The King of Talbos (The Eastern Slave Series Book 6)

by Victor Poole

  "Look at me," Ajalia said, and Fallor jumped a little, and looked at her. Ajalia put the cord of blue light into Fallor's right eye; the magic passed easily down through the young man's eye and into his heart. Ajalia hooked the blue magic into each of the three pieces of hidden magic, and they began to burn white.

  "Ow," Fallor murmured, rubbing at his heart. "What are you doing to me?"

  "Look into my eyes again," Ajalia said, and she put another cord of blue into the young man's left eye. This time the blue light shimmered and rubbed along the surface of the young man's eye, and refused to sink in. "Come here," Ajalia told the young man. She took Fallor's elbow, and led him towards his father. The old king looked up, and his fingers tightened over the hilt of the knife that he held.

  "Have you given up already, slave girl?" the old king asked genially. A spark of hardness was in the old king's voice; Ajalia could see that the old man was angry with her.

  "No, there are three pieces concealed," Ajalia said. "I have not yet drawn them out, because the young man has an implant from you. I do not wish to harm you, old man."

  The king bristled.

  "I am not so old that I cannot hold my own against you," the king told Ajalia. She did not return his smile.

  "You have tried to protect the child," Ajalia told the king. "I do not wish to damage his spirit. Withdraw your protection from him, and I will draw out the evil that has infested his heart."

  "I'm not a child," Fallor muttered. Ajalia ignored him. She knew that the king saw Fallor still as a precious little son, and she was speaking now to the king. She would never have called Fallor a child to his face, but she knew that the way to the old king's heart was through his love for his young son.

  "I have not put anything into the boy," the king told Ajalia. His lips were drawn firmly against his teeth.

  "I told you that you had a twitch," Ajalia told the king, "just below your left eye." She still held a scrap of the blue magic in her hand, and she sent it straight underneath the king's left eye, and made the gathered magic there glow bright blue. The king gasped, and clapped a hand again to his eye.

  "You get away from me, you witch," the king hissed. He did not speak with venom; he seemed to be responding reflexively.

  "I have illuminated three pieces, just around Fallor's heart," Ajalia said. She pushed the young man before his father, and the old king studied Fallor closely. Ajalia saw the color drain gradually from the old king's face; she knew that he saw the three pieces.

  "Who put these into you, my son?" the king demanded, his eyes growing bright with hatred. Fallor shook his head helplessly.

  "I know not, father," Fallor said.

  "Withdraw your protection," Ajalia told the king, "and I will take out the three pieces." The king studied his son, and then he looked at Ajalia.

  "If you harm my son," the king said slowly, "I will destroy you." Ajalia bent her head to show she had heard, and the king, with a shuddering sigh, closed his eyes, and then opened them. "All right," the king told Ajalia. "Be quick, child."

  Ajalia turned to Fallor, the gold and black coating forming quickly into a claw over her hand.

  "Hold still," she told Fallor, and the young man, who looked uneasy, glanced at Delmar. Delmar was standing with his arms folded over his chest, and he nodded at Fallor. Ajalia thrust the shining black claw into the young man's chest. Her fingers pressed down flat against Fallor's chest, and she imagined the claw cutting down around the first of the shimmering pieces.

  "Ow!" Fallor complained, putting his hand over Ajalia's.

  "Don't touch," she snapped, pushing his hand away. She pictured the gold and red lights forming up in a coating around her free hand, and she lifted the first piece free of Fallor. The young man let out a great gasp, and fell almost to his knees. "Don't be dramatic," Ajalia told the young man. "Hold him," she told Delmar. Delmar stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Fallor's body, holding him upright.

  "That hurts," Fallor said, his voice breathless. Ajalia ignored him, and cut away at the second piece. The king was watching this with eager eyes; when Ajalia dropped the first piece, and then the second on the floor, he stared down at the shining pieces of magic with fascination in his eyes.

  "Who made these?" the king asked.

  "Don't touch them," Ajalia told the king harshly, and the old man looked up at her, and withdrew his hand. She removed the final piece from Fallor, and then quickly bound the young man into lights from the ground and the sky. Ajalia imagined the mixed lights gleaming together into a white mass in the young man's center, and then she added a swift shell of protective red light around Fallor's whole body, so that the king would be unable to enter the young man again.

