Burning Bright

by Megan Derr

  Ivan gave a shrug of his own. "Fine. Settled. On his way home."

  Luka cocked his head and regarded him thoughtfully. "You don't sound very happy about it."

  "Douse it," Ivan said.

  Mouth quirking, Luka obediently moved on. "We're packed and ready to go on a moment. Are you still going to haul that scorching bastard back to the palace?"

  "Yes," Ivan said. "Have you seen Raz?"

  Luka shook his head. "No. He said he'd be back though and that he wanted to go with you."

  "I know; I just wish he'd hurry up." Ivan jerked his head and Luka followed him into the dining area and scared off a couple of people who had the table nearest the door. Flagging down a wench, he put in an order for beer and food. When she came back with everything and had gone again, Ivan said, "Gleb and Ferapont can travel?"

  "Not well or fast, but they'll do it," Luka said. "At least it's not a broken leg this time, hmm? That was not a fun time. We're lucky the leg healed so well."

  "And that Isidor calmed down afterward," Ivan added.

  Luka looked at him, took a swallow of beer, and then looked at him again.

  "What?" Ivan snapped.

  Picking up a loaf of bread, Luka began to tear it into pieces, dipping it into the broth of his stew. "Assuming you're allowed to leave the palace, I was thinking Pozhar is kind of a really bad place for us to be right—"

  "Douse it," Ivan said. "We couldn't manage it, and there's no point in planning or thinking of planning until this matter is over."

  Luka made a face. "We could just drop Zholty off at a guard station."

  Ivan shook his head. "I want to be absolutely certain that he is turned over to the right persons and, sadly, the only person I trust in that capacity right now is the Tsar. I cannot believe I am even saying those words."

  "It's rather amusing, I admit," Luka said and poured him more beer. "Perhaps they'll let you go—oh, there's Raz, and he found his girls I see."

  "Unfortunately," Ivan groused. He watched while Raz, Shio, and Shinju walked toward them and sat down around them. He nodded to Raz, ignoring the other two, not really upset when they ignored him right back.

  Raz indicated the mermaids and explained, "They said they'd help take Zholty up to the palace and ensure that your men get away safely—and you, if even remotely possible."

  "It's the least we can do," Shio said stiffly, "though after all the aggravation you've given us, I don't want to do anything. But Raz asked, and so we'll help."

  Ivan just glared at them. "I don’t need your scorching help."

  "Last time, we got you caught," Shinju said. "This time, we'll help you escape. We owe you that much, even if you are a shark."

  Raz held up his hands to stop the bickering from continuing. "It should be me ensuring you get away, but I can't because soon I won't be around anymore." He tried to smile, but it wobbled and fell, and he settled for nervously breaking a hunk of bread into little more than crumbs. "So just take their help, Ivan. At least we'll all know your men will get away."

  Ivan did not know what to say. He went into dangerous situations all the time, knew every job could be his last—but it was not even close to the same thing as facing being sacrificed.

  He shoved away his stew and beer, no longer hungry. "We should get going," he said quietly and rose, moving away before anyone could speak. Raz and the mermaids joined him in the entry hall. Raz raised his brows in silent query, but Ivan just shook his head, not certain why he was so out of sorts.

  Well. That wasn't true. His men were injured, disconnected, and short on funds, and shortly he would likely no longer be around to take care of them. He also missed Ailill for no explicable reason. And he was taking Raz to his death so a god could either be revived or destroyed forever.

  He knew exactly what was wrong; he just didn't feel like discussing it. He shouldn't have been involved at all, and he no longer could figure out why he was—why he was doing something as stupid as giving himself up just to be absolutely certain that Zholty would die. "Let's go," he said again and led the way outside to where their horses waited.

  They rode through the city, out the main gates, and slowly up the road to the royal palace. Snow had resumed falling, but it was nothing like it had been days ago. Ivan wondered how long it would take so much snow to melt once spring arrived, and then wondered if he would be around to see it. He turned his head to look out over the sea, sighing inwardly at himself when he realized he had been looking for white sails.

