“Excuse me, but I gave Hythria the heir she so desperately needed,” the princess corrected testily.
Elezaar smiled. “Your husband kept his word, your highness. And he kept the peace with Fardohnya which meant he kept the trade routes open.”
“And when Laran made Chaine Tollin—Gienadal’s bastard—Governor of Sunrise Province,” Marla concluded, nodding in understanding, “he also gave rise to the hope that he might one day cede the province to a Raven-spear, even an illegitimate and unacknowledged one.”
“Exactly.”
“So you’re saying I should ask Mahkas to keep Chaine Tollin on as Governor?”
“I think you need to go further than that, your highness. If the Warlords don’t like the current arrangement, they could easily step in and make their own changes. And they may not be changes that suit you. Far from remaining an ally, Sunrise could end up in the hands of a Warlord sympathetic to the Patriot Faction. The revenue from Sunrise will be lost. There will be nothing you or Mahkas, or even Lady Jeryma, can do about it, either. Glenadal Ravenspear made Laran his heir and the High Prince confirmed him as the Warlord of Sunrise. There was no provision in there for his half-brother to take his place, even as regent.”
“But that would mean giving away half Damin’s inheritance.”
“There is no inheritance for your son in death, my lady.”
“What do you mean?”
“Damin is the High Prince’s heir, your highness. You’re going to have enough trouble convincing the Warlords he’s entitled to inherit Krakandar. You don’t seriously think they will allow a High Prince to hold direct lordship over two provinces as well, do you?”
“Rule Number Eleven,” she said suddenly, shaking her long hair free.
Elezaar nodded, pleased with her quick assessment of the situation. “Do the unexpected.”
“Mahkas won’t be happy.”
“Your job is to protect your son, your highness, not nurse your brother-in-law’s tender ego.”
“But what if Chaine Tollin can’t be trusted?” she asked, picking up the silver-backed brush.
“Has he given you any reason to believe that he can’t be?”
“No,” she replied, tipping her head to the side. She began to brush her long fair hair with slow, deliberate strokes. “But that doesn’t mean much. He may be simply biding his time and plans to make his move as soon as he thinks the way is clear for him to grab power.”
“Then perhaps you should give it to him, your highness, before he has a chance to grab it. Then he’ll be forever in your debt. That’s preferable to having an enemy in Sunrise controlling the trade routes from Fardohnya.”
“Which is all very well, Elezaar,” she said, tipping her head the other way so she could brush the left side. “But I’m not really in a position to give anybody anything.”
“No. But your brother is. As you’re so fond of threatening, my lady, have the High Prince make it a decree.”
“I suppose I can make it look like it was Lernen’s idea,” she mused. “That way nobody will think I’m to blame. But won’t the Warlords object if he does that again? They weren’t too happy when he ruled on Laran.”
“Make Glenadal’s son the Warlord of Sunrise Province—a man who’s already proved himself capable—and nobody will object. Leave Mahkas Damaran in charge and just watch the fun begin.”
She stopped brushing her hair and looked at him curiously. “You don’t like Mahkas much, do you?”
“It’s not my place to like or dislike him, your highness,” he replied evasively.
“That’s not what I asked you, Elezaar. Why don’t you like him?”
The dwarf shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Has he mistreated you in any way?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand your dislike of him. Mahkas is about the only person around here, besides you, who I feel I can trust.”
The dwarf shook his head in despair. “Then you have forgotten the Fourth Rule, your highness.”
Marla put down the hairbrush and looked at him thoughtfully. “Trust only myself? Does that include you, Elezaar?”
He smiled crookedly. “Always.”
Marla stared at him doubtfully for a moment, not sure if he was joking, then she sighed wearily. “Don’t tease me, Elezaar. Not tonight.”
“Trust in this, your highness,” he said, jumping down from the stool to stand before her, his hand on his heart. “With my dying breath I will defend you and your son’s right to the Hythrun throne.”
Marla smiled at him fondly. “I may hold you to that some day, Fool,” she warned.
Elezaar returned her smile, a little alarmed to realise that, given the nature of Hythrun politics and having tied his fortunes so closely with Marla Wolfblade and her son, the chances were rather high that Marla was right and he might well be called upon one day to fulfil his rash and foolish promise.
chapter 73
I
’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t I?”
Brak stared at Shananara, shaking his head in wonder. She was sitting on the window seat in her room overlooking Sanctuary’s picturesque valley (hiding, no doubt) while poor Wrayan bore the brunt of the recriminations for a deed that was—in truth—Shananara’s fault.
“Why did you sleep with him, Shanan?”
“I didn’t,” she protested, and then she smiled coyly. “Well, there wasn’t a lot of sleep involved, anyway.”
“You know he’s human.”
“He’s very pretty.”
“So is every Harshini male in Sanctuary. That’s no excuse.”
“I like him.”
“Neither is that.”
“He’s part Harshini.”
“Which part?” Brak asked scathingly. “His big toe?”
“Are you angry?” she asked curiously. “I can never really tell. What does it feel like?”
Brak ignored her blatant and rather pathetic attempt to change the subject. “What’s Lorandranek going to say when he finds out?”
She smiled at him sweetly. “He’s not going to find out.”
“You think I won’t tell him?”
“You didn’t tell him the last time I slept with a human—that’s a very misleading expression, by the way. Why would you betray me this time?”
“Because your fascination for humans is getting dangerous.”
She smiled. “Don’t exaggerate. I’ve made love with two human men in the past two hundred years. Well, three, if you count you. But then you’re only half human, so I suppose you don’t really count. My point is, Brak, one human a century hardly qualifies as dangerous. Besides, I like human boys. They’re so . . . innocent.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Shanan, the last time you indulged your taste for pretty human boys, we wound up with the bloody Sisterhood.”