  Ajalia stepped back from the young man, and shook the magic away from her hands. Delmar let go of Fallor, and the young man moved gingerly away from him.

  "Can you do any magic?" Ajalia asked Fallor. Fallor glanced at his father, who made a tiny movement with his head.

  "No," Fallor said.

  "Kill the three pieces," Ajalia told Delmar, and then she squatted down near the king's chair.

  "Wait," the king said, his eyes fixed on the three pieces of shimmering magic. The pieces were beautiful, in a twisted way. They had been carefully formed, and their edges were delicate and fine. They did not remind Ajalia of any particular shape, but they were far superior to the clumsy thick pieces that Ajalia had taken out of the men in Slavithe.

  "Do it," Ajalia told Delmar, and Delmar exploded each of the pieces in turn. He formed a kind of invisible shell around the pieces as he did so, and the fine thick powder that exploded from the three pieces made miniature snowstorms within the shell.

  "They smell terrible," Delmar told the king, "when you burst them."

  "We should have kept them," the king said angrily. "They might have told us who made them."

  "We don't need the pieces," Ajalia told the king. "I know who made them." The king looked swiftly at her.

  "No," the king said slowly. "You cannot know."

  "You don't want to know," Ajalia told the king, "but I know."

  "Who made them?" Fallor asked, sounding uneasy. Ajalia looked at the young man; she saw that a faint gleam of white was just beginning to show over Fallor's heart.

  "Your brand is growing," Ajalia told the young man.

  "Is it really?" Fallor asked eagerly. He patted at his chest, and looked at his father. "Can you see it?" he asked.

  The old king looked at his son; all the light drained out of his face, and Ajalia thought that if the old king had not already been sitting down, he would have fallen.

  "Oh, my son," the old king breathed. Delmar's grandfather put a hand to his own chest, and gasped for air. "Now I can die in peace," the old king said, and he closed his eyes. Ajalia saw a pair of tears seeping down the old man's cheeks.

  "Don't die yet," Ajalia said. "They'll be back to eat him up again, if you do nothing."

  The king glared up at her, anger flashing like lightning into his eyes.

  "Tell me who it was," the king commanded her. Ajalia looked at Delmar, who was watching the scene with a frown.

  "What do you think?" Ajalia asked Delmar. Delmar glanced at her.

  "Ask for what you want first," Delmar told her, "and get it in writing."

  The old man began to cackle. He raised a hand, and snapped his fingers. Fallor went to a shelf, and retrieved paper and a pen.

  "Anything I write can be undone," the old king told Delmar. "I assume you know this." Delmar shrugged.

  "You have always been a man of honor," Delmar told his grandfather. "You will not go back if you agree and sign to terms." Delmar's grandfather watched Delmar narrowly, his cheeks pinched together. Ajalia thought that the old man was weighing Delmar, and searching for signs of weakness.

  "You were not like this before," the king told Delmar. Fallor brought the paper and pen to his father, laid out on a small writing box made of engraved wood. "Delmar used to be quite bland," the king said to
Ajalia.

  "I know," Ajalia said. She nodded at Delmar. "He's going to be your heir," Ajalia said. The king went very still, and watched her narrowly.

  "Why?" the king asked.

  "Your daughter is a fool, your sons are weak and corrupted with the desire for power, and Delmar has me to protect and guide him," Ajalia said. Her words left her in rapid succession, and piled down on the old king like neat blocks that built together into a strong wall. "His father was your heir, and now his father is dead. Delmar is your natural heir. And if you do not make Delmar your heir," Ajalia said, "there will be war within a year." The old king breathed in and out. He held the pen in one hand, and the knife lay quietly across his knees.

  "What if I do not agree?" the king asked. Ajalia smiled at the king, and she saw an involuntary shudder move through the old man's eyes.

  "Then I will take what I want, and your name will be broken," she said. The old king blinked.

  "You are a slave," the king said.

  Your people believe that I am the sky angel," Ajalia told the old man. "Delmar believes the same. And I can fly," she added, as though that decided things. Fallor was watching her with a quiet intensity in his eyes.

