I had gathered by your continued silence you did not accept my offers of aid as anything other than insult."

  "Not insult," Kellin said. "Unnecessary."

  "Ah." The man was in his late fifties, not so much younger than the Mujhar. Thick hair grayed heavily, but the flesh of his face was still taut, and his eyes were intent. "But now there is necessity."

  Kellin did not look at Sima. He simply pointed to her. "I want to be rid of that."

  "Rid?" The shar tahl's irony evaporated. "Come in," he said curtly.

  Kellin ducked in beside him. Hostility banished the dullness engendered by Gavan's honey brew; nerves made him twitchy. He stood aside in stiff silence as the shar tahl permitted the mountain cat to enter.

  He waited edgily. There were many things he wanted to say, and he anticipated multiple pointed responses designed to dissuade him. The shar tahl would no more understand his desire than Gavan would have; the difference was, Kellin was better prepared to withstand anything the shar tahl might suggest by way of argument. He disliked the man. Dislike lent him the strength of will to defy a man whose service was to the gods, and to the preservation of tradition within the clans.

  "Be seated," the shar tahl said briefly. Then, to Sima, "You are well come to my pavilion."

  The cat lay down. Her tail thumped once. Then she stilled, huge eyes fixed on Kellin.

  With a grimace of impatience, Kellin sat down.

  Neither food nor drink was offered; tacit insult, designed to tell him a thing or two. Then we are well matched. I have things to say as well.

  "So." The older man's expression was closed, severe in its aloofness. "You want to be rid of your lir. Since it is well known you had none, I can only assume this is a very recent bonding."

  "Aye, very recent; last night." Pointedly, Kellin added, "When I was a captive of the Ihlini."

  The shar tahl's expression did not alter; he seemed fixed upon a single topic. "Yet now you wish to sever that bond."

  Kellin's hands closed into fists against crossed legs. "Does it mean nothing to you that the Prince of Homana was captured by the Ihlini, and less that he escaped?"

  The shar tahl's mouth tightened minutely. "We will speak of that later. At this moment the Prince of Homana's desire to sever what the gods have made for him is of greater concern."

  "Because it has to do with gods, and you are a shar tahl." Kellin did n
ot bother to hide the derision in his tone. "By all means let us discuss that which you believe of more import; after all, what is the welfare of Homana's future Mujhar compared to his desire to renounce a gift of the gods?"

  "Yet if you renounce this bond, there is no more need to concern ourselves with the welfare of Homana's future Mujhar, as he would no longer be heir." The shar tahl's eyes burned brightly. "But you know that. I can see it in your face." He nodded slightly. "So you have been to Gaven already and what you have heard does not please you. Therefore I must assume this meeting is meant merely to air your grievance, though you know very well nothing can come of it. You cannot renounce the lir-bond, lest you be stripped of your rank. And you would never permit that; it would echo your jehan's actions."

  Kellin's response was immediate. "I did not come to speak of my jehan.”

  "But we will." The older man's tone allowed no room for protest. "We should have had this conversation years ago."

  "We will not have it now. My Jehan has nothing to do with this."

  '"Your jehan has much to do with this. His desertion of you has to do with everything in your life."

  "Enough."

  "I have hardly begun."

  "Then I will end it!" Kellin glared at the man. "I am still the Prince of Homana. My rank is higher than yours."

  "Is it?" Black brows arched. "I think not. Not in the eyes of the gods .. . ah, of course—you do not recognize their sovereignty." The shar tahl lifted a quelling hand. "In fact, you detest them because you believe they stole your Jehan from you."

  Much as he longed to, Kellin knew better than to shout. To give in to such a display was to weaken his position. "He was meant to be the heir. Not I. Not yet; my time was meant for later. They did steal him."

  "A warrior follows his tahlmorra."

  "Or obstructs the prophecy?" Kellin shook his head. "I think what they say of him is true: he is mad. No madman bases his actions on what is real. He does as he does because his mind is addled."

  "Aidan's mind is no more addled than your own," the shar tahl retorted. "In fact, some would argue it is more sane than yours."

  "Mine!"

  The warrior smiled grimly. "Your reputation precedes you."

  For only an instant Kellin was silent. Then he laughed aloud, letting the sound ml the pavilion.

  "Because I drink? Because I wager? Because I lie with whores?" The laughter died, but the grin was undiminished. "These actions appear to be a tradition within my family. Shall I name you the names? Brennan, Hart, Corin—"

  "Enough." The irony was banished. "You came because you wish to renounce your lir. Allow me to do my office. Bide a moment, my lord." The shar tahl rose abruptly and moved to the doorflap.

  He ducked out, leaving Kellin alone with a silent black mountain cat. After a moment the priest returned and resumed his seat. His smile was humorless. "How may I serve my lord?"

  Kellin's impatience faded. Hostility dissipated.

  If the man could aid him, he had best mend his manner. "The bonding was done hastily, to enable me to escape the Ihlini. Even she admits it." He did not glance at Sima. "She speaks of balance, and the danger in lacking it. I have none."

  The shar tahl now was serious. "You assumed lir-shape in anger?"

  "In anger, fear, panic." Kellin sighed; the vestiges of pride and hostility faded utterly. Quietly, he explained what had happened—and how he had killed a man by tearing out his throat.

  The dark flesh by the older man's eyes folded upon itself. His eyes seemed to age. "A harsh bonding. But more than that, an improper one. It is only half done."

  "Half?" Kellin looked at the cat. "Do you mean I could renounce her?"

  "No. Not safely. Your lirlessness is ended; half-bonded or no, you will never be what you were. The question now is, what will you permit yourself to be?"

  Alarm bloomed. "What do you mean?"