  He returned his attention to the matter at hand as they drew closer to the palace. Zholty was thrown over his horse, tied in place, and Ivan placed a hand on his back to steady him as they reached the gates to the palace.

  "Who goes there?" A guard demanded.

  "My name is Ivan Mikhailovich Kozlov, and I am here to see the Tsar." Ivan waited until the guard had stopped laughing, and then said, "Tell him the mercenary he met a few days ago is here to see him and that I have brought back his troublemaker and something else he seeks. If you will not do it, we are more than happy to show ourselves to the throne room."

  The guard started to make a jeering remark, but finally noticed the figure across Ivan's saddle. He vanished through the guardhouse door and a moment later the gate was raised.

  Ivan was not surprised that, once inside the palace, they were quickly surrounded by soldiers.

  "There was probably an easier way to do this," Raz commented as they obediently dismounted.

  "You are under arrest," a guard with captain's marks said, and he signaled the others soldiers to grab them.

  Ivan was just about to start breaking noses when someone called out, "Hold!"

  Everyone froze, turned and watched as Krasny descended the stairs to the palace, the High Priest just behind him.

  "Release them," Krasny said. Ivan almost didn't recognize him. The man he'd met had been dressed all in black, rough from days of hard travel. The man before him was dressed in black breeches, stockings, and silver-buckled black shoes, but his coat was of the deepest violet and decorated with various ornaments of state. His hair was loose, all the more vivid against the purple jacket. A heavy rubi ring was on his finger, and though Ivan had never seen it, everyone knew the Tsar's ring.

  "Majesty," he greeted, kneeling as Krasny turned to face him.

  Krasny looked amused. "Guards, get Zholty down from that horse. Take the horses away. Release them!" The guards who still had hold of Raz and the mermaids hastily let them go and stepped back. "Come with me."

  Ivan stood, sharing a look with the others as he obediently followed Krasny into the palace. Krasny led them down the main hall, and then down a series of smaller hallways, up a narrow flight of stairs, and down one last hallway to a small room that was mostly comprised of a curving wall of windows set above padded benches. Ivan glanced out them and saw they overlooked the city a great distance away.

  "Sit, tea should be here shortly," Krasny said. He gestured to the guards who had followed them silently the entire time. "Wait outside."

  "Your Majesty—"

  "Outside," Krasny said and stepped back when another set of guards brought Zholty in and, at Krasny's bidding, laid him out on a settee in the corner. They had only just departed when three women and a footman came in bearing a teacart and went about setting up the table in the center of the room.

  Ivan wished they would just lock him up already. He would rather have been in a prison cell than having tea with the scorching Tsar. He turned to Raz, but Raz was staring hard at the High Priest who was, in turn, starting just as hard back.

  Rolling his eyes at the entire situation, Ivan moved to stare out the window some more, joining Shio and Shinju there. "So I guess you two must be pretty pleased that your mission of ensuring the Vessels die is accomplished."

  "We don't like it," Shio said. "We don't want Raz to die. We didn't want Pechal to die. They were nice to us."

  "Yeah, funny, when I don't want people I care about to be killed I don't turn them in
to ensure it happens," Ivan said. "Keep trying to justify your actions all you like; you're nothing but a couple of scorching fish to me."

  Shinju started to say something, but cut herself off with a rough, angry noise. The sound of the door closing drew their attention, and they all turned to see the servants and remaining guards had departed

  "My life has never been a boring one," Krasny said. "As much as I have traveled, I was fairly confident I had seen everything. But I admit I have never had a wanted criminal walk into my courtyard and demand to see me, bringing such interesting company with him: A traitor, two mermaids, and the last Vessel." He swept an arm mockingly at the table. "Shall we have tea?"

  Ivan sat, not at all certain what he should have been doing sitting next to the scorching Tsar having tea. He settled for mimicking Krasny and Dym, grateful that Dym poured tea for everyone.

  "So how did you capture Zholty?" Krasny asked.

  "He came after me," Raz said. "He spoke of losing everything if I died, though whether it was the failure of his own plans or that he would fail Teufel, I could not tell you." He drained most of his teacup and began to explain what had happened to him. Ivan had already heard it from him when they stopped to rest on their journey back to the Heart. It sounded no less horrific in the retelling, and he shivered all over again, chest aching with the memory of the curse Zholty had placed on him.

