Ryel opened his eyes. Still he was on his knees at his mother's side, holding both of her hands. But now her fingers were warm, and his cold.
He could not speak yet, but only whisper. "Mira."
His mother was yet far in sleep, but her pain-worn pallor had fled, driven out by the beauty he remembered from his boyhood, and that all the Steppes had marveled at and sung of.
How fair you are, Ryel thought. Mira Silestra, beloved of Edris Lord Adept of Markul, mother of his son—
His eyes burnt, his body ached to the bone, his wits gyred. But he could not rest. Not yet, not until…
Releasing his mother's hands, he unfastened the brooches clasping the bodice of the gown, and unlaced the opening of the linen shift. He breathed freely for the first time. The cure was complete. His mother's flesh was as whole and sound as in the days he drank life from it. With a physician's calm Ryel completed the examination, and fastened again the brooches and laces, but that once done, he buried his face in his hands to cool his eyes' burning, and clenched his teeth to calm his heart.
Ah, Edris. Dearer to me than father and my father indeed, why did you never tell me? Why did I never divine the truth when it stood so plain? For I know it is the truth, even though that evil voice spoke it; knew it in my secret heart since childhood, doubtless, when I saw that Yorganar and I shared little more than a roof and a name. Knew it when I knelt at your feet before the walls of Markul, and felt your hand so harsh and gentle in my hair. You gave your last breath to me; believe it that I would do as much for this woman you loved.
He went to the window-curtain, untied and lifted it. A chill night breeze caught him full in the face. The sun had set in the last hour, and now only a blood-red bar of dying light forced a swath between blackness and blackness.
"You're out there," he whispered, speaking to his father's murderer. "I feel you, Dagar." But amid the darkness of his rage and his sorrow drove a burning doubt, for he realized that the unbidden voice which haunted his thoughts had never spoken to him save when night drew on.
Healing his mother had drawn hard upon his strength, and he felt weary to the marrow of his bones. He lit the lamps at the doorway and then sat in meditation to quiet his thoughts, until a sudden turbulence outside the chamber made him start. Someone was approaching the compound, riding at a tearing pace; and then the rider dismounted. Ryel heard booted footsteps approaching Mira's yat almost at a run. Summoning what was left of his strength, the wysard rose and drew aside the curtain. Standing before him was a breathless beautiful youth in riding gear, high-colored and bold-featured, with light long hair glowing in the lamplight, and upslanting eyes of violet-tinged heaven-blue.
He knew who it had to be, but still wished to make sure. "Nelora?"
She nodded, but said nothing and kept her distance, looking him up and down. Finally she spoke, but not in welcome. "All the camp's talking about you."
"I'm not surprised. Word travels fast here." He couldn't help staring at her, for she was marvelously lovely, slim and boy-strong, glowing from a hard gallop. Her hair flowed nearly to her waist in ripples of pale gold, bound at the brow by a wide headband. Although her garments were like his own, she wore a silver chain around her neck, part of it tucked inside her linen shirt.
She frowned at his scrutiny. "Well? Are you who they say you are?"
"I'll let you decide," he said, hazarding a sudden guess. "Does that chain you're wearing have a sky-stone threaded onto it? An oval bead, carved with spirals?"
At his question her eyes that were so uncannily like the Sovrena Diara's widened and blinked. "How…how could you have known that?"
"Because it was my sky-stone, little sister. A pretty trinket I bought from a trader, and gave to you as a gift on your first birthday." He felt himself grinning. "As I recall, you tried to eat it, but I stopped you."
Nelora tugged at the chain and produced the turquoise pendant; gazed from it to Ryel, and then jabbed out to give his bicep an irate little thump.
"High time you came home, brother," she said, next entwining her hands in his, gazing up in mingled joy and reproach. "Why did you stay so long away?"
I can understand why the braves here worship you, the wysard thought. Aloud he said, "I had to learn my art. Such learning does not come quickly, and cannot be interrupted."
