by John Marco
It wasn't an answer, and the evasiveness of the statement made Richius hopeful. He took a tiny step closer to her. "Just a little, perhaps?"
Dyana did not turn, but her shoulders slumped slightly. "When I was carrying Shani, Tharn was with me always, caring for me and seeing to my needs. He was like a true husband to me. And when I was birthing, he nursed me and held my hand. But Shani has always made me think of you, Richius. Even when she was in my belly." At last she turned to look at him, and her eyes were heavy with sadness. "You are not so easy to forget, Richius Vantran."
Richius smiled hopefully. "Dyana..."
"That is my answer," she said curtly. "It is all I can say to you. And if you love me as you claim, you will do this thing for me and our child. Will you? Will you talk to your emperor?"
Richius left the room without replying.
CHAPTER THIRTY
On Falindar's bleak mountain, on the side that faced the sea, the cliff face dove down a thousand feet to the rocks and wash below. Almost nothing grew here, for the ground was rocky, and the view to the endless ocean was unobscured except for one remarkable tree. It was ancient, tall, and weather-gnarled, with coiled branches that never dropped their foliage, even in winter. Leaves of gold and summer green changed hue with the seasons, and its trunk terminated in a web of roots that burst from the earth as they struggled to crack their rocky foundation. No one knew how the tree had gotten here, or how it garnered nourishment from the soil, but it was widely thought of as a gift from the sky wraiths, those lesser Triin gods that floated above the earth and dwelt sometimes on beautiful mountains. Because of this and its peculiar fruit that ripened in the early spring, the tree was renowned among Triin, an artifact taken as proof that the gods existed and that they loved their mortal children.
Lucyler didn't know if the tree was a gift from heaven or a trick of nature. He only knew that he loved the tree; that the tree gave him solace and made him thoughtful. In the days before the fall of Falindar, when he was the Daegog's privileged man, he would come to the tree and pick off one of its citrusy fruits, savoring it while he watched the sea dash itself against the shore. Those had been carefree times, when all he had to worry about was his Daegog's security and the boring press of daily life. Tharn and his revolution had changed all that forever, but the tree was still here and it still gave fruit, and it still made Lucyler ponder mysteries.
Today he needed the tree.
He reached into its thorny branches and plucked off a ripe red fruit. The branch sprang backward, startling a thrush and sending it skyward. It was a mild morning, a good morning to enjoy the serenity of the mountain. He sat down on an outcropping, his feet dangling off the cliff wall, and gently began peeling away the fruit's skin. A spray of juice struck his face and he smiled.
The sea was tranquil. He spied it as he ate, sucking out the tangy juice from the fruit's segmented interior. Birds skimmed the ocean in their perpetual quest for food, and the sky above was azure and cloudless. The fresh scent of briny water drifted on the breeze, and the sun was gentle on his face--so warm that its touch made him sleepy. But he hadn't come here to sleep today. He had come to think, for he was troubled, and the day's excellence did little to leaven his mood. He had betrayed a friend, and the guilt of it was killing him.
Two days had passed since he had spoken to Richius. Tharn had informed them both of his decision separately, and now it was up to Richius to decide what happened next. The discovery of his daughter had made Richius cold and distant. He didn't come to meals, he didn't speak with anyone, he didn't acknowledge knocks on his door. Sequestered in his room, Richius took in the food left for him in the hall only when he heard Lucyler's footfalls leaving. They all worried about him, even Tharn, but they didn't press him, and they were ignorant about what was going on behind his chamber door.
My poor friend, thought Lucyler mournfully. I am sorry.
And he was sorry. Genuinely. He skipped over the last few weeks in his mind, playing over his tactics and looking for mistakes. His one great regret was that he had listened to the woman. Dyana was wrong to keep the news from Richius, Lucyler knew that now. He should have told his friend of the pregnancy the moment they met in the Saccenne Run. But Dyana had been adamant, and hopeful that Richius would not come at all. She explained that there was no sense in telling him of the baby if he decided not to return for her. It would only make him want to come more, and there was nothing for him here.
