by John Marco
"Come," he ordered.
The hallway was dim and quiet. Dyana's chamber was near the end of the corridor. Tharn traversed the distance with remarkable speed and rapped insistently on the door. A long pause went by with no answer. Richius guessed that Dyana had already retired for the night. But before Tharn could knock again the door pulled cautiously open and Dyana peered out. Bewildered, she looked at Tharn and then to Richius, then finally back to Tharn.
"Husband?"
Tharn pushed the door open with his cane. Dyana stumbled backward. She was dressed in a simple gown that told Richius she was indeed readying herself for sleep. She blinked at her husband in alarm.
"What is it?"' she asked. Tharn did not step inside the chamber.
"King Richius is going to the Dring Valley," he said tersely. "He will be leaving in two days. He will need an interpreter. You will go with him."
Dyana stared at him as if she hadn't heard. "Husband?"
"What?" erupted Richius.
"Teach him our language so he can learn," Tharn continued. "It is important, Dyana. Do your very best."
"I don't understand," Dyana stammered. "Why must we go to the Dring Valley?"
"Richius is needed there," said Tharn. "And you are the only one who can teach him."
"But Shani--"
"Take the infant with you. Voris will look after you both."
Dyana's look was baleful. "Husband--"
"Do not argue with me!" snapped Tharn. "Now sleep. You will need to be rested." He hooked his hand around the door handle and pulled it closed, shutting Dyana away. Richius could hear her astonished curse behind the door.
"Are you insane?" he asked. "You want her to go with me? Why?"
"You need an interpreter," said Tharn. He went to another door and knocked. This time it opened quickly. The nurse Richius had seen in Dyana's chambers days ago appeared. Tharn tossed off some quick demands and she stepped out into the hall, wrapping her arms around him just as Richius had. Slowly they made their way back to the stairway.
"Don't ignore me," said Richius, keeping pace with them. "I want to know what this is all about. Why should she go with me?"
Tharn would not look at him. "You do not speak the language and Lucyler is needed elsewhere."
"Rubbish. What's the real reason?"
"That is it."
Richius grabbed hold of the nurse's arm and yanked her away. She shrieked and shrank backward, sending Tharn to his knees. The cunning-man cursed and glared up at Richius.
"Leave me be!" he hissed, fumbling to rise. Richius did not offer a hand.
"Tell me the truth."
"I have told the truth! You are needed in Dring. We cannot lose the valley."
"Not that," Richius barked. He held back the nurse with a warning hand. "Tell me the truth about Dyana. Why must she go with me?"
"Because she isn't safe here!"
Richius faltered back a step, stunned. He watched Tharn struggle to his feet. The cunning-man's expression was terrible. "Tharn," began Richius weakly. "I don't understand. Explain yourself."
Tharn rubbed at his forehead pensively. "She is not safe here," he repeated through gritted teeth. "I must send her to Dring with you. I have no choice."
"You're worried about her? But she'd be safer here, surely."
Tharn pulled himself up with his walking stick. "No," he said. "There are many here in Falindar who know about you and Dyana." He looked at Richius curiously. "Does that surprise you? Yes, I can see that it does. I am not so blind myself, you know. She has not been the same since you arrived. Little things distract her." Tharn's face was sour. "It seems carrying your child has affected her."
Embarrassed, Richius could only shrug. "But why isn't she safe here? You're her husband now."
"There are many who think she is tainted from being with you. The child, too. They would kill her if they could."
"They wouldn't dare."
"They would," Tharn insisted. "Not all Drol are as I am. The see how she is, like a Naren woman. And they know the child yours."
"But no one would harm her with you around," said Richius "You can protect her better than I can."
"I will not be here to protect her much longer. I must go to Chandakkar. I must make Karlaz listen. If I do not return Dyana and the baby will be in danger. So they must go with you to Dring. She will be safe there. Voris will protect her. He is sworn to me."
"These others are sworn to you, too," countered Richius. "Aren't they?"
