The Jackal of Nar

by John Marco

  Richius smoothed down the wave in his hair and squared his shoulders. The bouquet of scarlet dahlias in his fist looked meager amid the bounty. It had been a long time since he'd romanced a girl, and he wondered if the token would be appreciated. She was, after all, a princess, and doubtless accustomed to suitors. He fought to still his nervousness. If only Dinadin could see him now.

  Finally, his courage cresting, he stepped out from behind the statue. At once the tiny bird in Sabrina's hand took flight. She turned abruptly to face him.

  "I'm sorry," said Richius softly. "I didn't mean to startle you, or your friend."

  "You didn't startle me, my lord," she answered. "I was waiting for you."

  Richius moved forward, her smile encouraging him closer. He offered the small bouquet for her inspection.

  "Count Biagio told me you were fond of flowers," he said. "I thought you might like some of your own."

  She cooed appreciatively and took the bouquet, dropping her nose into the blossoms. "Ooohh, thank you, my lord. They're beautiful."

  "I'm glad you like them. I was worried you might have a room full of them by now. You made quite a stir at my coronation, you know. I think more people were looking at you than me!"

  "Oh, no, my lord, I'm sure you're wrong. Most people know by now that I'm to be yours."

  She stopped, catching herself, and an awkward silence rose up between them. Dutifully she looked away, casting her eyes back to the flowers. Richius was relieved she had said it first. Perhaps she was already comfortable with the idea, and he would be spared the horrible ordeal of explaining it to her. In the matter of their marriage, neither of them had a choice.

  "You look cold," he said gently. "We can go inside if you like."

  She shook her head. "I enjoy the winter, my lord."

  Richius moved in a little closer, so that only a hairbreadth separated them, and waited for Sabrina to pull away. She did not.

  "This weather reminds me of Aramoor," he said. "I miss it. Do you miss Gorkney?"

  Sabrina wrinkled her forehead pensively, then shrugged. "A bit," she said. "But it's also good to be away. There are some things about Gorkney I shall not miss at all. And I've heard that Aramoor is much like my home." She paused, looking back down at the bouquet. Her smile vanished as she said, "I want to apologize for my rudeness at your coronation, my lord. I behaved badly, and I'm ashamed."

  "Ashamed?" asked Richius. "Of what?"

  "Please. There's no need to spare my feelings. I don't deserve it. The way I slighted you was deplorable, and I'm afraid I don't have a very good explanation for you. But we weren't supposed to meet until after you had heard about our marriage, and I was startled. I didn't know what to do, so I ignored you. I'm very sorry."

  "I understand. I was able to guess why you acted that way. You knew when we met in the forest that you were coming here to marry me, didn't you?"

  Sabrina nodded. "I've known about it for months," she said. "Since my sixteenth birthday. An emissary came to Gorkney with the news. He told my father that the emperor had chosen me to be your wife, and that I was to be in Nar for your coronation."

  "And I thought my trip here was only for my king-making," said Richius. "I'm sorry this has happened to you, my lady. It must have been quite a surprise for you and your father."

  "My father?" said Sabrina bitterly. "You needn't worry about his feelings, my lord. A daughter's not much use to a man with acres of land to tend. He'd been waiting years for that messenger."

  Richius said nothing. She turned away from him again, the long stems of the flowers slackening in her grip. Awkwardly he took her hand.

  "I'm not sure what type of husband I'll make," he said. "Living with me might be no better than living with your father."

  "Forgive me, my lord. I seem to be doing nothing but offending you, don't I? Truly I mean no insult. I talk too much. Perhaps that's why my father wanted to be rid of me."

  "Is that why he sent you here without a proper escort? Because he cares so little for you? Maybe I shouldn't say so, my lady, but your father sounds like a scoundrel. I can't imagine any man not being pleased with so beautiful and gracious a daughter."

  Sabrina brightened a little at the compliment. "You're kind to say so, my lord. But I was escorted here safely."

  "By one driver," said Richius, recalling the brooding giant he had met in the forest. "It was foolish of your father to send you all this way without enough men to guard you. You could have been robbed, even killed."