Lucyler frowned as he chewed on the fruit's soft pulp. It had seemed good reasoning at the time. But Richius had reacted badly, and Lucyler was sure he was resentful.
"Damn," he muttered. He shouldn't have done it. Now his friend was lost to him, this fine, irreplaceable friend. Making it up was impossible; deception couldn't be erased. They had had a code in the Dring Valley, and had kept each other alive by following it. He had broken that code. He would miss Richius greatly.
And then, like a faint breeze, he heard him. Lucyler turned his head to see him standing some yards away, his arms hanging purposelessly at his sides. Lucyler licked the sticky juice from his lips, then waved Richius over.
"Sit," he said as Richius' shadow fell on his back. The shadow hesitated a moment before it moved. Richius sat down on the ledge carelessly, tossing his feet over the edge and staring blankly at the horizon.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Richius asked. He didn't turn to look at Lucyler, but asked the question to the wind. Lucyler shrugged.
"I am not sure now."
"Not good enough. Dyana told me she asked you not to tell me. Is that true?"
Lucyler nodded.
"And you listened to her? Why, Lucyler? How could you keep such a thing from me?"
"I said I do not know," Lucyler replied. "She asked me and I did it. Maybe I was wrong."
"You were wrong."
Lucyler turned to regard his friend. Richius looked older now. Three days' beard growth obscured his face and his hair was tousled and oily. Wrinkles creased his clothes and his eyes were sad. He sat with his shoulders slumped, his hands clasped loosely against his stomach as he rocked distractedly in the breeze.
"All right," Lucyler conceded. "I was wrong. And I am sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. Dyana hoped you would not return, and she knew if I told you about the child that you would certainly come."
"But you knew I'd come anyway," said Richius. "You and Tharn planned it that way."
"That is not so," said Lucyler, shaking his head vigorously. "I never lied to you."
Richius finally turned to look at him. "Didn't you? I asked you if Tharn would let Dyana go. You never answered me. That's just as bad as lying about it, Lucyler. Call it what you want, but you let me go on believing he would free her." His chin sank into his chest. "And that's what hurts me most of all. I thought we were friends."
Lucyler's heart fractured. "Never doubt it," he said quietly. "You are dear to me, Richius, whether you believe so or not. But I thought at the time Dyana was right. And perhaps she was. Is it really good to know you have a child here whose life you can never be part of? This did occur to me. I was not doing it to hurt you."
"And what about Tharn? Did you know he wouldn't let Dyana go with me?"
The question made Lucyler grimace. He wanted to lie, to extricate himself from guilt with a simple fabrication, but he screwed up his courage and said, "Tharn never told me he would not let her leave with you. But I suppose I knew it, yes."
Richius' head drooped a little more. Lucyler raced to explain himself.
"You have to understand. It was the only way to get you here. Would you have been willing to speak to Tharn if Dyana was not here?"
"Of course not," said Richius. "I would rather speak to the devil himself."
"Then you do understand." Lucyler lowered the fruit and stared at Richius pleadingly. "How else could I have gotten you here if not for Dyana? I told you Tharn was good, I told you there was peace here now, but you would not listen. It was only Dyana that made you come
here."
"That's right," said Richius hotly. He lifted his head and glared at Lucyler. "Do you want to know the truth, Lucyler? The truth is I don't give a damn about any of you anymore. If I could I'd go back to Nar City and tell them everything I know about you, where you are and what weaknesses you have--everything. I would destroy Falindar if I could, and everyone in it, because you all bloody deserve it. But I can't do that now because of Dyana and the baby. I can't have the revenge I deserve."
Lucyler felt a hopeful spark flare up within him. "So you are going back to help us?"
"That's all you want, isn't it?" Richius asked sourly. "Haven't you been listening to me?"
"I have," snapped Lucyler. "But you have not been listening to me. Look around, Richius. The war is over. Lucel-Lor has peace. Dyana's safe, whether you want to admit it or not, and your baby will be well cared for. Things are not perfect, but Tharn is trying. He cares about his people, more than the Daegog ever did. I know because I knew them both. Life will be better here because of Tharn, because he is strong and the warlords will follow him. Whether or not this lasts is up to you."
