They sat in silence for a time after that.
“A noble purpose,” said Calliande at last. “I pray God grants you success.”
“He will if it is His will,” said Hektor. “Though I shall have a greater chance of success with your aid.”
“I have two questions,” said Ridmark.
“Ask, then,” said the King.
“First,” said Ridmark. “Why did Cathala run?” Tamlin stirred at the mention of his mother. “If she grasped the truth, if she understood what had really happened at Cathair Animus, why did she run?”
“I don’t know,” said Hektor. “If you will forgive my bluntness, Tamlin, Cathala was always…willful.” That matched what Michael had said about her. “The Arcanii have always tended towards arrogance, unfortunately, and Cathala’s arrogance was especially lofty. I fear her friendship with Talitha and her relationship with Justin Cyros turned her head. Before the Seven Swords, Justin was the Crown Prince of Cytheria. Once he claimed the Sword of Earth, he killed his father and took the crown of Cytheria for himself, and his true character became apparent.” He looked at Tamlin. “I think she fled to protect you from him. King Justin has raised his other Swordborn sons and daughters as his Ironcoats, his own personal assassins, subjecting them to brutal training.”
“But we don’t know for certain,” said Tamlin in a quiet voice, gazing at the windows. “My mother never told me what happened. And King Justin found her and killed her, and sold me to the dvargir. I don’t know if he even knew if I was his son or not.” He shrugged, his face distant. “If he had, perhaps he would have taken me and raised me as an Ironcoat, and I would be fighting against you even now.”
“I see,” said Ridmark. “A second question, lord King.” Hektor inclined his head. “Why go to such efforts to rescue your brother?”
“Because he is the lawful High King of Owyllain,” said Hektor, raising his gray eyebrows.
“He is,” said Ridmark, “but if you will forgive my bluntness, that may not matter. You’ve led Aenesium and the loyalist cities for twenty-five years, lord King. You might not be the High King, but you have been acting as the High King in truth.”
Rypheus sighed. “Father and I have had this conversation many times.”
“I see,” said Hektor. “I act as I do for three reasons, Lord Ridmark. First, Kothlaric is the true High King, and nothing I can do or say will change that. Second, it is the only way to destroy the Seven Swords. Destroying the Swords will free my brother. Third, the mantle of the High King of Owyllain rests with him.”
Calliande frowned. “Mantle?”
“A mantle of magical power,” said Hektor. “The Guardian Rhodruthain crafted it before he betrayed us, and it has been passed from High King to High King for generations. The mantle grants wisdom and foresight and the ability to discern secrets at a glance. The true High King of Owyllain bears that mantle of power, and until Kothlaric is released, the mantle is sealed with him.” He spread his hands. They were thick and heavy with calluses from sword work. “And I cannot do otherwise. He is my brother and my rightful High King.”
Ridmark nodded. “I can understand that.”
“Another question, King Hektor,” said Calliande. “The Sword of Fire.”
“What about it?” said Hektor.
“Might I examine it?”
Hektor frowned. “I fear you cannot touch it. One of the Seven Swords slays anyone who touches it save for its bearer.”
“I don’t need to touch anything,” said Calliande. “I have the power of the Sight, and that permits me to view magical auras.”
“Truly?” said Rypheus, startled. “I imagine that is quite useful, my lady.”
“Very well,” said Hektor. He stood and drew the Sword of Fire from the scabbard at his belt, the weapon held blade down.
Calliande leaned forward, her blue eyes narrowed, her face tightened with concentration.
Ridmark stared at the Sword as well, though he lacked the facility of the Sight. He had not gotten a close look at the Sword of Life that Rhodruthain had carried, and while he had seen the Sword of Air at far closer range than he would have liked, he had been too busy fighting for his life to note any details.