  When Raz had finished retelling his part, Ivan picked it up, relating the way Zholty had nearly killed Gleb, Ferapont, and Ailill. It was only when he said Ailill's name that he realized his error. Krasny's brow shot up. "Ailill. Not Ailill le Blanc, the White Panther of Verde?"

  Ivan sighed at himself. "The very same, your Majesty."

  "Dare I ask what he was doing here, and why he was clearly trying to hide that fact?"

  "He was looking for a comb, some treasure of Verde. Zholty had it; we got it back for him. Ailill should have headed home a while ago, but he stayed to help us."

  Krasny grimaced, set his teacup down, and leaned back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. "Well, I am glad he survived. I shudder to think what would happen in Verde if they had to wait for a new White Panther to appear. Given how young they are when they are revealed, it would have been an even greater disaster for their already quite tragic ceremony."

  Tamping down on his curiosity about Verde because it was neither the time nor the place and completely pointless anyway, Ivan asked, "What are you going to do with Zholty?"

  "Execute him," Krasny said, picking up his tea and sipping it. "He's a traitor and, more importantly, extremely dangerous. We'll do it tonight, quietly. He has no family, and even being engaged to Princess Sonya has not really won him any allies. No one will inquire closely about his absence—if they inquire at all—and in a few months we'll quietly announce his death." He tilted his head, gave Ivan a speculative look, and then glanced at Dym. They seemed to have some silent conversation. Ivan remembered when they had done that before. He was learning to really hate when they did that—and hated more that he'd seen it enough to have learned to hate it.

  He was giving himself a headache. He glared at Raz, who seemed to understand and smile apologetically. Ivan grunted, watching with trepidation as Krasny stood and went to Zholty's still body. He picked up Zholty's right hand and removed the only ring on it: a white gold ring set with a brilliant piece of orange-yellow amber cut into an oval shape.

  Returning to the table, Krasny sat down and flipped the ring to Ivan. He caught it reflexively and opened his palm to display it. "What is this about?"

  "Zholty has been stripped of everything. He quite literally owns nothing but the clothes he wears. His estates have languished for years; I am told there are not even any tenants left, and the village under his protection has long sustained itself. I believe you know it."

  Ivan nodded. "That doesn't explain the ring."

  "It's yours, now. All of it," Krasny replied. "You're a good leader. You're intelligent, you have no desire to muck about here playing political games, and you have proven you will put the needs of others well before your own, up to and including at the risk of your life. The paperwork will be drawn up later, but as Tsar I formally appoint you the eleventh Duke of Vaklov."'

  "The—the what?" Ivan demanded while across the table Raz burst into laughter. "Douse it!" he snapped, which just made Raz laugh harder.

  Krasny's mouth twitched. "You're a duke now. It seems more useful than throwing you in a cell to rot."

  Ivan said nothing, just tucked the ring away and slumped slightly in his seat. He was a duke? What did that even mean? How had he gone from being a mercenary to a scorching noble? Ivan settled for risking ill manners by pouring himself more tea. If he was going to be a duke, he was going to pour more tea, and scorch anyone who said otherwise.

  "Now that we've addressed that matter," Krasny said softly, shifting his gaze to Raz, "I suppose there is only the one left. Welcome, Vessel. I am sorry you do not visit for a happier purpose."

  "It's a good purpose, which will suffice," Raz replied. "I am sorry for your loss, Majesty."

  Krasny nodded. "Thank you. You have, by this point, made the acquaintance of the High Priest Dym?"

  If Ivan did not know any better, he would swear that Raz flushed and Dym looked briefly uncomfortable. "Yes, your Majesty."

  "You are, I admit, the most stoic Vessel that I have ever met. My sister, fires bless her, tried her best. But she was only fifteen."

  Raz flinched. "I’m sorry."

  "We all do what we must for Pozhar," Krasny replied. "Thank you for cooperating and for helping to bring me Zholty. I apologize on his behalf."