"Not like Voris. He is a friend of many years. He is a brother to me. He will protect Dyana." Tharn's face darkened. "And you will, too, I know. I have seen how you glow when you look at her. I am not as blind as you think."
"Tharn..."
"Do not deny it. I do not fault you. And I do not blame Dyana, either. She has a monster for a husband. Of course she would find you compelling."
Richius couldn't answer, so stunned was he by the man's honesty. More, he was intrigued. Had Dyana really changed since he'd come here? Was she enamored with him, too? The notion made his heart race.
"Tharn, I can't go to Dring. You don't know how Voris and I feel about each other."
Tharn laughed. "Oh, yes, I do."
"Then you know you ask the impossible. Voris will never work with me."
"He will because I have ordered it," said Tharn. "He will do as I say. Believe me, he is better than you think of him. And he needs you. The Dring Valley is too important. If it is lost, then the war is lost. You must help us, Richius, you must. We all must stand together."
"Easy," urged Richius, taking the man's arm. He waved the nurse over. Hesitantly she took hold of Tharn. "Go back to the council. I'll think on what you've said."
"No. I want your answer first. Dyana thinks you are a man of strength. Will you show us some strength now? Go to Dring. Defend it. Have your revenge on your emperor that way."
"It won't work--"
"It will," Tharn said. "But you must put aside your feelings, as I have. Do you think I wish to send Dyana with you? I do not. But you have need of her, and I cannot leave her here. I do not trust you, but I have no choice. So you see? Even I am tangled in my plans. But know this. I am a Drol. I will not let you disgrace me. And Voris will be watching you."
"That sounds like a threat," remarked Richius sharply. "You shouldn't threaten someone from whom you need a favor."
"You will defend Dring because it is right to do, not because I ask it. As for Dyana, I do not believe she would risk being with you. She knows I love her. Call it an obsession if you wish, but I cannot stop it. I have never been able to, and I have tried. It is like that for you, too, is it not?"
Richius nodded sadly. "Yes."
Tharn smiled at him. "I do not hate you, Richius Vantran. I think my wife is right about you. But do not rival me for Dyana. Where she is concerned, I cannot stop myself."
It was a grim warning, and Richius accepted it grudging He had already seen the lengths the cunning-man would go for possession of Dyana, and he had no wish to repeat such violence. Especially not with Shani involved.
"Go back to the others, Tharn," he said. "Let me at least have the night to think."
Tharn inclined his head slightly, then let the nurse guide him away down the winding staircase.
For a long moment Richius stood alone in the hall. His shin still ached where Voris had kicked him, but it was a distant ache, hardly noticeable. He thought of going to Dyana while Tharn was occupied, but the idea seemed somehow dishonorable. Tharn loved her. That was as evident as the moonlight. Richius stare down the hall toward Dyana's closed door, knowing that she was troubled and confused as he was. Someone should explain all to her, he thought.
He would do it. Just not tonight.
Dyana awoke the next morning determined to speak to Tharn. Now that his war council was over, he would have time for her she reasoned, and even if he didn't she would make him see her. It was just past dawn and she was fussing with Shani, feeding her baby and cleaning her, and waiting fo
r her nurse so that she might leave her daughter in search of Tharn.
She was incensed. Not only for being ordered around like dog, but for being given the impossible task of teaching Richius their language. Worse still, she dreaded the thought of returning to the austere Dring Valley. Almost a year had passed since she had fled that awful place, stealing away with Falger and the other refugees, and she had promised herself that she would never return, certainly not while the Drol held sway. Now her husband was ordering her back there, and Dyana didn't know which she hated more--her impotence at being commanded or the thought of living with Voris.
"Damn him," she muttered as she put Shani into her crib. Tharn could be such an enigma. Just when she thought him kind, he turned back into an adder. And this time he had bitten her hard. This time, she knew, she would not be able to dissuade him. There had been a wildness in his eyes last night, a frightening singleness of mind. For whatever inscrutable reasons, he had made his decision. She would have to go to Dring. But not without a protest.