Now he saw that the Sword of Fire looked identical to the Sword of Life and the Sword of Air, save for its color. Rhodruthain’s blade had been golden, and Calem’s Sword had been silvery, but the Sword of Fire was the deep red-yellow of a flame. The pommel had been adorned with the closed-eye sigil Ridmark had seen on the other two Swords. Ridmark had seen swords of every size and kind, swords forged by every warlike kindred in Andomhaim, but he had never seen a weapon quite like this.
He was not a wizard, and he had no ability to sense magic without using Oathshield. Yet Ridmark felt a crawling sensation as he looked at the drawn Sword, and he knew he was in the presence of great power. The Sword must not have been a weapon of dark magic since Oathshield did not respond to its presence, yet Ridmark found that the thing unsettled him.
Calliande said nothing, her eyes unblinking as she gazed at the Sword.
“What do you think, my lady Calliande?” said Hektor. “Are there such weapons in Andomhaim?”
“The soulblades of the Swordbearers are weapons of great magical power,” murmured Calliande. “They can wound and destroy any creature of dark magic, and their power lets their blades pierce magical wards. Yet their magic is mainly defensive. They cannot command destructive power on the scale of the Seven Swords.”
Hektor nodded. “I fear the Sword of Fire wields deadly power, and it is a grave responsibility. The dark elves who forged this weapon in the deeps of time imbued it with terrible strength.”
Calliande’s frown deepened. “Lord King…I don’t think this weapon was made by the dark elves.”
Hektor blinked. “That is impossible. The dark elves forged these blades.”
Calliande straightened up and looked at him. “I’m not sure…but the magic upon the blade looks dwarven.”
“Dwarven?” said Hektor.
Rypheus looked at his father, and then back at her. “The magic looks…short, you mean?” He seemed thoroughly confused.
“No. The dwarven kindred.” Hektor returned the Sword to its scabbard and sat back down. “The records from Andomhaim speak of them, but we have never encountered any in Owyllain.” He smiled a little. “I suppose you have.”
“Several times,” said Ridmark. Which he supposed was an understatement.
“The magic is complex and powerful beyond anything I’ve ever seen,” said Calliande, “but I am certain that it is dwarven. It reminds me of the magic on the dwarven taalkrazdors.”
“Taalkrazdors?” said Rypheus, stumbling over the strange word. Ridmark couldn’t blame him. It was a mouthful.
“Magical armor,” said Ridmark. “The dwarves forge it and use it in war. One dwarven warrior wearing a taalkrazdor can fight a small army by himself.” A darker memory flashed through his thoughts. “Or a single mighty creature of dark magical power.”
“The magic on the Sword seems akin to that of the dwarven stonescribes,” said Calliande. “It is like a taalkrazdor, but far, far more powerful. If a dwarven smith forged the Sword of Fire and the other Seven Swords, he was a genius beyond compare.”
“But how would dwarven swords have gotten into Urd Maelwyn?” said Tamlin. “I read of the dwarves in the library of the Monastery of St. James, but I didn’t think there were any of that kindred in Owyllain.”
“Perhaps there were, and the Sovereign destroyed them before humans came to this land,” said Calliande. “Humans have only been here for five centuries. Based on what Kyralion told us, the Sovereign was here for nearly fifteen thousand years. That is ample time to destroy a dwarven city or kingdom.”
“A more important question, I think,” said Ridmark, “is why the Sovereign didn’t use the Swords himself.”
“What do you mean, Lord Ridmark?” said Rypheus.
“High King Kothlaric defeated and slew
the Sovereign,” said Ridmark. “The Sovereign had to have known that he was about to die. Why did he not use the Swords to defend himself?”
“Perhaps he could not,” said Rypheus.
Calliande shook her head. “I see no reason why he could not. There is nothing on the Swords to prevent a dark elven noble from wielding them.” She shrugged. “Maybe they would have interfered with his own magic.”
“I have wondered that myself,” said Hektor, adjusting the Sword in its scabbard. “I fear I have no answer for you. The Sovereign was a brilliant warrior and captain, but perhaps he miscalculated at the end. The Maledicti worshipped him as their god, but he was not infallible.”