  "I could fight her for you, father," Fallor murmured. The old man raised a hand.

  "You do not understand the thing you say, my son," the old king said. "Keep out of these matters until you are strong, like me." Fallor's eyes seemed to boil with violent desire, but he bent his head obediently to his father. "What would you do," the king asked Delmar, "if I denounced this woman as a witch, and put her though the tests?"

  "She has volunteered for the tests," Delmar told his grandfather. "Ajalia has a pure heart. She would pass, and the people would have proven her as the angel."

  "There are no sky angels," the old king snapped, looking impatient. "And I do not trust you," he added, looking at Ajalia.

  "You would be a fool to trust me," Ajalia told the king, "but you will be dead soon, and your kingdom is in great disarray."

  "And you intend to arrange my kingdom for me?" the king asked, sounding thoroughly amused.

  "I do," Ajalia said. "Delmar has told you now, hasn't he, about the priests and the witches in Slavithe? Your own spies have turned against you, and you did not know. Your house is riddled with petty gossip. Your children have no discipline, or power of their own. Thorn is the one," Ajalia said, nodding towards Fallor. "Thorn has taken pieces of Lerond, and then used your own power against you. You could not find the pieces in Fallor," Ajalia told the king, "because they were wrapped up in your own soul." The king's eyes were narrowed to slits, and he was breathing very slowly through bared teeth.

  "How could you know this?" the king asked. Ajalia lifted her palm, and filled it with colored lights, as the children in Slavithe made story magic.

  "Here is the piece from you," Ajalia told the king, and Fallor, who was watching avidly. Ajalia saw that Fallor could see the magic now. A crest of bright white had begun to spread wide, in the shape of a shield, over the young man's chest. Fallor was standing up straighter, and holding himself more like a man. He looked already more grown up. Ajalia was sure, from the expression in the king's eyes, that the old man saw the swift change growing in his youngest son.

  "Thorn or Lerond, I don't know which, took a piece of you. You have sought to protect your children, haven't you?" she asked the king. The old man nodded cautiously. "So Thorn wore a piece of your soul, and your daughter also," Ajalia said. Again, the old king nodded, his eyes fixed on the piece of colored magic that Ajalia had made in the shape of one of the pieces that had lain concealed in Fallor's chest. "It would be a simple thing, for Lerond to take such a piece from his wife, and for Thorn take it, and to wrap it around this," Ajalia told the king. She peeled away the outer layer of the piece, and made a picture over her palm of the center of the piece, which was teeming with darkness, and rotten green light that was filled through with squirming white dead pieces that looked like maggots, and were reminiscent in texture to the thick white soul of paste that Delmar's mother had worn.

  When Ajalia made this picture, both Fallor and the old king let out sharp exclamations of disgust. Delmar watched Ajalia speak with a kind of detached pleasure; he looked like a man who watches his own champion sheepdog form his flocks.

  "This piece," Ajalia said, pointing at the rotten green thing that teemed with mealy worms, "is what kept your son Fallor from growing into manhood. He has been simple, has he not? Slow in the head?" Ajalia asked. The king hesitated, and then looked over at his son.

  "I've been a disappointment, father," Fallor said in a clear voice. "You don't need to protect me from that. I lived it." The old king smiled weakly, and shrugged at Ajalia.

  "How did you know this?" the old man asked. The old king's eyes went towards Delmar. "Did your Thief Lord tell you this?" the king asked. Ajalia shook her head.

  "Delmar was afflicted in this way," Ajalia told the king. "His family had worked him over in this way. I cleared him of these evils, and now he is the Thief Lord."

  The king studied Delmar.

  "May I see your soul?" the king asked Delmar, and Delmar said that he could not. The king sighed. "I suppose it is as you say," the king told Delmar. "She is the sky angel, if there is one. And you want me to disown my other children, in favor of your Thief Lord?" the king asked Ajalia.

  "He is your direct heir," Ajalia pointed out.

  "I disowned Simon long ago," the king replied.

  "And your children now are prey to each other, and to Lerond," Ajalia said. "Restore the true order of the succession, and make peace between what children you will have left."