  Sabrina shrugged. "But I wasn't, so you can stop worrying about me now, my lord. You'll soon find that I'm quite good at looking after myself."

  "Indeed? Well then, I'm surprised you let your father send anyone at all with you."

  "You don't understand. Dason's more than just a driver. He's my friend. We look after one another."

  "He does seem to need you," Richius agreed. "I saw how you cared for him at the coronation."

  "We've needed each other," Sabrina corrected. "Dason's been my only friend since I can remember. He can be difficult at times, I know, but he's a good man with a good heart. I'll miss him."

  "Do you want to have him with you?" asked Richius. "You may bring him along to Aramoor, my lady. I'm sure we could find work for him there. If he's so special to you, I don't see why you should leave him."

  Sabrina grimaced. "You're very kind, aren't you?" she said. "Believe me, I would have asked that favor if it were possible. But Dason is a slave, and my father owns his collar, not I."

  "Then we shall buy him back for you, give him his freedom. We have no slaves in Aramoor, but I can't imagine him costing us more than a few strong horses."

  "Whatever you offer won't be enough," said Sabrina. "My father won't release him, not even for a score of horses."

  "Why not?"

  She looked at him squarely and said, "Because my father is a heartless dragon, my lord. He has never released a slave, and has vowed he never will. And he certainly wouldn't release one simply because I wished it."

  "Oh, but that's absurd," said Richius. "Why would he be so cruel as to deny you this? He may call it a wedding gift if he pleases."

  Sabrina's laughter rang through the garden. "I'm sorry, my lord," she managed. "You really don't know anything about my father, do you? He doesn't give gifts and he grants no favors. Especially to women."

  Richius frowned. "Your father sounds like a fool. It's hard to believe he managed to raise so fine a daughter."

  "I'm more like my mother," Sabrina agreed. "But thank you for your offer. It was very generous."

  "I've spent the last few days trying to think of ways to make this easier for you, my lady. I want you to be happy in Aramoor."

  "Well, I do, too," said Sabrina easily. "But what about you, my lord? Are you happy? You haven't had much time to adjust to the idea. How do you feel about this marriage?"

  "Honestly, I don't know yet. I hadn't intended to marry for a long time, if ever. But you are truly beautiful, and I can't imagine any man not being pleased with you."

  Sabrina smiled, seemingly content with his answer. "We're both afraid," she said, "but maybe that's a good thing. When I first heard about you I thought you might be horrible, someone who would think little better of me than my father does. But I see now you're not like that at all. I knew when I first met you that you were kind and that I wouldn't need to fear you."

  "Fear me?" said Richius. "God, no. I want this to be pleasant for you, if it can be. And you won't be alone in Aramoor. There are many others your age in the castle...."

  Richius stopped himself, suddenly embarrassed. He was talking to Sabrina as if she were a little girl worried about finding playmates. Yet in many ways she was that child. She was alone and frightened and about to lose the only friend she had in the world. And she was trusting him to take care of her. He thought about Blackwood Gayle, and how he could never satisfy this young woman's needs. And he thought of Dyana. He had promised her much the same things he was now promising Sabrina: a ho
me, security, a place to be welcomed. That promise he had broken. He was suddenly determined not to forsake another.

  Sabrina took his hand again. "Come," she said, leading him through the garden. "Let's walk together."

  Quietly they moved through the flowers, avoiding each other's eyes. Soon they reached the edge of the balcony and stared out over the sprawling metropolis. Already Nar's eastern edges were dark with night. A smoky pall curtained the horizon, obscuring the newborn moon, and a murky silence floated in the air. Only the thrumming of the city's incinerators reached them on their lofty perch. The breath caught in Richius' throat, the way it always did when he looked on Nar.

  "Amazing," he said softly. "I always heard about Nar when I was a boy, but I never knew it would be like this."

  Sabrina seemed to shudder. "It frightens me," she said. "I think it's ugly."

  "Yes, it's as ugly as death. But it is amazing, too, don't you think?"

  "It's nothing like Gorkney."

  "No," said Richius. "Nor like Aramoor. I'll certainly have some tales to tell them back home. This place is so vast!"