Nelora jerked her hands from his. "Why did you come at all, to come too late? No healer yet has been able to help our mother, save to give her sleeping-draughts and pain-allays. The tabib Grustar has said that—" she bit her lip and blinked—" that she has not long before—" she turned from him in impatient grief and anger, but Ryel took her by both shoulders and made her face him again.
"Look at me, little sister. Grustar I remember from my childhood, and never knew him a fool or a liar. But my skill is greater than his. Our mother is well again, because I healed her."
Nelora stared at him helplessly, her belief now stretched to breaking. "You could not," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks, her voice breaking. "With my own eyes I've seen what ails our mother, and it is terrible. Horrible. Do not tell me you think to heal it. Don't, or I'll…"
Another voice silenced her, sweet as soft music. "Then I will tell you, daughter, myself. He has."
Mira had risen from her bed, and now she moved to stand between her children, turning that terrible moment to rejoicing. "Believe him, child. Believe his every word. For too long I've been kept from this, and this." She drew her son and her daughter close to her heart. "No more tears, my eaglets, ever again. Tonight we'll revel."
Nelora would not let her go, hugging in that winning way Ryel remembered with a pang. "But are you really healed? Really well again?"
With a soft laugh Mira hugged back. "Ah, little one, never in my life have I painted this color you now see in my face, that I'd lost for so long. And now you must greet your brother Ryel kindly, who traveled far for my sake."
Nelora flung her arms around Ryel's neck, pressing her smooth wet cheek against her brother's bearded one; and Ryel embraced her close, and felt as if his eyes were on fire.
*****
That night they were joyful. Shiran was asked to the feast with his sister Yalena, as was the clan chief Khirgar, and many others. During the celebration Ryel noted how Khirgar barely spoke to Mira but ever gazed on her with looks yearning and awed; and the wysard thought of Diara, Sovrena of the City of Gold. But most of all he remembered Edris and the years he had spent with him learning the Art, and those innumerable instances of kindness and severity far surpassing any mere kinsman's care.
I was blind, ithradrakis, he thought. Blind as I was that night you came to Yorganar's yat and kissed my mother's hands, and looked into her eyes far more deeply than Shiran is now looking into my sister's.
Sometime after midnight the guests had departed and Nelora had staggered yawning to her bed, but Ryel and Mira still sat together upon the deep cushions scattered over the carpet, close to the open yat-flap that let in the moonlight, enjoying their communion as they conversed in the palace dialect of Almancar, their private language. A tray held the last of the wine, and the flickering remains of the many candles that had lighted the feast.
"It's grown cold," Ryel said. "Let me get your shawl."
Mira shook her head. "Only lend me your cloak awhile."
Ryel did so, draping the red-purple folds about his mother's shoulders. Mira smiled her thanks. "How well this holds your warmth."
"Just as it once held my father's."
Mira had been filling their glasses again, but her fingers trembled, and some of the wine dropped wet rubies upon the gem-tinted rug. "How did you learn? From Edris?"
"No."
"He kept his promise. I half hoped he would not." She set the glass aside. "I always wanted to tell you. I might have told you tonight."
"Mother—"
She looked up at him, deep into his eyes, for the first time in reproach. "But when would you have told me of Edris' death? No, say nothing now. I have known for
two months almost, and wept all my tears out. Only the pain is left, which in many ways surpasses a cancer's agony."
Ryel drew back, amazed. "But how could you have learned?"
Mira fixed her gaze on the black sky beyond the yat. "Three months ago I was riding out to the grazing-lands with Nelora, when suddenly it seemed that a shadow passed, and something sharp and chill drove into my heart like an arrow, so that I fainted, and fell from my horse. And then I looked round and saw Edris as he had been at our first meeting, young and wild in warrior's gear. And he lifted me up and held me in his arms, and kissed me, and I was joyful. But as he kissed me his lips turned deadly cold, until I cried out; and when I next opened my eyes I was here in the yat, and Nelora was at my side with the tabib Grustar. And I understood what the vision meant, and fainted yet again."
Ryel too looked away. "Yes. Three months ago it happened."
