by John Marco
“Where’s Father?” he asked, changing the subject. “I thought he’d be here for breakfast.”
“Oh, your father’s in a state this morning,” said the king ruefully. “All night, too.”
“Jahl Rob?” Alazrian guessed.
Tassis Gayle nodded. “That priest is a devil. But that’s not for us to talk about, Alazrian. Let your father deal with the Saints. We have things to discuss, yes? I am pleased to see you back, my boy. I missed having you so near. Since your mother died …” He looked down at his plate. “Well, things have been difficult for me.”
Alazrian put a hand on the old man’s sleeve. “I miss her too.”
He thought the king might start weeping. This was what Biagio had warned him about, he realized suddenly. The moodiness, the uncontrolled emotion, the secrets; it was all part of a damaged psyche. They were the things that made Tassis Gayle dangerous.
“I wanted to see you last night, but Father wouldn’t let me,” said Alazrian. “He said he had business to discuss with you.”
Gayle shrugged off his grandson’s touch. “Enough business,” he said roughly. “I’m sick of it. Tell me more about Nar. What else did you see there?”
Alazrian realized then that his grandfather was deliberately avoiding him. Perhaps he felt Alazrian’s suspicions and didn’t want to feed them. Or maybe he simply hoped to spare his grandson the gruesome truth of things. Either way, he was only proving Biagio’s case.
“There wasn’t really much else to do,” said Alazrian. “We weren’t there very long. After his testimony, Father wanted to come right home. I think he was anxious to see you.”
Gayle took another bite of his food. Alazrian watched him carefully, gauging his reactions. Each mention of Leth, no matter how small, brought the same nervous twitch to the king’s eyebrows. Alazrian considered a different tact.
“I didn’t have to face the Protectorate,” he said. “Did Father tell you? Dakel didn’t bother with me. I guess he got all his answers from Father.”
“Yes,” agreed the king. “I suppose so.”
“I was relieved. Really, I didn’t know what Dakel had planned for me. Or for Father, for that matter. Some people thought we’d both be executed.”
The king looked at Alazrian questioningly. “Yes, that is a relief. A puzzlement, though. I wonder why Dakel summoned you, if not to speak to you himself. He didn’t speak to you, did he Alazrian?”
“Only to greet me when I arrived,” Alazrian answered. It was honest enough; he didn’t have to confess his audience with Biagio. “He seemed quite pleasant, actually. I think maybe he just wanted to frighten Father, by making him think I was in danger.”
“Probably,” said Gayle. “That is what I thought, too.” Then his smile returned. “Either way, I’m pleased to have you both out of there alive. And I’m glad you didn’t have to face the tribunal. It’s not something a boy should have to endure.”
“I’m not such a boy anymore,” said Alazrian, sensing an opportunity. “I’m sixteen.”
“Practically a man,” agreed Gayle, grinning.
“Yes, I think so. I mean, when you were sixteen you were already a horseman, right?”
“A brilliant one.”
They laughed.
“So sixteen isn’t so young,” Alazrian went on. “I think I’m old enough to start helping Father govern Aramoor.”
Gayle glanced up from his plate. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“But I can do things,” said Alazrian. He was careful not to argue, not to push too far. And it really wasn’t his father that he wanted to talk about. He just needed to open up the conversation. “I don’t need to be shielded from things anymore. As you say, I’m almost a man. Maybe it’s time I started taking on more responsibilities.”
Tassis Gayle’s expression darkened. “Don’t rush to grow up, Alazrian,” he said. “Getting old is the worst thing that happens to a man.”
“I’m not afraid,” said Alazrian. “Why should I be?”
“Because becoming a man means having all those responsibilities you talk about,” answered the king sharply. “It’s about losing things—not just your youth but also people you care about. Your children, even.”
There was so much pain in the old man’s face that Alazrian immediately regretted his insistence. The king pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair. He stared out over the distant ocean. It was the first time since coming outside that Alazrian noticed the sea at all.