"Up to me?" Richius flared. "You're as bad as Tharn. I don't have that kind of influence with Arkus and you know it."
"But you can try."
There was an awkward silence as Richius sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He looked crazed, like an animal chewing off its own foot to escape a trap, and for a moment Lucyler was afraid. Not for himself, for he knew that Richius would never harm him, no matter how enraged or bitter he was. He feared for Richius, and for the sanity that seemed to be slipping away from him.
"Richius," he said gently. "I was wrong to do this to you. I used you, and for that I am sorry. Do not forgive me, but do not let this stop you from making a good decision. Think of all those here who have deceived you. They will suffer if this war happens. And think of Aramoor...."
"Stop," said Richius. "You and Tharn think you know me so well, don't you? You know just what to say to make me do your bidding."
"Richius, I--"
"No, Lucyler. I'm right. But the awful thing is you're right, too. I don't have a choice. I know I don't. You and Tharn have seen to that. You've learned well from him, my friend. You've learned how to manipulate people. He's quite a master at that, isn't he?"
"There was simply no other way," said Lucyler again. "Right or wrong, I had to get you here. I had to make you see what was at risk."
"I see," said Richius. "I see." He glanced down at the fruit on the rocky ground between them, picking it up and inspecting it. "Is this from that tree?"
Lucyler nodded. "It is called a heart fruit. They only ripen a few days a year. But when they do..." He raised an eyebrow. "Try it."
Richius sniffed at the half-eaten fruit. "Smells nice," he commented, and took a bite. His eyes lit up as he mumbled, "Good.'
"I thought you would like it," said Lucyler. "I can get you some if you like."
"No," said Richius. "Save them for the others. We have fruit enough in Aramoor." He handed the heart fruit back to Lucyler. "Here, you finish it."
Lucyler took it and set it back down. "Richius," he asked carefully, "will you tell me what you have decided?"
Richius looked away distractedly. "He's not going to change his mind, is he?"
"No," answered Lucyler. "I am sorry."
"Why not, Lucyler? He knows I love her. He knows she doesn't love him. Why is he keeping her from me?"
"It is not like that exactly," Lucyler explained. "It is not that he wants to keep you apart. He wants to keep her with him. He loves her also."
"Do you know that for certain?"
"She is very beautiful, Richius. And he is... well, less than beautiful. It is like that for men here. A beautiful woman is important for men like Tharn. Others follow him. They strive to be like him. And yes, I think he does love her."
"Then he will take care of her? And the baby?"
"I have no doubt. You should see him with her, Richius. He glows when she is around. He is more obsessed with her than you are, I think."
"Dyana's told me," Richius admitted. "She said that he has always loved her, even before they were betrothed. I guess I was hoping she was wrong."
Lucyler shook his head. "She is not wrong. His love for her is a strange thing. It is something fierce. And his sickness make him love her even more. She is very beautiful. I think he feels less monstrous around her. But he is good to her. And that is all you should worry about."
Richius seemed satisfied. He nodded to himself, as if in deed thought, saying, "All right then. I will leave in the morning for Aramoor."
"Will you speak to Arkus for us, Richius?"
"You know I will. I have no choice. I can't let this war happen if Dyana and Shani are here in Falindar. But don't deceive yourself, Lucyler. Just being here is treason. When Arkus learns of it, he won't be in a mood to talk. I'll be lucky if I get out of the Black City alive."
"I know. That is why I am going with you."
"What?"
"I cannot ask you to do this without taking the risk myself. And I have already told Tharn I am going. It is done."
"Then undo it. You'll have a lot less chance of surviving this than me, Lucyler. What do you think goes on in Nar? Arkus will have you locked up in one of his war labs before you know what's happening. He'd just love to get his hands on a Triin."
"I am prepared for the worst," replied Lucyler calmly. "We will face this together."
"Then you might as well say your farewells now, Lucyler. You won't be coming back."