  "Simon was a rotter," the king said.

  "I killed my father to take my place as Thief Lord," Delmar said. "I am on your side, not his. He wanted to kill me. He tried, several times." The old king studied Delmar.

  "That's the first I've heard of that," Delmar's grandfather said.

  "Hal was sent, more than once," Delmar said. "I dissuaded him. Hal rather likes Ajalia." Delmar looked over at Ajalia. "Hal has come with me before, to Talbos," Delmar explained. He nodded towards his grandfather. "He's met Hal."

  "I liked Hal," the old king said suspiciously. A reluctant sigh was building up around the edges of his face. The old king tapped the pen against the wooden writing desk.

  "I think you should do as Ajalia says," Fallor said to his father. The old king made a crooked smile.

  "You say that because she's had her hands on you," the old king said accusingly.

  "Father, I am not a child," Fallor said. "The woman speaks sense."

  "Yes, and she's a slave," the old king said.

  "And you're being petulant," Ajalia pointed out. "I did as you asked. Have you got anything else you'd like me to do while I'm here?" The old king stared at her, and blinked slowly. His blue eyes were very like an old owl's. He looked, to Ajalia, like the sort of man who would have laughed freely in his younger days.

  "Show me Thorn and Lerond are together in this," the old king said, "and I will execute them both, and name Delmar my heir."

  "You will name him heir, and you will crown him," Ajalia said. The room got rather tense again. Fallor and Delmar both seemed ready to fling themselves at each other, or at the old man, if he moved towards Ajalia.

  "I will not," the old king said calmly.

  "You are no longer strong or keen," Ajalia said. "Your days have passed. It is customary to pass the succession before the death of the king."

  "You want to destroy all my family," the old king said shrewdly.

  "I want Delmar made king," Ajalia said. The old king watched her, and pursed his lips.

  "What'll you do with Slavithe?" the old man demanded. "You can't live both places, or keep either place in proper order, if you're here, or there. What will you do about that?"

  "Ajalia's master is going to live in Slavithe," Delmar said. "He is a just man."

  "Oh ho!" the old king laughed. He looked with glee between Ajalia
and Delmar. "A man from the East! A trader of silks, rule in Slavithe! What will the people there have to say, I wonder?"

  "They will do as their Thief Lord commands," Ajalia said. "Your guards here are very afraid of me. They say that I will destroy Slavithe, and that the people there will flee to Talbos, and overrun your streets. It will not be so. I will not destroy Slavithe, but I will build up a finer city, and bring a new order, and a great prosperity to the land. You will be then hard-pressed to keep your own people at home. If you do not make Delmar the next king, your own people will revolt, and name him king without your say. They will crown him themselves."

  "They would never do that," the king hissed softly. He did not look vicious, or angry, but his eyes were dancing, and Ajalia saw that he was thinking in vivid pictures of what she said. "You could never do that," the old king said again. "It will be years for you to order your land," he told Delmar, "and then to fetch her silk trader will take months, or longer. You may die on the journey, and then what?" The old man flung his hands in the air. "What then for my people, if you are their king?"

  Delmar, without a word, rose up into the air. He floated steadily up into the center of the room, and then descended, landing gently before the chair of the old king.

  "I am no longer bound," Delmar told his grandfather, "by the constraints of travel. And my slave will build a winged horse for her master to ride."

  The old man was silent for a long time, his eyes turning from Ajalia to Delmar, and back again.

  "So," the old man said. "So, you are figures from the old stories, and you will have your way with or without me."

  "Yes," Delmar said.

  "And I suppose she is going to be your sky angel," the old man, "and lead the pure of heart into the sky kingdom."

  "I do not know about the sky kingdom," Delmar said, "but Ajalia is my sky angel, yes."

  The king sat back, and stared at them both.

  "Well," he said. He lifted Ajalia's knife, and handed it back to her. She took it, and sheathed it. "Your knife suits you," the old king told her. She did not smile at him. "I see that you both mean to do it," the king said to Delmar. Delmar nodded. "I will not stand in your way," his grandfather said to him. "You have grown quite beyond me, now, Delmar. But I have three small requests."