by Dave Duncan
“Understandably so,” Rigel said, straight-faced. So Red Justice had also been watching over Talitha, the last surviving Naos? He wondered how much they had tried to guard the others who had died, but it would be unwise to ask. “And your story about the Moon Garden? All moonbeams?”
“Unfortunately it was,” the mage admitted sourly. “It backfired. When Muphrid learned that your amulet was the ancestral Saiph, he knew exactly how to get back in Vildiar’s good books. In truth he had never been out of them. He rushed over to Phegda with the news. Vildiar wasn’t there, but Hadar’s gang was, and they moved in to make sure that Saiph could never become a threat to them.”
This sounded like the truth at last. Rigel nodded. “Thank you, my lord. Let us work together to remove, or at least confound, the Phegda evil.”
The mage sneered. “Your good intentions vastly exceed your capacity. Now that I have admitted to possessing a modicum of prescience, will you not believe me when I tell you that only an early death awaits you here in the Starlands? I am certain of this.”
A cold chill told Rigel that he believed this prophecy. “How long have I got?”
“Three months, maybe four.”
“Remind me again when it gets down to a week, will you?”
Fomalhaut rose and stared down at Rigel with venomous dislike. “You are exhausted, tweenling. I will see that the imp is not molested, and perhaps put a few more safety catches on his Lesath. Go upstairs and sleep. You are in no fit state to perform your duties at present. Also, I have a repugnant hunch that you will need all your strength later this evening.”
“Not if I am given any choice in the matter, my lord.”
The mage snorted and strode away, but Rigel was serious. The dream was over. Talitha could not afford to jeopardize her throne with a major scandal right at the start of her reign. Maybe she could risk a half-breed lover in a century or two, but not now. She would have to enter a formal pairing with a true starborn, maybe Elgomaisa, or whatever his name was. Cue the violins—D minor, doloroso.
He took a tour of the building in the company of Olga and Sphinx Praecipua. He vetoed the sleeping quarters they had assigned, and chose others, where Talitha would have access to Izar, and any intruder would have to go past Rigel himself to get to either of them. His decisions were accepted without argument, a respect he found frightening. The last few days had changed him and he did not know this new, dangerous, involved person he had become. He had a cause to serve and that alone was unfamiliar. He had a duty that conflicted with his own impulses, which was even stranger.
He went outside for a hasty swim in the millpond and confirmed that Izar was in no trouble—he was just creating lots of it for other people.
Then he dragged himself up the narrow wooden stairs, flopped on top of his bed, and put what Izar would call his “self” into a bottomless sleep, devoid of dreams.
He roused briefly when Izar slammed the door and stamped across the room toward the one that had been assigned to him. Talitha must have arrived, because nobody else would have managed to discipline the boy.
“Good night,” Rigel murmured. Answered by another slam, he put himself back to sleep.
A dream came to him in darkness. He opened his eyes to see a woman leaning over him, a woman of unimaginable beauty clothed in a trillion stars, for her skin gleamed with them from the tips of her ears down to her hips. Her hair was a galaxy of multicolored flames.
Instantly awake, he barked, “No! Go away! You mustn’t!”
“Mustn’t?”
“Mustn’t!” He clutched the sheet tight under his chin. “You are queen now. You cannot have a sordid love affair with a mongrel like me. You are too young to rule, but the starfolk will prefer you to Vildiar, for they all know of his crimes. Even so, they will surely turn against you if you flaunt a half-breed lover in their faces.”
Mercifully she moved away. She sat on the edge of the bed and the eyes that stared back into his were deadly. “I am queen of the Starlands, and I will do anything I like with anyone I please.”
Rigel moaned. “No! The diehards like Fomalhaut will not accept that. They won’t.” The mage had come close to telling him so.
Her starry aura burned redder, hotter. “You are telling me that one halfling lover is wrong but hundreds of mudlings would be all right? That’s their choice.”
“Vildiar does what he does for power. They all know that. You would be doing it for lust, or that’s what they’ll say, anyway.” He was right, but oh, how it hurt!
“I need you,” Talitha said. “I need you for Izar, because I know that Hadar will try to use him against me again. I need you to be here always, whenever I need you, to make me whole, to keep me sane, to tell me I am beautiful, to remind me yet again why life is worth fighting for.”
“Then name Vildiar your heir and abdicate. You told me you didn’t want to be queen.”
She sighed. “Did I? But when Electra put the Light of Naos on me, I felt a bond sealed. I sensed the Starlands, in all their majesty. I was joined to them and all the starfolk… I can never abandon my people to Vildiar. He is a cancer, and he will bribe and conspire and traduce. Hadar will threaten and kidnap and slaughter. Without my rule, the realm will fall apart and fade into the void. But Rigel, Rigel, I need you!”
His self-control was snow in an oven. “I’m here,” he said, “always. I’m yours, always. Whenever you want, and for as long as you want. But not this, please! If they suspect… I must be able to stand on the Star of Truth and say that I have never been your lover, that you let me kiss you only once—nothing more.”
“I love you!”
Rigel groaned and tried to roll away. Invisible hands rolled him back.
He whimpered. “Please, please, Talitha, go away and stop torturing me.”
She sighed again and stood up, her aura fading to dismal blues and purples. “You are right, of course, and I am being cruel. For now… But remember that I love you.”
“And I love you,” he whispered.
She faded into the darkness, leaving him in misery.
And now he had all the more reason to kill Vildiar.
End of Book One
About the Author
LILA KLASSEN
Dave Duncan is a prolific writer of fantasy and science fiction, whose books have been translated into more than a dozen languages. He is best known for his fantasy series, particularly The Seventh Sword, A Man of His Word, The King’s Blades, and Against the Light. He and his wife Janet, his in-house editor and partner for over fifty years, live in Victoria, British Columbia. They have three children and four grandchildren.