"You have the right to kill me at any moment," Mira said after a long silence. "The laws of the Elhin Gazal command an eldest son to punish his adulterous mother with death."
"The Rismai are harsh and unforgiving, but you and I are not. Tell me how you came to love Edris, and he you."
Mira smiled, sadly. "Do you remember the epic of Kergestin and Nilandor?"
Ryel nodded. "You taught me High Almancarian with its help. But Kergestin was evil and cruel, and sought his brother's death."
"In that respect Yorganar differed much from the twin of the tale," replied Mira. "Yet in the romance, Kergestin persuades his brother, who is as gentle and accomplished as his twin is uncouth and ignorant, to woo the lady Aphresmene in his stead; and the ruse succeeds."
She told him, then, her own tale: how she was barely seventeen when she traveled to the great springtide horse-muster at Risma, to see the strange folk of the Steppes while her father chose the best of the herds for his stables, and the finest of the women's weavings for his collection of rarities. The twin brothers Yorganar and Edris were young warriors then, famed for the strength of their sword-arms and the excellence of their horsemanship; together they had come to buy the foal that would become the fabled stallion Windskimmer. Together they wooed Mira, Yorganar for his own sake, Edris for Yorganar's; and so like were they to one another that the damsel could not tell which of the two told her tales of battle around the fires that lit the steppes those nights of the fair, or sang to her the ancient ballads of the Rismai, or made her afraid with the reckless perfection of his riding during the races and the tourneys.
"I never knew," Mira said, her voice soft with revery. "Only after Yorganar and I were wed and Edris had departed for Markul did I wonder that Yorganar no longer had any wish to dance, nor any skill at music; that he had lost those wild graces of laughter and of wit, and no longer looked into my eyes with that comprehending tenderness that ever made me tremble…" Her voice broke, and she drew away.
Ryel reached for her hand. "Mother—"
She let her hand be held, and after a time returned the gentle pressure. "I cannot help but mourn, Ryel. Indeed I think sometimes I weep for Yorganar, who all his life never spoke of the cheat he'd used to win me, but all his life suffered for with guilt and sorrow, because he knew I loved not him, but his brother. In time I came to admire what there was to admire in Yorganar, and not sigh overmuch for those qualities he could never possess. I was wife to him, and conceived by him, and was joyful, because I longed greatly for a child. But I miscarried of my first, which broke my heart almost; and worse came a year later, for I lost my second child in the fourth month. What with my body's weakness and my heart's sickness, for a long time I lay between life and death."
"You never told me of that before."
"I never could, until now." And Mira continued her tale, softly in the silence of the night.
"Between life and death I lay; then I opened my eyes one morning with Edris' name on my lips, and found Edris himself kneeling at my bedside. He had changed much--pale from hard study in a sunless place, his beard shaven clean, his hair shorn close. And the sight of him made my heart beat again. 'So this is paradise,' I said to him, holding out my hand; and I was glad, so glad.
"But he said, 'No, little star'—that had ever been his name for me, and I had wondered after my marriage that Yorganar never called me by it—'no, this is life, and you must return to it.'
"And I asked what had caused him to come to me, and he laughed almost angrily, and answered, 'My brother, who cherishes your life considerably more than he values his own, rode all the way from the Steppes to the walls of Markul and shouted for me as if at a tavern door, until those watching sent to have me come and see the madman. And he was at least half-mad, was my brother, from a long journey alone through thirsty desert, and from fear for you, and fear of the place he was.'
"My heart was wrung and torn by those words, and I said, 'Ah, Edris, it was cruel of you both, to toss my heart like a plaything between you.'
"But he only replied, 'Hush. You are well now, and I can return to my City.'
"And I said to him, in sorrow and anger and pain: 'Know that every kiss I ever gave Yorganar was meant for you, Edris. Go back now to your sorcerer's roost, and never forget that of all the many women's mouths you ever tasted, mine that you scorned was sweetest.' And Edris made no reply; but his eyes were like burning coals.