“Getting older is the only thing young people think about,” said Gayle. “But they don’t understand what it means. They have dreams, big things they want to accomplish, and they think that it will all happen to them if only they could become an adult. You’re like that, Alazrian. You’re a dreamer, like your mother. But your mother’s time ran out, didn’t it?”
Alazrian didn’t know what to say. “Yes, it did.”
“Someday your time will run out, too. Then you’ll have to look back at everything you wanted to accomplish but didn’t, and you’ll have to face the fact that maybe you were a failure.”
“Grandfather, I …”
“It will hurt,” the king continued. “Believe me. Then you won’t like being old so much.”
“Grandfather,” said Alazrian, “you’ve accomplished so much. How can you think you haven’t?”
There was no answer from the king, just the sound of his breath. He seemed on edge suddenly, the very antithesis of the man who had greeted Alazrian just minutes ago.
“Grandfather? You know you’ve accomplished things, don’t you?”
“What things, boy? Can you list them?”
Alazrian gave a little laugh. “Oh, many things! You are king. Talistan has been restored under your rule. You’ve regained Aramoor. You’re respected. And you’re strong.”
The kind nodded. “Yes, I am strong.”
“That should be enough for any man.”
Gayle looked at him as if he understood his hidden meaning. “But there was supposed to be much more. I wanted to build a legacy for all of Nar to see and admire. I would have left it all to my son, if he hadn’t been taken from me.” The old man’s tone became angry. “I blame people for Blackwood’s death, Alazrian. He would have made a great ruler. He was strong like me. But now the Empire will never know that. Because of—”
He stopped just short of saying the name. Alazrian watched him intently, hoping the words would just fall out, but they never did. Tassis Gayle composed himself. He ran a hand through his hair and considered his breakfast, trying to pull himself back from the brink. Alazrian cleared his throat nervously.
“Well, you shouldn’t be upset,” he offered, not knowing what to say. “You have a legacy, Grandfather. You will always be remembered.”
For a moment there was a sardonic flash in the king’s eyes. “Yes,” he agreed. “Indeed I shall.”
They ate in awkward silence. Alazrian did what he could to put his grandfather at ease again, buttering his biscuits and offering him slabs of bacon, but still the pall would not lift from the table. Alazrian berated himself quietly while he ate, angry for pushing his grandfather. He was hiding things, certainly, but Alazrian hadn’t expected those things to be so painful. Clearly Biagio had been right about Tassis Gayle. The king hadn’t admitted his plot, but he hadn’t needed to. The guilt of it laced his every word.
Finally, Alazrian decided to break the silence, saying, “Do you think Father will be coming to breakfast? It’s getting cold.”
Gayle shook his head. “I told you, your father’s in a state. He’s planning on going after Jahl Rob.”
Alazrian dropped his fork. “What? Is he going into the mountains?”
“He’s had enough, and I don’t blame him. That priest assassinated a member of my own government. I can’t have lawlessness, not like that. It’s time that bastard payed for his crimes.”
“But the Triin,” argued Alazrian. “What about the lions?”
Tassis Gayle waved
his fork nonchalantly. “That’s a risk, yes. There may be Triin close enough to be trouble. But Jahl Rob and his Saints have survived somehow. Their hideout may be closer to the border than we thought.”
Alazrian sat back, considering the news. If Leth sent men into the mountains …
“Grandfather, when is this going to happen? Do you know?”
Gayle shrugged. “Soon as you get back to Aramoor, I imagine.”
“Is Father going with them?”
“I don’t think so. I think he’s planning on sending a patrol. Shinn will probably lead it.” Tassis Gayle paused and regarded Alazrian suspiciously. “Why are you so interested?”
Because I’ve just found my passage to the mountains, thought Alazrian.
“I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. Do you know where Father is now? I’d like to talk to him about it.”