When the nurse arrived, Dyana left her chambers and started down the stairs that would take her to her husband's study. Tharn always rose before the sun and spent an hour in devotion, then whiled away the rest of the morning with his books. He did not care to be interrupted while he read, and more than once had chastised servants for disturbing him. It was his ailments that made him cranky, she knew, and so usually she left him alone, never troubling him until he emerged from his offices of his own choice.
But not today. Today she had business with the master of Falindar, and had nary a care for his precious solitude. She was almost at the bottom of the stairs when the sight of Voris made her halt. The warlord was coming up. He stopped when he saw her.
"Woman," he said thickly. "I was coming to speak to you."
Dyana straightened. "That is presumptuous of you. Those are my private quarters, upstairs."
"What I have to say to you should be said in private." The warlord gestured for her to turn around. "Back to your rooms. We will talk there."
"We will not," said Dyana hotly. "What is it you want, Lord Voris? Have you a message from my husband?"
Voris' face seized. "What I have to tell you is from me alone, woman. And if you would rather hear my insults in a stairway, so be it." The warlord ascended another step, so that he was face to face with Dyana. "I am to escort you to my home. I am to protect you there. Have you been told this?"
"I have," Dyana answered, not hiding her own distaste. "So?"
"I bring you a warning. I know you have feelings for the Jackal. I know that child is his. But let me tell you something. I will not allow you to disgrace your husband with that criminal. Not while you are under my charge. Tharn is sending you with me so that I may protect you, but I will protect him as well. His virtue is in my hands now. I will not let you disgrace him."
Dyana gritted her teeth. "How dare you?" she seethed. "Do not tell me my mind, Warlord. I am a grown woman."
Voris laughed. "Yes, this is the fire I have heard of. Oh, Tharn has always been so enamored of you. I cannot see why. To me you are nothing but a wild harlot."
"Get out of my way," said Dyana, brushing past him.
Voris seized her arm and pressed her against the wall. "I am not done with you."
"You are!" spat Dyana, wrenching free. "And you will not ever touch me again."
"And you will not let that Naren pig touch you, either, wife of Tharn. I will know it if he does. In my valley I know all."
"Then you should know I have no intention of being with the Naren," said Dyana. "I know who my husband is."
"Indeed?" barked Voris. "Tharn is far too trusting of you. I have warned him about you for years, but he would never listen to me. Now he tells me that I do not know you, that you are a good woman. But I do not want to know you, harlot. I do not want to hear your poison, and I do not want you spreading it through my valley."
"There is no cause for worry," said Dyana. "I want nothing to do with your followers."
"Good. Do not prove me right about you. For if you disgrace Tharn, I swear to you I will kill the Jackal, with Tharn's blessing or without." Voris fixed his blazing eyes on her. "And I might do the same to you."
Before Dyana could respond, Voris the Wolf turned and went back down the stairs, leaving her alone. She took one more step downward, then stopped, suddenly unsure what she would tell Tharn. Sometimes she forgot that she was a prisoner, but then things like this happened and the bars became visible again. Tharn wouldn't care about her complaints. He was a good man. She hadn't lied to Richius about that. He was kind to her, and gentle. But he owned her, and there was nothing she could ever do to change that.
Slowly, Dyana made her way back up the stairs toward her spacious, gilded cage.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
In the days prior to leaving Falindar, Richius busied himself with plans for the Dring Valley's defense. He remained in his chambers for long hours, working well into the night as he scribbled maps by candlelight and thumbed through his journal to recall past misadventures.
Tharn had given him an ambitious project, for neither he nor Voris was willing to speak to the other, and Richius was forced to rely on his memories of Dring as he drew his maps.
It was a slipshod method at best. Having spent most of his time in the trenches just outside the valley's deep core, he had never seen all of Dring. It was a thick, forbidding place, but more than that he could not say. Castle Dring was in the center of the valley, and he had never been there, and to the south were marshes and swamps, which the Naren forces would certainly avoid. The heart of the valley was absolutely overrun with vegetation, so Gayle's horsemen and the war wagons wouldn't pose much of a threat. Richius knew the dense center of Dring would be relatively easy to defend. Voris and his warriors would have the advantage there. It was on the outskirts of the valley, where the land was flat enough for both horse and greegan, that the threat would be the greatest. This was territory they would probably lose quickly.