  Sabrina turned up her nose in disgust. "I don't care for such big cities. I was in Goss when I was small. Even that frightened me. I can still remember all the noise and the strange people, my father arguing with the vendors in the street. It was too overwhelming for me."

  "Then Aramoor should suit you well. We'll miss the winter, but the spring there is beautiful. Everybody goes riding in the springtime."

  "Everybody?" asked Sabrina thinly.

  Richius grinned. "Indeed, my lady. Even little children take to horses in Aramoor. I know you can't ride yet, but I'll teach you. You'll really have to learn if you want to fit in. And there's the ocean, too. It's not a big shore really, but it's rocky and pretty, like Gorkney probably. We've even a few boats if you like that sort of thing, and the Iron Mountains. Really, my lady, you'll love it."

  "Yes," she said dreamily. "It sounds wonderful."

  "It is," said Richius. "It's the best place I know. Mind you, I haven't really been many places, but I've never seen anything to rival Aramoor."

  A crushing melancholy came over him suddenly. He had almost forgotten the dark business that awaited him back home. He let his hand slip out of Sabrina's.

  "My lord?" asked Sabrina. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm sorry," said Richius. "I shouldn't be talking like this to you. Aramoor might not turn out to be as grand as I say."

  "I'm sure it's lovely."

  "You misunderstand. There's something you don't know yet, something I have to tell you."

  Sabrina's faced blanched. "What is it?"

  "I'm talking of Aramoor as if it's some place you'd want to be, but it could just as easily be another prison for you, my lady. There is to be war with the Triin again, and I'm supposed to lead it."

  "Oh, no," said Sabrina, her hands going to her face. "Why?"

  "It is Arkus' will. I'm to prepare us for war in the spring, as soon as we return home."

  "But why?" Sabrina asked again. "Why now, when we're to be married?"

  "Believe me, my lady, I don't wish it. But I'm powerless. We're the only nation bordering Lucel-Lor, the only ones who can do it."

  "That's preposterous. Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but everyone knows Aramoor couldn't possibly defeat the Triin. The emperor must be mad."

  "Oh, indeed he is," said Richius. "But there's something in Lucel-Lor he wants, and I'm to be his message boy." He stopped, struck by Sabrina's expression. There was real worry etched on her face.

  "I'm afraid for you," she said. "I've heard about these Triin. They're sorcerers. You could be killed."

  "Here now," said Richius. "Don't think so blackly. I survived Lucel-Lor once and I intend to do it again. And we won't be alone. Arkus has promised me command of his legions. This time it will be different."

  "Do you really think so?" asked Sabrina. There was a spark of hope in her tone that Richius couldn't bear to extinguish.

  "Of course," he lied. "Tharn himself couldn't possibly stand against such might. Perhaps I shouldn't have even told you about it yet. The war probably won't last more than a few weeks anyway."

  '"Now you're sparing my feelings," said Sabrina. "There's no way another war with the Drol could end so quickly, and you know it. Please don't comfort me with lies, my lord. You're afraid, too. I can see it."

  Richius gave a wan smile. "You see very clearly," he said. He sighed and rested his hands on the balcony's stone railing. "I am afraid. I swore I'd never go back to that place. I lost so many friends there, so many good young men. How am I supposed to do it all again?"

  "Refuse him," said Sabrina. "What the emperor is asking is insane. You must make him see that."

  "I cannot. I've tried, but he won't listen. Damn him to hell, Sabrina. I am trapped!"

  He ended his rant just as a sentry stepped into the garden. The soldier wore the familiar black of Nar, almost invisible in the shadows of the broad-leafed vines.

  "There's no trouble here," said Richius. "Leave us."

  The soldier hesitated for a moment, watching them. A malevolent grin flashed across his face. Then he moved away, just as quietly as he had come, and disappeared. Enraged, Richius moved after him.

  "Yes," he cried. "Go and tell your masters what I've said. Tell them--"

  Sabrina's hand shot up and silenced him. "My lord, don't! I've seen these sentries everywhere. They'll hear you." She took him by the arm, leading him back toward the railing. "It won't do you any good."

