by Lori Martin
Rendell took her hand and bent down, touching it to his forehead, very correct. As he did he felt something sharp push into his skin. Still holding her fingers, he straightened, glancing down at the ring. His grip tightened swiftly. Dalleena winced. Rendell stared at the carved pink flower, the royal flower, suddenly sick.
He stammered, “You must be – I didn’t know – I –”
Dalleena extricated her hand. His eyes were huge, his face a study in panic, and she started to laugh.
“I beg your pardon, relas,” he said stiffly.
“I think we’ve done enough apologizing.” She smiled.
Rendell managed a returning smile, taking his measure of the celebrated heir. A true-chosen Nialian, they said, as well as a royal. And astonishing hair. It glittered at him in the moonlight.
She asked, “What’s your name?”
“Rendell, relas.”
“Well, Rendell Armasii, I have to be getting back to the palace.”
“I’d be honored to walk with you, relas,” he said, surprising them both. They could not seem to erect the barrier that belonged between them. Dalleena nodded her acceptance.
As they went down the hill to Marlos-An she plied him with gentle questions. She had learned the court habit of gracious chatter almost as soon as she could talk; the taking of interest in a subject’s affairs was a duty. As he had told her, Rendell lived on the Third, on his father’s estate. Like the villagers at the Sunset Rites, he had come to Nialia’s temple to see if it was undisturbed.
“We’ve had some trouble on the Third. I don’t know if the news has reached the palace.”
“I haven’t heard about anything else.” Dalleena sighed, and tried not to remember the goddess’s voice.
Rendell seemed to be the kind of man who had been very shy as a boy, but had mastered it, imposing a social veneer over a private core. But Dalleena had inadvertently touched it when she spoke of the divine call. She touched it again as she said, “They’ll be waiting and looking for me at Marlos-An. I’m not really free, after all, to wander.”
“You have too many duties, relas.”
“You sound as if you know what that’s like.”
He hesitated. “My mother died many years ago, and my father isn’t well.”
“And you have to look after the family. And the estate?”
Rendell nodded. They were reaching the outer courtyard, the guards standing at the gate. Dalleena became aware of the unfitness of being seen with him.
“Thank you for your company, Rendell, and all your help, but I think we should part here.” She did not try to explain or excuse her frantic behavior again.
Once more Rendell bent over her hand. “Good even’, relas.”
“Good even’.” She left him, walking briskly to the gates, and greeted the guards.
Rendell stood where he was and watched her. He looked at the black glittering waves cascading down her neck to her shoulders: soft midnight, with threads of fire. It was true, certainly, that she did not have the precise delicate features usually admired, but her wide eyes more than compensated. He wondered if all Nialian women had such compelling eyes.
CHAPTER 2
When Dalleena came through the gates into the palace courtyard she found her friend Lilli waiting, a worried look on her face.
“If I’m needed, you could have sent Adrell,” Dalleena said before Lilli could begin to scold. “She’s the one who’s supposed to be the servant.”
“We’re all your subjects, relas,” Lilli said primly, and then grinned. “Dalleena, what have you been doing? I feel as if I’ve chased you over half of Lindahne. The queen wants you.”
“Mother’s in council.”
Lilli rolled her eyes. “That was this afternoon. The moon’s up, if you haven’t noticed.”
The younger guard at the gate glanced at the elder, in some surprise at hearing Lilli’s familiar tone. But the older man was smiling, watching them. In the blazing torchlight they resembled a painting, a study in color and contrasts. Lilli was small, with a thick head of auburn hair covering her shoulders and light blue eyes. Her robe was a dusky teal edged with white. The pattern proclaimed her family noble, the color gave its rank. Beside her Dalleena was somewhat taller and sturdier, smiling down into her face, but Lilli caught a look of something, a tightness around the eyes and mouth.