But they would have to try, and Richius set to work planning an elaborate scheme of trenches and traps for the war wagons and cavalry. There would be long spears to deal with the horsemen, and shields to deflect the fire of the flame cannons. Archers would have to be positioned in every trench so that they could pick off the infantry, and whatever war wolves Voris possessed would have the unenviable task of tangling with the monstrous greegans. Richius set it all down on paper and gave it to Tharn to pass along to Voris. Voris passed it along grudgingly to his men. The warlord of Dring didn't question the plans, however, but sent his warriors back to his valley with orders to begin the work Richius had directed. It was an uncomfortable arrangement, and Richius resented it. So too did Voris, and on the eve of their leaving for Dring, the warlord made his feelings plain.
That morning, Richius said his good-byes to Lucyler, who at the direction of Tharn had gathered the remaining warriors in the citadel and set out for the rough outer reaches of Tatterak to find and kill those Narens that had landed on their shores. It was a melancholy farewell, and it soured Richius' mood. He whiled away that afternoon in his chamber, jotting down notes in his journal and missing home and fretting over how Dyana and Shani would manage on the long journey to the valley. She would be the only woman on the trip and would need to feed the baby. Her privacy was the issue pestering him when he heard the knock on his door.
"Who is it?" he asked, setting aside his pen. There was another knock. Richius got out of his chair with a groan and opened the door. Outside was a grim-faced cunning-man, one of Tharn's devotees. The man handed Richius a note and departed without a word. The note read very simply, "Come see me now." It was not signed but the nearly illegible penmanship told Richius it was from Tharn.
"Where?" wondered Richius aloud. Stuffing the note into his pocket, he stepped out of his chamber and closed the door. He guessed that Tharn would be in his study, poring over his own collection of maps and books, and he sauntered casually down the narrow ha
llway, confused by the message but unconcerned. Tharn would be leaving in the morning, too, and probably wanted to know what progress Richius had made in his plans. Richius was sure he had enough to satisfy the Drol.
The Drol priests in the hall outside of Tharn's study stepped aside when they saw him coming. Since the council, the citadel had been alive with activity, and it was rare to be able to walk the place's corridors without seeing at least one of the ubiquitous holy men. They encircled Tharn like a shroud now, never letting anyone interrupt him unless they had known business. Richius scooted past them without regard. The door to Tharn's study was closed. A conversation leaked out beneath it. Richius cocked his head to listen. Tharn's voice was rasping in Triin. He hesitated a moment longer, wondering who else was in the chamber and hoping it was Dyana. But the cunning-men were watching him, so he knocked lightly on the door. At once the conversation stopped.
"Tharn?" he asked politely. "It's Richius."
Some shuffling noises sounded before Tharn's voice answered, "Come."
Cautiously Richius pushed open the door. He spied Tharn seated at his desk behind a pile of parchments and sloppily stacked books. The Drol leader looked up with a frail smile. There was a shadow on his face from the person standing by the window. Richius opened the door wide enough to see Voris' face. The warlord of the Dring Valley crossed his arms over his chest and made a grimace of contempt as he noticed Richius.
"Come in," urged Tharn. "Close the door, please."
When the door closed the room fell under a tense silence. Richius waited for Tharn to speak, chancing a curious glance at Voris. The warlord stared back. Tharn sighed, and gestured Richius toward the small chair by his desk." Richius remained standing.
"Very well," said Tharn impatiently. He blew back a strand of dirty hair from his forehead and leaned back in his seat. "Richius, do you know why you are here?"
"No," replied Richius. "Tell me please. I'm already anxious to leave."
Tharn chuckled mirthlessly. "It gets colder day by day around you. Why not sit? We have business."