"That night Yorganar came to my bed, as was his right; but I had never known him so wild and hungry before, even as I had never known such pleasure. And I ran my hands through his long hair, and his beard; and the hair instantly grew short, and the face smooth, and we looked into each other's eyes and laughed, Edris and I.
"All that night we loved eagerly, while the rest of the household slept under enchantment. But as the night grayed toward the dawn, Edris took my hand and led me into the Steppes, where we walked together and spoke of what had passed between us.
"'I am with child," I said. 'I feel it.'
"For a long time Edris was silent, and then he said: 'Tomorrow I will return to Markul; and tomorrow night you must lie with Yorganar, and the next morning awake to a dull round of sameness and falsehood. This was wrong love.' But I only thought of you, within my womb like a star; and never had I felt so joyful in my life before."
Mira fell silent, clearly remembering that time; and after some moments Ryel spoke.
"Was my father there when I was born?"
Mira nodded, still in revery. "He was. But I did not know him at first, because he had assumed the shape of a woman, to deceive the midwives—for as you are aware, among the Rismai no man may be present at a childbirth." She smiled. "He fooled everyone. Even Yorganar had no idea."
Ryel tried to envision the hulking wysard-warrior as a female; smiled back at his mother. "Who was his companion?"
"An enchantress, formerly of Markul. I recall Edris telling me that in reality she was more than sixty years old, although she looked barely half that." Mira's eyes, pure clear blue with the faintest tinge of violet, studied the flame of the candle at her side. "Even at the crisis of the pain, I was joyful; for Edris held me in his arms when I was all but overcome with the throes, and whispered words that made me strong. And when you emerged into the world, his were the hands that received you."
Blinking burning eyes, Ryel drew a deep breath so he could speak. "And you saw him a last time when I was thirteen. I remember how you ran out of the yat to follow him."
Mira sighed. "I know I made you very angry. But I had to speak with him. Had to kiss him again and again, warm under his cloak… this cloak…" She colored at the memory, but not in a blush. "I loved him beyond my life, Ryel."
Ryel fixed his gaze on the candle-flames, the quivering tiny lights dying one by one. "As did I."
"After you were born and before he returned again to Markul, Edris instructed me to watch you carefully as you grew. He said that if you showed signs of ambidexterity, you might well have the power of magic, as he had. Against Yorganar's wishes I had you educated as well or better than you might have been in Almancar; but I also
wished you to be strong, the better to endure the harshness of the trials Markul would inflict on you, should you someday dwell there. Therefore I encouraged Yorganar to impart to you all his knowledge of the use of arms."
"You haven't yet asked how Edris died."
"I fear what you will tell me. I cannot bear to think he died in pain."
"He did not," Ryel said; and he despised himself for the lie, especially because his mother was so quick to believe it. "But he was nonetheless killed, my mother."
She stared at him, her face very pale. "But who could have killed him? Or what?"
"A malignant daimon, I am told. A force of evil, Dagar by name; a thing neither alive nor dead, seeking to return embodied to the World. And since Edris' death I have been tormented by a voice within, ever goading me with taunts and scorns…Dagar's voice, I now believe it might be."
"Then you will find this enemy, and avenge Edris' death?"
"Dagar is beyond the reach of my vengeance. And whoever the voice belongs to, it warned me of your illness, and helped me to heal you; for that I am grateful. But I'll not be led by it any further. I'll remain here with you for a while longer, and then return to my City." He stood up. "We'll speak more of these things, but at another time. The hour's late."
"Here, help me up. I'll sleep, too."
They stood together silently embraced for a time; and then Mira spoke. "I owe you my life, my own."
Ryel touched his lips to her cheek. "I but gave back what I received."
Awhile again they fell silent, mother and son. Then Ryel spoke again. "My heart-name for Edris was always ithradrakis."
"'Dearer than father.'" Mira smiled. "So you have not forgotten your language lessons in the palace tongue of my city."
"All that was taught me, I remember," Ryel said, returning the smile. "Every beautiful word—like ilandrakis, 'dearer than brother.' And silestra, 'as fair within as without'—always my name for you."
The Ryel Saga: A Tale of Love and Magic Page 11