“Where have you been?” she repeated in a tone now of concern. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“But you look – ”
“Shhh, come away.” Dalleena linked arms with her and drew her toward the palace steps, smiling a final good even’ to the watchers at the gate. “I’ve had a seeing, that’s all. I lost track of time.”
“Oh.” Lilli looked at her. That explained the tiredness but nothing else. “Are you all right?”
“I feel a little sick,” Dalleena admitted. “It was – it was a bad one.”
Lilli stopped in midstride. “Oh, Dalleena, what is it? What’s going to happen?”
On most occasions Nialian seeings were merely useful, a way of knowing when to act or hold one’s movement; often they were an expression of the goddess, a gift or demand of worship; but sometimes they were painful: knowledge of evil that could not be changed or averted.
“Is someone going to die?”
Dalleena looked up at the palace of Marlos-An rising before her. “I’d better find the queen,” she said. She dropped her friend’s arm and slid away from her.
At the palace entrance she was greeted again, and as she passed inside the familiar and overpowering scent of the relasii enveloped her. The royal flower blossomed continually even in cold weather, and full vases decorated every niche, soft pink against the marble walls. On her way up the first wide stairs she broke off a small bunch to give to her mother, who liked to wear them on the front of her robe.
By the time she pushed into the room the servants had almost finished clearing the long table. It was thought to be good policy to add a touch of sweet wine to the more sour taste of politics; Dalleena could see from the number of goblets that the meeting had been a long one. On a couch in the corner Queen Ayenna was quietly stretched out.
“You’ve been hiding,” she said, sounding tired but amiable.
“I’m sorry. How was the council meeting?” She held out the flowers.
“Thank you, Dalla. I never seem to tire of these. The council meeting went just as badly as I expected. The closer we get to the solstice festival the happier I am to think of giving all this trouble back to your father. I’m worn out.”
“It’s always this way,” Dalleena answered. The three years of power took their toll. “Father felt the same way, remember? He was exhausted and more than ready to be just an adviser. Now he’s feeling restless, of course, and he’ll be glad to get back in the Chair. You will be, too, in three years.”
“Well, it’s a good system,” the queen said. “Or at least it would be if it weren’t for the councilors.”
“Now, Mother –”
“Yes, I know. I’m being unjust. But sometimes they’re more like frightened children than grown men and women. You should have heard them today.”
“What happened? I suppose it’s the signs?”
“Yes. Still. Armas refused sacrifice this morning.”
Dalleena’s eyes widened. This was by far the most serious omen. She saw a flash of a green jewel at a man’s throat and felt his touch. The Armasii – Rendell, had it been? – must have known, and come to pray.
“What does the high priest think is causing it?”
“Oh, he’s too old and smart a man to give an opinion on that. We only brought him in as a sort of witness. After he left, it seemed every councilor knew exactly what to do to propitiate the god. Their religious fervor,” she said in a careful monotone, “was really heartwarming. None of them agreed with any other, of course.”
Dalleena paused, trying to hold it back, but finally had to ask. “They think it’s the King’s Hold?”
“Yes, some of them. Some of them think that the signs coming at such a time can only be a warning against the king coming back to the Chair.” Suddenly Ayenna released her anger. “The whole idea is absurd. Our oldest law – our only way – do you know what Sillus actually suggested? He hinted that we should stop the change in Holds and keep the king out of power. I think he’s half mad sometimes.”
“Oh, he couldn’t! Even Sillus isn’t capable of –”
“My dear, your uncle is capable of almost anything. If you haven’t realized it before this, learn it now.”
Sillus was the queen’s brother-by-marriage, high-ranking in the council, and a source of trouble to both the royals. From the moment his brother, Raynii, had assumed the Chair and taken a wife, Sillus had opposed almost every policy the royals followed. As the years had gone by and there had been no heir, Sillus’s power had increased, since he was a good deal younger than his brother and looked to inherit the kingship. Dalleena had been born more than eight years after the royal marriage, during the Second King’s Hold. Amid the general rejoicing, Sillus had found his hopes ruined.