Lucyler merely shrugged. He had expected Richius' argument, and had already reached all the same conclusions. It changed nothing. He would either die in Nar trying for peace, or he would die in Lucel-Lor fighting a war. Death came to everyone. What really mattered was how it came.
"I've told Tharn not to expect too much from us," he said. "But I doubt he was listening. He has faith in us, I fear."
"Faith," spat Richius. "Then he is a fool. He should put his faith in Liss. He should fight with them like they've asked. With their help Lucel-Lor might stand a chance. Unless of course he uses his power."
"You do not understand," said Lucyler. He was tiring of this argument, of trying to explain the subtleties of Drol life to Richius. Not everyone could grasp it, he knew, particularly non-Triin, but he had hoped Richius was smarter than that.
"You're, right," said Richius. "I don't understand. I wish I could see him as you do. This would all be easier for me."
"You will see the truth of him in time, Richius. Just like I did."
Clearly, Richius disagreed. He rubbed thoughtfully at his beard, his eyes darting with the passing seabirds. They sat there together a long moment, their legs perched over the sea wall, and a gust of ocean air blew back their hair. White-capped waves shimmered in the distance, tossing up tasty trophies for the hovering gulls. The song of the sea was crisp on the mountain and they lost themselves in it, swaying slightly to its constant, iambic rhythm.
Tomorrow, thought Lucyler sadly. It was too soon. He had missed Falindar terribly during his long excursion to Aramoor. He wasn't eager to say farewell again--and this time it might be for good. He flicked the rind of the heart fruit off the cliff edge, mindful that it would likely be his last. The fruit plummeted downward and disappeared.
"Will you see him again before we go?" asked Lucyler.
Richius shrugged indifferently. "Why should I? He's made his decision and I've made mine."
"What about Dyana and the little one?"
"Tonight I'll say good-bye to them both," said Richius. "If Tharn lets me, that is."
"Of course he will," said Lucyler. "You need only ask. I'll tell him myself if you like."
"No," said Richius. "I'll do it." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Am I a fool, Lucyler?"
"What?"
"Am I a fool?" asked Richius again. "I feel like one. I should never have come back. I don't know what I expected to find here."
"I think you know," said Lucyler gently. "You expected to find Dyana willing. You imagined she would be waiting for you, did you not?"
Richius opened his eyes and stared at his friend. "God, I'm stupid, aren't I? She hardly even knows me. And I hardly know her. Yet I love her, Lucyler. I can't explain it, but I do. I've loved her since I saw her. She was enough to make me leave Aramoor. And I never thought anything could drag me back here."
"Love is a mystery, my friend," offered Lucyler. "Sometimes it takes years to grow. Other times an instant is enough."
"And sometimes it never grows at all," Richius concluded.
Lucyler started to speak but abruptly broke off, cocking his head toward the citadel. Someone was calling his name, barely audible over the rushing breeze. He stood up at once and scanned the distance. A man was coming toward them, a warrior of Kronin's, racing down the sloping hillside.
"What is it?" asked Richius, getting to his feet. He followed Lucyler's gaze until he himself sighted the running man. The warrior moved with purpose along the rocky ground, his arms and legs pumping furiously. Lucyler felt his insides ice.
"Trouble," he whispered blackly.
"Loocylr!" came the echoing cry, rolling down the mountain like an avalanche. The man was waving now, frantically waving a hand above him as he ran. Lucyler waved back, then motioned to Richius.
"Follow me," he called over his shoulder, dashing madly to meet the warrior. Richius was close on his heels.
Together they thundered up the slope to where the warrior in blue and gold had halted, his face flushed with exertion and dripping perspiration. He spoke in a flustered croak, his words disjointed. Lucyler listened, piecing together what he could as the man rambled and pointed, first to Richius and then to the towering citadel over his shoulder.
"What's he saying?" asked Richius.
Lucyler said shakily, "There is someone for you in the citadel. Tharn wants you to come at once."
"Someone for me? Who?"
"He does not know," Lucyler explained. The man was still talking. "He only knows Tharn wants to see you, in the banquet room. Something important."