“Speaking of that,” said Calliande, “I have a question myself.” Hektor inclined his head. “Do you know anything about this New God that Archaelon and Khurazalin claimed to serve?”
“I do not, much to my annoyance,” said Hektor. “Tamlin told me the story soon after he became one of my Companion knights, but I thought it only the final words of a dying woman. But if both Archaelon and Khurazalin spoke of the New God, and the gray elves fear their Kratomachar…it seems clear that a new dark power is coming to Owyllain.” He spread his hands. “You see that we need your help, Lord Ridmark, perhaps even more than we thought.”
“Very well,” said Ridmark. He glanced at Calliande, and she nodded, her expression grave. She had come to the same conclusion. “If you can help us reach Cathair Animus, then we shall help you against the other bearers of the Seven Swords.”
“I am glad to hear of it,” said Hektor. “I thank you, my lord and lady. Truly, your aid is a blessing unlooked for. If you march with us against King Justin, we shall have a far greater hope of victory.”
“My family has a far better chance of getting home with your aid than we would alone,” said Ridmark.
“I agree,” said Hektor. “I am glad we have come to an accord. There is, however, one final matter we must discuss, one of some delicacy.”
“What is it?” said Calliande.
“Of dissension,” said Rypheus.
Ridmark frowned, watching the King and the Crown Prince. “Please explain.”
“Owyllain has been at war for twenty-five years,” said Hektor. “Longer, if we include the final wars against the Sovereign. Many have wearied of it, and some have come to believe that they would be better living as slaves beneath the rule of the Confessor or King Justin. To be blunt, you possess power unequaled by anyone else save the bearers of the Seven Swords. You might prove a rallying point for rebellion or treachery.”
“I have no wish to undermine your rule,” said Ridmark.
“I know that,” said Hektor, “and I think it would be best if you were to make a statement in support of that.”
“What manner of statement?” said Ridmark.
“Taking one of my daughters as your first concubine would be an excellent way to show you have no intention of moving against me,” said Hektor.
Ridmark said nothing. He saw Calliande’s fingers tighten against her staff.
“I am aware that it is not the custom of the men of Andomhaim to take concubines,” said Hektor, “but it is a centuries-old custom here, and there are well-established rights and duties for the husband, the wife, and the concubine. Without them, Owyllain would have collapsed long ago, or our population would have withered away since not enough children would have been born.”
“I am flattered, lord King,” said Ridmark, “but I will not take a concubine.”
Hektor raised his eyebrows. “Not even Lady Kalussa? She seems quite fond of you…and I fear my daughter is a difficult woman to impress.”
Rypheus snorted. “Though why any man would want to endure her tongue, I’ll never know.”
“Rypheus,” said Hektor. “Be kind to your sister.”
Something flashed in Rypheus’s dark eyes. “Half-sister.” He took a long breath. “But as you say, Father.”
“I was under the impression,” said Ridmark, “that you had forbidden Kalussa from taking a husband since her powers were needed in the war.”
“I did,” said Hektor. “It grieved me to do so, but war makes its demands of all the sons and daughters of Owyllain. I must view such matters as a king, not as a father. If you take Kalussa as a concubine, that will show beyond all doubt that you do not wish to undermine the House of Pendragon. The kings and knights of Owyllain have often given their daughters…”
“And unwanted half-sisters,” said Rypheus.
Hektor continued as if his son hadn’t spoken. “As concubines to each other. It is the surest way of making an alliance between nobles, for God hates the man who spills his brother’s blood beyond all other men. I realize it is an uncomfortable thought for you, but you needn’t even lie with Kalussa at all if you wish. Or you can only lie with her until she is with child. Are not sons and daughters a blessing? Surely you would welcome more.” He smiled. “As vexing as my children have been, they are one of my chief sources of joy, all thirty-seven of them.”