“Now? What about your breakfast?”
“Grandfather, there’s enough food here for an army! Please, let me go speak with Father.”
“He’s down by the stables, I think, talking to Shinn. He said he wanted to practice shooting, clear his mind.” Gayle waved Alazrian over. “Give your crazy old grandfather a kiss first.”
Alazrian beamed at the old man. After all the emotional tussle, all he wanted was a kiss. He bent over the king and placed a peck on his head.
“I’ll see you later,” he promised. “We’ll spend some more time together.”
The king grunted, then shooed his grandson away. Alazrian left the balcony in a hurry. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had spent the entire voyage wondering how he was going to deliver Biagio’s letter, and now the opportunity was in front of him. All he had to do was convince Leth to let him go along. It wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn’t impossible either. He had already been asking to be treated more like a man. Here was a chance to prove himself.
Alazrian skirted the kitchens and navigated the stone corridors until he came to the courtyard. The yard led out over the open drawbridge and onto the parade field where the soldiers drilled. The stables were around the east side of the castle near the green the Gayles always used for an archery range. There, amid the budding wildflowers and insects, stood Elrad Leth, his arms folded over his chest as he waited for Shinn to take his shot. The Dorian had his bowstring drawn back and one eye closed as he spied the target, a circular bale of hay a remarkable distance away. Alazrian knew it was an easy shot for the marksman, but Shinn drew out the drama, taking his time before letting the arrow fly. There were other arrows around the bale, most littering the ground. These were Leth’s, Alazrian supposed. He walked over toward the two men quietly, waiting for Shinn to take his shot. A moment later the bodyguard loosed his bolt, letting it sail to the target. The shaft made a peculiar whistling sound before burying itself in the center of the bale.
“Excellent,” muttered Leth. “I can’t beat you today.”
Alazrian almost laughed. Or any other day, he thought.
“Father?” he called. “May I speak with you?”
Leth seemed surprised. He was about to nock another arrow, but lowered his bow as the boy approached, eyeing him curiously. Alazrian could see his annoyance.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” said Alazrian. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“About what?”
“Grandfather says you’re going after Jahl Rob. Is that right?”
“What if it is?”
Alazrian straightened. “I want to go, too.”
“You want to …?” Leth glanced at Shinn and started laughing. “Look, boy, this is a job for men. It’s dangerous, and no place for you.”
“I want to go,” said Alazrian again, measuring his tone carefully. He didn’t want Leth to think him petulant, but he couldn’t reveal his reasons, either. To be convincing, he had to play the eager boy. “Like I told you on the ship, I’m ready now. I can help, if you’ll let me.”
Exasperated, Leth shook his head. “No,” he said, then turned away to study the target.
“But why not?” pressed Alazrian. “Father, I can ride, and I’m stronger than I look. If you give me a chance, I won’t disappoint you. I promise.” Alazrian put on his most imploring face. “Let me prove myself to you. Please?”
For a moment Leth appeared ready to strike Alazrian, but then his face contorted into something like a smile. He considered the proposition, looking between Alazrian and Shinn. Finally, he lowered his bow to the ground and leaned against it.
“All right, then,” he said. “If you believe in yourself so much, let’s see you prove it. I could do with a real son. Maybe this patrol will make a man of you.”
Inwardly, Alazrian grinned. Leth could be so gullible sometimes. “Thank you, Father,” he said. “And you’ll see. I won’t disappoint you.”
Elrad Leth nodded, his impatience showing. “That’s fine. Now run along and let me practice.”
Alazrian thanked his father one more time then hastily returned to the castle. He had done it. Leth had actually believed him.
I should be an actor, he told himself. Now all he had to do was find the lion riders. And if his lucky streak lasted, the lion riders might just find him first.