Thinking of this, Dalleena said, “I’m twenty-one. He’s had plenty of time to reconcile himself to the way things are.”
“You would think so. But now he’s working on another scheme to make up for it. He’s insisting that Carden should be your official escort at the festival.” Carden was Sillus’s son, two years younger than Dalleena, and he had been showing a great deal of attention to his cousin for months.
“Why?” Dalleena looked obstinate.
“Oh, you know why. After all, my dear, the people will be expecting you to get married within the next few years. Early marriage is a must for you, I’m afraid. A new couple has to be ready if the king or I should die.”
Her daughter shuddered.
“Dalleena, you have to face this. You’re the blood heir, you’ll have the first Hold when you succeed to the Chair, and only death will put you in it. You should always be ready.”
“Carden’s the one who’s not facing things.”
“I think it’s more his father, though Carden does seem to be rather taken with you. Your hair mesmerizes him – he stared at it all through dinner the other evening. Still, I don’t think he’d be so persistent in the face of your rather obvious dislike if it weren’t for Sillus. He feels he’s been cheated out of the Chair: so at least his son will have it, by marrying you.”
“He had better not set his hopes on it,” Dalleena said sourly. “And I won’t have Carden for an escort.”
“We may have to give in on that score. He has some claims to it, as your cousin. Well, all right, all right, we’ve a few days to think about it yet,” she added hastily, forestalling the argument. “But we’re going to have bigger problems at the festival if we can’t stop all the talk about the omens. I don’t like all the chatter I’ve been overhearing, and the servants stand in the halls and whisper to each other. I don’t want your father to have to take the Chair with everyone worried and gossiping.”
“The talk won’t stop unless the omens do.”
“Did you go to the temple this evening?”
“Yes,” Dalleena said unwillingly. “You know I always try to go to Sunset Rites.”
“Pray to Nialia for me, Dalla. I’ve asked for her help, but she listens better to one of her own. Has she sent you or Inama any sign?”
Dalleena’s simmering anxiety boiled up again, bringing with it sadness. Whatever her task was to be, it seemed it would begin with deception. “No,” she said. “Nothing.”
Her mother nodded, wondering as she always had what it was like for her daughter to be a Nialian. She had begun early – the king had been against it – but even at fifteen her seeings were strong. Every Nialian woman had some touch of prophecy and empathy, but Dalleena’s abilities had grown almost to rival Inama’s. The powers were generally passed from one generation to another, putting Nialian women in great demand as wives. Dalleena, however, was one of the rare “true-chosen,” meaning that Nialia had given her the grace directly, for the queen had not been a Nialian nor ever had the power.
Dalleena rose to go. “May Nialia hold you beloved,” she said.
The queen blinked; it was a formal salute. “May her grace light your path,” she replied automatically. She watched Dalleena walk away, following the yellow robe down the room. Ayenna’s hands clutched for a moment at the flowers. Unknowingly, she began to pull off the petals.
CHAPTER 3
–from the Book of the Gods
Nialia awoke one day, and her temple had been left unattended. No flowers were before her; no offering was given to her name. She went to the Hallway of the Gods to seek her husband.
“Proseras,” she called to him, “my people have not come to me. But look, I have been bountiful, and the year brings good fortune.”
“Wife,” answered the holder of Wisdom, “if you would know answers, you must first ask the right questions. Go you and ask, for you are not alone in neglect.”
So Nialia petitioned among the divinities, but none could aid her, until she came to Armas.
“Lord of Power, my people do not attend me, and I grow angry with them. Do you know of it?”
“Nay, Queen Nialia, but mine own do also neglect me. For no flowers are before me; no offering is given to my name.”
They hunted together, and found the people much the same, working and not working, sleeping and not sleeping, talking and not talking, as has always been their wont. Perceiving then no fault among them, the divinities turned to their closest mortals, but could find them not. The high priestess of Fate and the high priest of Strength were gone.