“Have I no say in this matter?” said Calliande. Her voice was calm, her face the serene mask of the Keeper, but Ridmark knew she was angry.
And frightened. She feared that Ridmark would accept Hektor’s offer, or that he would abandon her entirely for the younger woman. Ridmark looked at the King of Aenesium, and a pulse of rage went through him. Calliande had suffered enough in her life, and Ridmark had no wish to cause her any further pain.
Not for any reason. Not even if Ridmark had to take Calliande and the children and leave Aenesium before the sun went down.
Hektor looked surprised. “Surely it would be a desirable arrangement for you as well, my lady. A concubine must obey the wife. Lady Kalussa would be glad to do so – she is in awe of you after Castra Chaeldon. She could help you look after your sons. And, if you will forgive my bluntness, it is common for a wife’s desire to fade while a husband’s remains unchanged. My daughter could help lift that burden from you as well.”
Calliande said nothing, but the knuckles shone white against her skin as she gripped her staff.
“King Hektor,” said Ridmark, “I know you are offering me a great honor, and I am sensible of that. Kalussa is a brave woman, and she did not turn and run from the undead or from Archaelon. I wish her long life and many years of happiness. But I swore an oath before God and the realm of Andomhaim to remain faithful to Calliande until death.” Actually, it had been God and Brother Caius and Lady Third of Nightmane Forest, but Hektor didn’t need to know that. “I intend to keep that oath, regardless of the cost.”
Calliande’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, and that shocked Ridmark more than anything else that had happened today.
She never, ever let her self-control waver when dealing with kings and nobles and knights as the Keeper, and in the ten years he had known her and the eight that they had been married, he had never once known her to lose control when performing her duties as Keeper.
Kalussa’s attention and King Hektor’s offer had bothered her far more than she had let on.
Hektor inclined his head. “Lord Ridmark, my offer is not meant as an insult, but…”
Calliande stood up and took a shuddering breath. She stood up so fast and so violently that her staff banged against the wooden table, and the glass vase wobbled and fell to the floor.
It shattered into a thousand pieces.
###
Tamlin watched the conversation with growing unease.
He could tell that Calliande did not like this discussion of a concubine at all. Despite what Kalussa had said to him, Tamlin understood more of women than she thought, and he knew full well that most of the women of Owyllain would have preferred not to share their husbands with concubines, that it was a situation forced upon the realm by centuries of bloody war.
To Ridmark and Calliande, unused it to the custom, it would have seemed unthinkable.
And Tamlin knew Ridmark would not accept. No matter what Calliande feared, no matt
er what Hektor offered, Ridmark would not take Kalussa as a concubine. Tamlin knew that Ridmark would not because Tamlin had come to realize that Ridmark loved Calliande the way that Tamlin had once loved Tysia. It didn’t matter that Calliande might have been too ill or too injured to lie with him. In Ridmark’s eyes, taking a concubine would be a betrayal, and he would refuse to betray his wife.
Even if he had to go to war with Hektor Pendragon right then and there.
God and the saints, why could the King not realize that? Perhaps Tamlin could speak with Hektor and convince him of sense once this was over.
Then Calliande stood up, her staff banging against the table. That ugly glass vase that Zuredek had bought somewhere wobbled and fell, shattering against the floor.
Tamlin shot to his feet and stared at the shards, a dark memory swimming through his mind.
Green.
The glass vase had been green…
“Tamlin, I’m sorry,” said Calliande. “I…I stood up to catch my breath, and I lost my balance…”
“It was an ugly thing,” Tamlin heard himself say, staring at the glittering green shards.
“Tamlin?” said Calliande. At once the pain vanished from her expression, and she was the Keeper once more, responding to a potential threat. “What’s wrong?”
“When the green glass shatters,” said the Dark Lady in his memory, “the servants of the New God will come for you again.”
“That was what she meant,” said Tamlin, his hand falling to his sword hilt as he called magical power.
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