  "You're right," said Richius. "I should be silent. I've already agreed to it, and what's done is done. I only hope I can keep you from the danger of it, my lady. If the Drol attack us through the mountains..."

  "I'm not worried about myself," said Sabrina. "And I don't want you troubling yourself over me, either. Look after your men and whatever else you need to when we get to Aramoor. I'll stay out of your way."

  Richius shook his head. "I won't bring you home to be a kitchen wench, my lady. There will be time enough for war, but only one homecoming for you. I want it to be special. I've already sent word to my steward that I will be returning in the spring with a wife. He'll make everything ready for your arrival."

  "Then we are to be married before going to Aramoor?"

  Richius' eyebrows went up. "How much do you know, my lady?"

  "Almost nothing. I've only spoken to Count Biagio about it, and he told me that plans were being made."

  "Well then," said Richius wryly. "You'd better start arranging things. We're to be married in two weeks."

  Sabrina went ashen. "Two weeks?" she shrieked, suddenly full of youthful ire. "And no one told me about it? But I haven't had any time to prepare! I have no gown, no attendants...."

  "Easy," said Richius. "I've asked Biagio for it to be a small wedding, very quiet. You and I and only a few of my closest companions will be there. Of course, anyone you want to invite is welcome. Perhaps your driver?"

  "Yes," Sabrina agreed. "Dason should be there. I won't have much time to see him after that. But what about everything else? What will I wear? I don't know anyone here in Nar. Who will help me prepare?"

  "Biagio probably has that all arranged. But I will ask him if you wish, just to be sure."

  "Please," said Sabrina. "I suppose we're to be married by Naren priests, then?"

  Richius nodded. "In the Cathedral of the Martyrs." He pointed out over the darkening cityscape to an elaborate, looming steeple of coppery metal. "Look there, can you see it?"

  The cathedral was on the other side of the city, across the wide, winding river Kiel. It was a remarkable structure, almost as tall as the palace itself, and easily visible even at such a distance. Sabrina bristled at the sight of it.

  "Might we not be married elsewhere?" she asked. "I saw the Bishop Herrith at your coronation, my lord. He seemed such an unpleasant man. Maybe we could ask that someone else perform the rite."

  "I don't think we should, my lady. Biagio has alrea
dy told me that Arkus cares greatly for his bishop. A request like that would certainly be considered an insult."

  "All right," conceded Sabrina. "I certainly wouldn't want to risk offending the emperor. You'll need his goodwill if you expect his help."

  Richius grinned at her. "You talk like you know a thing or two about politics, my lady. Do you?"

  "Oh, yes," said Sabrina playfully. "I'm the daughter of a king, and you can't live in a castle without hearing about such matters. But if you would rather I was silent about it..."

  "Not at all," said Richius. "It's just that I'm impressed. I've never known a woman to have real knowledge of politics. Most of the women in our castle are, well, ignorant about the subject. But I welcome your advice, my lady. Lord knows I'll need it."

  "That might not be proper," said Sabrina. "You're a new king. Your people will be expecting you to look strong. How would they feel if they thought I was whispering orders in your ear?"

  "Not orders," corrected Richius. "Advice. And I say again I welcome it. Women are treated with respect where I come from. My mother, God rest her, was loved by her people, and my father listened to her advice. I want it to be the same way with us."

  "Very well, my lord. If that's what you want, I will help you in any way I can."

  "Good," said Richius. He cupped Sabrina's shoulders in his hands. "Then you can start by calling me Richius."

  "Richius," said Sabrina, as if trying out the word. "Yes, I like that. But what shall I call you around others? Surely I shouldn't speak to you so familiarly in front of your men."

  "You needn't worry about that. Everyone in the castle calls me Richius. I'm afraid we're not very formal in Aramoor. And if I may, I would like to call you Sabrina."

  Sabrina smiled. "Please do... Richius."

  They stood there for a moment, regarding each other like two frightened strangers, and Richius didn't move or take his hands from her shoulders. There was a breeze that stirred through the garden, pulling at the hem of her dress. Her lips trembled, almost opening, begging him to come closer. And suddenly he knew it: she was in love with him.