As Elrad Leth watched his so-called son walk away, the oddest feeling of bitterness engulfed him. He had never really liked Alazrian, barely tolerating him for the sake of his marriage and his precarious position in the king’s good graces. But this latest outrage had sent him over the edge, and he strained to keep himself from firing his bow in the boy’s direction. Alazrian was growing more arrogant by the day. The same changes that were bringing manhood to his body were emboldening him as well, giving him the backbone to challenge authority. Normally, Elrad Leth wouldn’t have minded such traits in a son. Courage was a good thing in a boy and worth encouraging.
But Alazrian had never been his son, and he had known it from the moment his white head had emerged from the womb. Sixteen years ago, Lady Calida had played the whore for a journeying Triin, opening her legs under the hypnotic spell of misplaced love. In those days, Triin travellers to the Empire were common, part of Arkus’ cultural exchange, and though Elrad Leth had never learned the true identity of Calida’s paramour, he was certain from Alazrian’s milk-colored hair that the offending lover had been Triin. He had loved Calida once, but from that day on his love had been smothered. Now, thanks to cancer, he was rid of his slut wife, but the product of her whoring still mocked him. Until today, he had never thought of a convincing alibi for being rid of Alazrian.
“Shinn?” he said, his voice shaking.
“Yes?”
“When we get back to Aramoor, I want you to take a patrol into the mountains to find Jahl Rob.”
“Yes,” said Shinn calmly. “I know that.”
“And Shinn?”
“What?”
Elrad Leth turned to his bodyguard. “Take Alazrian with you. See that some harm comes to him.”
TWELVE
Two days after coming ashore, Kasrin and Biagio were still awaiting Jelena’s answer.
The queen had sequestered herself in the mansion, refusing to speak to her Naren guests. Kasrin supposed she was surrounded by advisors trying to decide what to do about Biagio’s proposition. Time had taken on a sluggish quality, and while Kasrin waited for word from his Lissen captors, he whiled away the hours exploring the mansion. Unlike Biagio, who was confined to a single wing of the villa, Kasrin had been granted full run of the place. He was allowed to roam the grounds as he pleased, to talk to whoever he wished, and to take advantage of the gardens. The only thing Kasrin wasn’t permitted to do was contact his ship, and that restriction irked him. He could see the Dread Sovereign from shore, bobbing at anchor, still surrounded by a flotilla of Lissen schooners. His big dreadnought looked impotent, like a muzzled wolf. For Kasrin, not being able to speak to his crew was the worst part of his captivity. If not for that, he might actually have enjoyed himself.
It was the afternoon of his second day on Crote when Kasrin discovered the little pond hidden on the east side of the villa. Here was the only place Jelena’s engineers hadn’t destroyed with trenches, probably because it was thickly forested and already provided an adequate defense. It was also a good distance from the main house. Bored with the same surroundings, Kasrin had blundered into the wooded area, ignoring the curious stares of the Lissens patrolling the grounds. Apparently, Jelena’s orders allowed him to roam any place he wished to go, so he tested his freedom by disappearing into the thicket of trees. The guards didn’t follow. It was then that he discovered the pond.
He parted the trees with his hands to reveal a perfectly still body of water broken only by the ripples of jumping fish. Kasrin gave a happy laugh when he spotted it. There was a path of cobblestones laid carefully around its perimeter and a varied collection of blue and orange flowers coming into bloom. Near its closest bank, sitting alone and unremembered, was a small stone bench, its white surface partially overgrown with moss. Kasrin stepped closer, curious about the bench and the charming setting. It seemed the kind of place a man might take a secret lover. Birds that had abandoned the rest of the estate sang in the trees and hopped through the tangle of branches, eyeing the intruder. Kasrin was careful not to make a sound as he went to stand beside the little bench. He knelt down before it, studying its simple design. He half expected to see Biagio’s name chiseled into it, some sort of prankish reminder from the emperor’s youth. But the bench was pristine, except for the fingers of moss. Kasrin brushed the seat with his palm, removing the moss the best he could, then sat down and admired the world he’d discovered.