  Raz just nodded and picked up his teacup and drained it. He drew a breath, and then let it out slowly. Turning to Dym, he said, "Shall we, then? It's only late afternoon, plenty of time to prepare, I think?"

  Dym looked sad—Ivan almost thought he looked heartbroken—but he only rose and offered Raz a hand. "Come with me, then."

  Standing, Raz took his hand, but he lingered when Dym made to move toward the door. "Would you three come?" he asked, looking at Ivan, Shio, and Shinju.

  "You want me to come?" Ivan asked, surprised by the request, yet saddened because Raz had lost his only real family when he'd lost Pechal. "I'd be honored."

  Shio and Shinju only nodded, and Ivan realized they were too upset to speak. No one could fake those tears. Though he hated to show them any sort of lenience, he could not hold on to his entire grudge upon seeing the devastation written in their body language.

  Raz smiled in parting and left the room, still holding Dym's hand. Ivan stared at the door as it closed after them. He turned to Krasny. "How in the fires do you deal with it?"

  "You try to convince yourself it's the right thing, pray that it is, and try not to think about it otherwise," Krasny said quietly. He pushed back his chair and stood. "Come, we will find you suitable clothing for attending a sacrifice." He paused, and then added with a slight hint of smirk, "Your grace."

  "Douse it. Your Majesty."

  Chapter Sixteen: The Last Sacrifice

  "I thought you would be the first to find me," Raz said quietly as they walked. He sounded so calm, Dym almost found it hard to believe that they were moments away from sacrificing Raz.

  Dym looked at him, and then looked hastily away. "I—we were reluctant to hold a sacrifice so soon after Tsar Zarya died, and I assured Krasny that you would not be fleeing the country. We decided there was no harm, ultimately, in waiting for a time. There's been enough death lately, and Zholty will die tonight."

  Raz said nothing, simply walked in silence alongside Dym, holding firmly to his hand though Dym tried twice to pull away. "Do you remember an apple tree?"

  The words made Dym falter and stumble to a halt in the middle of the palace hall. He stared at Raz, his heart thudding in his chest. "You remember that?"

  "I remember an apple tree. I remember singing. I remember you smiling."

  Dym couldn't breathe. He hadn't thou
ght Raz—Eminence—would remember the apple tree. Of all the memories to surface while he was a mortal … "I remember," Dym said. "It would be hard to forget that tree."

  "It's still there, did you know that?"

  "Of course," Dym replied. "I am the one who turned it into stone. No one but you could destroy it completely. Come on, we should not stand here gathering strange looks."

  They walked the rest of the way to the cathedral in silence. Raz's steps slowed as he took in the beautiful windows, and Dym wondered what he saw, what else he remembered. He watched, stomach in knots, when Raz's gaze lingered on the one of a boy sleeping beneath an apple tree and did not dare wonder or hope at why the window made Raz smile faintly.

  Dym hesitated, and then move to stand beside him and up at the window with him, longing and sadness nearly overwhelming him. Raz curled a hand around his upper arm, tugged him around, and reached up to kiss him softly. Dym stiffened against him, surprised. Raz pulled back and smiled faintly. "Stop worrying. After all this, everything will work out."

  "Are you sure you want to do this? I will face the consequences if you prefer to remain as you are, Eminence."

  Raz shook his head. "I'm not Eminence. Just Raz. I'm certain. What do we do to get ready?"

  "This way," Dym said quietly, turning away and leading Raz into the back rooms of the Cathedral. For a moment, he was tempted to take Raz to his rooms, but he doused that idea before it could flare up. That would be inappropriate.

  Reaching the chambers allotted to the Vessels, he unlocked the door and led the way inside. On the bed, the robes intended for the sacrifice were already laid out. He watched as Raz approached the bed and reached out to lightly touch the robes.

  He startled when Raz suddenly turned to face him, struggling to breathe all over again at the intensity of Raz's eyes. "Faithful Dym," Raz said softly.

  Dym turned away, eyes stinging, and went to go dig through the wardrobe. He did not want such kind words, did not want to hope that they meant he was forgiven.