  "You are angry," the shar tahl said. "I perhaps understand it better than most—your jehan and I have shared many confidences." The severity of the face now was replaced with a human warmth that nearly unmanned Kellin. "Aidan and I have spent much time together. It was why I desired to speak with you before, to explain his reasoning."

  "Let him explain it!"

  The shar tahl sighed. "The proper time is not yet come."

  Bitterness engulfed. "There never will be a 'proper time'!" Kellin cried. "That is the point!"

  "No." The shar tahl lifted a hand, then let it drop. "That is not the point. There will come a time, I promise -- when the gods intend that you should meet."

  "When he intends, you mean .. . and he never will." Kellin gathered himself to rise- "This is bootless. It wastes my time."

  "Sit down." The tone was a whipcrack. "You have come to me with a serious concern that needs to be addressed. Set aside your hatred and hostility long enough, if you will, to permit me to explain that you are in grave danger."

  "I have escaped the Ihlini."

  "This has nothing to do with the Ihlini. This has to do with yourself. It is of the balance I speak."

  The shar tahl glanced at Sima. "Has she explained what could happen?"

  "That I might be locked in beast-form if I lose my balance?" Kellin's mouth twisted. "Aye. After she urged me to take lir-shape."

  "Then she must have believed it necessary." The shar tahl studied Sima with something very akin to sympathy, which seemed an odd thing to Kellin; the lir were considered far wiser than their warriors. "The lir are proscribed from attacking Ihlini. If she urged you to assume lir-shape before the proper time, fully cognizant of the risk, it was because she believed it necessary to preserve your life." The yellow eyes were intent. "The life has been preserved. Now we must insure that the mind within the body is preserved as well."

  "Burr—" Kellin cut it off. It was time for truth, not protest. Defiance crumbled in the face of his admission. "I have resented you for years."

  "I know." The shar tahl reached for a jug and cups, then poured two full. "Drink. What you must know will dry your mouth; wet it first, and then we shall begin."

  "Can I learn it by dawn?"

  "A thing so vital as this cannot be learned in a night. It requires years." Burr sipped his honey brew. "A young warrior is taught from the day of his birth how to strike the balance in all things. We are a proud race, we Cheysuli, and surpassingly arrogant—" Burr smiled, "—because we are, after all, the children of the gods .. . but we are not an angry race, nor one much given to war except when it is required. The Homanans have called us beasts and predators, but it is because of what we can do with our bodies, not our desire for blood. We are a peaceful race. That desire for peace—in mind as well as lifestyle—is taught from birth. By the time a young man reaches the age to receive a lir, his knowledge of self-control is well-rooted. His longing for a lir supercedes the recklessness of youth—no young Cheysuli would risk the wrath of the gods that might result in lirlessness."

  "Is that true?" Kellin asked. "You are a shar tahl—would the gods deny a boy a lir because he does not suit their idea of a well-behaved Cheysuli?"

  Burr laughed. "You are the most defiant and reckless of Cheysuli I have ever known. Yet there is the proof that the gods do as they will." A hand indicated Sima. "You have your place, Kellin. You have a tahlmorra. Now it is your task to acknowledge the path before you."

  "And take it?"

  "If it is what the gods intend."

  "Gods," Kellin muttered. "They clutter up a life. They bind a man's spirit so he cannot do as he will."

  "You, I believe, are a perfect example of the fallacy in that logic. You do—and have always done—precisely as you desire." Burr sipped liquor, then set the cup aside. "You must fully accept your lir. To remain half-bonded sentences both of you to a life to which no man—or lir—should ever be subjected."

  "Madness," Kellin said. He worked a trapped twig from the weave of soiled breeches. "What if I told you I believed it was arrant nonsense, this belief that lirlessness results in madn
ess? That I believe it is no more than a means for a man's misplaced faith in his gods to control him, or destroy him?"

  Burr smiled. "You would not be the first to suggest that. In fact, if you were not the heir to the Lion and therefore assured of your place, I would say your defiance and determination resembles the a'saii." He drank, watching Kellin over the rim of his cup. "It is not easy for a man to accept that one moment he is in the fullness of his prime, healthy and strong, while the next he is sentenced to the death-ritual despite his continued health and strength. It is the true test of what we are, Kellin; do you know of any other race which willingly embraces death when there appears to be no reason to die?"

  "No. No other race is so ludicrously constrained by the gods." Kellin shook his head, tapping the twig against his knee. "It is a waste. Burr! Just as kin-wrecking is!"

  "That. I agree with," Burr said. "Once, the custom had its place .. . there was a need, Kellin."

  "To cast out a man because he was maimed?" Kellin shook his head. "The loss of a hand does not render a man incapable of serving his clan or his kin."

  "Once, it might have. If a one-handed warrior failed, because of his infirmity, to protect a single life, he was a detriment. There was a time we dared not permit such a risk, lest our people die out entirely."

  Kellin gestured. "Enough. I am speaking now of the death-ritual. I contend it is nothing more than a means of control, a method by which the gods—and shar tahls, perhaps?—" he grinned in arch contempt, "—can force others to do their will."

  Burr was silent. His eyes were partially hidden behind lowered lashes. Kellin thought perhaps he might at last have provoked the older man into anger, but when Burr at last met his eyes there was nothing of anger in his expression. "What the gods have required of men is duty, honor, reverence—"

  "And self-sacrifice!"

  "—and sacrifice." Burr finished. "Aye. I deny none of it. But if we had not offered any of these things, Kellin, you would not be seated here before me contesting the need for such service."

  "Words!" Kellin snapped. "You are as bad as the Ihlini. You weave magic with words, to ensorcell me to your will."