Armas was in his rage, which shakes the hills of the people, but Nialia was cold, and said to him, “A child comes from it, which is not permitted, and Lissor will have knowledge of what has been, what is, and what will be. He will be not man, having this wisdom, nor god, having no immortal power. And his name will be cursed among the people.”
From the folly of the two mortals, a child was indeed born. As icy and irrevocable as the yesterdays, he froze his mother’s blood within her veins and killed her as she gave him life. His father he blinded in the shine of the moment, and murdered with the flame of what was to come, which burned from his eyes. Lissor stood mad, seeing Time before and behind, surrounding, above and below, and his soul caught in the center of the web. He wandered mad, freezing and burning, killing all before him, till all fled from him. And in his madness he wept, and called on Nialia.
“Mother of Fate!” he shouted to the one who watched his footsteps. “Grant me peace! I murder all before me, destroy all that I would touch.” Nialia shook her head, and he fell to his knees, for he saw his days before him.
And Armas saw his grief, and said to Nialia, “Is there nothing to ease his sorrow? For his parents have paid their sin, and yet he still bears the pain. I would not punish unjustly.”
“It is within him. Who is born cannot be unborn,” answered the goddess. “We cannot change his nature.”
Lissor, hearing his doom, grew angry, and vowed that if he could not have peace, none about would. “I know I am to die,” said he, “by the touch of a mortal child, and that it shall destroy him with me. But it will not be! I will murder all, so that none can harm me.” He arose, and went among the people, and they fled from his presence, screaming as they ran, and screaming as they died. The villages were scorched to the ground, and the people froze where they fell. Lissor laughed in his madness, and said to Nialia, “I will destroy all your people, goddess, and then they cannot harm me!”
“What of the mortal child, Lissor?” the goddess answered.
“No mortal frightens me,” he shouted. “I see the ending of this child, as I see all that has come before. But I do not believe it: Do you not see how they flee me? How I murder them in their horror? How can the smallest of them hurt me?”
“By reaching out to you, and bringing you its love,” said Nialia, “
the only shelter mortals have from Time, and you, his madman. And though the child will perish, as they do, this gift and blessing they possess will conquer you.”
Lissor laughed, and did not believe, and still he persecuted the hills, until he thought none were left living. Then he rested in exhaustion beside a ruined house. As he sat, a child approached. It was lost, having lost all its kind, searching for the shelter it had no longer. Lissor saw it, and rose, but the child did not flee, nor scream in pain. It went to him, in trust that he would help its trouble, and reached out a shy hand. At its touch, Lissor saw he was defeated by the child’s heart, and gave a dying cry. His flame destroyed both, and they fell, and were ashes on the earth.
And Nialia, who had hidden the people of the First Hill, sent them home, saying, “Rebuild your homes, and keep your faith that I have given you. Remember this that you have seen: and no Nialian woman shall marry Armasii man, until my word shall change.”
The people sacrificed to her, and to Armas, and rebuilt their homes. But the temples were built with the most care, and the holiest of the people cared for them. The Nialians were kept from the Armasii, and the harvest was bountiful, and so it has been, from that day to this.
CHAPTER 4
“Dalleena, you’re going to be late!” Lilli repeated for the third time.
“Yes, yes, all right,” Dalleena answered again, but she continued to rummage through the chest. Various robes, cloaks, and scarves, most of them the Nialian yellow, were littered on the floor around her. She had dismissed all of the servants but her maid-girl, Adrell, who hovered over her, trying without much success to contain the disorder.
“I don’t understand what you’re looking for,” Lilli said, “but you can’t be late for the festival.”
“Something beautiful. Oh look – I haven’t worn this in years!” Dalleena stood up so quickly that Adrell had to jump back to get out of her way. Dressed only in her long underslip, she held the skirt up in front of her and twirled around the room. “Festival, festival!” she cried, and crashed backward into the wall. The hanging tapestries slapped against the stone as she fell.