“That’s not entirely true . . .”
“Isn’t it?” he asked pointedly.
“You think I’m the only Harshini who likes humans?” she asked, climbing off the window seat and crossing the room to confront him. “Where was Lorandranek the last time Korandellen sent you to find him, Brak? Where is he now? Communing with the God of Green Life? Discussing the weather with the God of Storms? Or lurking around near that human village—what do they call the closest one to us? Haven, isn’t it?—watching a small town full of humans go about their ordinary daily lives, because he’s just as taken with them as I am. It’s all part of the burden we té Ortyn carry. The gods’ idea of a joke, I think. They made it dangerous beyond words for us to love a human, and then made us totally captivated by them, just to torment us.”
“Your brother doesn’t seem to have much trouble fighting off the urge,” Brak reminded her, wondering if there wasn’t some truth in her claim that her fascination for humans was a curse laid on her by the gods and not simply her wilful nature.
“Korandellen hasn’t stepped foot outside Sanctuary in almost two hundred years,” Shananara replied
with a smile. “That’s how he deals with it. He simply refuses to put himself in temptation’s way.”
“Don’t you know what the gods will do if you’re having a child?” he demanded of her, wishing there was some way to drive home the seriousness of her folly. “They will kill it, Shanan. The gods won’t allow a demon child to exist.”
“Please don’t speak of killing, Brak.”
“All right, how about insanity?” he asked. “Has it ever occurred to you that one of the reasons you’re not supposed to fraternise with humans is because the mere act of bearing a demon child would drive you mad?”
“New life could never drive me mad.”
“If you’re carrying Wrayan’s child, Shanan, then you’re going to unleash a force on his earth that’s capable of anything. A demon child could kill a god, if the mood took him. You can’t even step on a bug. The conflict would drive you crazy.”
“Even if I conceded that you might be right, it’s unlikely I’m with child, Brak,” she shrugged. “It’s not possible to conceive when Sanctuary is hidden out of time.”
“But we’re not hidden,” he reminded her. “Sanctuary is here for anybody to find. And you’re just as capable of creating a child as any other woman.”
Shananara sighed wistfully. “If only that were true. This constant jumping in and out of time has played havoc with our people. Did you know there were only twelve Harshini born this year when we came back into real time? And the demons are starting to be affected, too. Korandellen speculates we have less to fear from the Sisterhood in Medalon and the Overlord’s priests in Karien, than we do from our own cowardice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hiding from the danger may prove to be the biggest danger of all,” Shanan sighed, and then she stepped up close to him and touched his face. “Don’t be angry at me, dearest.”
She smiled languidly then stood on her toes and kissed him and, for a glorious, dangerous moment, he let her. Being kissed by Shananara té Ortyn was a gift rarely bestowed and he was still human enough to crave her affection, even though the Harshini part of him knew she was really just doing this to prevent him reporting her indiscretion to her uncle or her brother.
Brak revelled in it for a few perilous seconds before he pushed her away. “Don’t think you can get out of it that easily, Shananara. What you did was stupid. And unbelievably risky.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, realising she hadn’t won him over with her charms. She looked a little puzzled by that. Shananara didn’t understand anger, so she couldn’t work out why her attempts to quell Brak’s fury were having so little effect.
“I won’t tell Lorandranek, this time. Although the gods know, I probably should. But I’m taking Wrayan home, Shanan,” Brak told her. “Back to the human world where he belongs.”
“But it’s not safe for him out there!”
“If I leave him with you much longer, he’ll be in just as much danger here. I think he’d rather risk an unknown human assailant than having all the Primal Gods pissed at him.”
“Are you sure you can’t leave him here, Brak?” she begged. “If I promise to be good? Once we’re back out of time, it won’t matter, anyway. I can’t conceive any child, let alone a demon child, when we’re out of real time.”
“He’s not a thing, Shananara,” Brak retorted crossly. “And I’m not going to leave the lad here so you’ve got something to play with to relieve the tedium.”
“That’s unfair, Brak.”
“So is you making any human believe they have a future with you,” he replied harshly. “If I leave him another year, he’ll be so in love with you he won’t be able to think straight. And then he’ll grow old and die and you won’t have aged a day. How long will you want him anyway, once he’s no longer so pretty? Humans only get a short life, Shanan. They haven’t got the same room for mistakes that you and I have.”
Shananara had the decency to look a little shamefaced, but that didn’t mean Brak was getting through to her. The Harshini really didn’t understand humans. That the gods had created them to look like the most perfect human specimens ever imagined was simply a cruel jest. And Brak knew the Harshini. He could think like one when he had to. Although the world was a much different place now, he had grown up among these people. His childhood companions in the Citadel were Shananara and Korandellen. He had played with gods and Harshini princes as a child.
But it still didn’t make it any easier to explain to a Harshini anything about humans when they simply didn’t have the words in their vocabulary to explain concepts they were, literally, incapable of grasping.
“You make me sound quite cruel, Brak,” Shananara accused, looking wounded by the thought. “I’m not supposed to be capable of hurting anything.”
“And you’re not,” he assured her. “Not deliberately, anyway. You just have to trust me on this, Shanan. If I leave Wrayan here, you’ll inflict more hurt on him than you’re able to imagine.”
She nodded, probably accepting his request that she trust him rather than showing any true understanding of what he meant. “I’m sorry if I have caused you pain, Brak. Or young Wrayan.”
Brak smiled, thinking Shananara knew the word but didn’t understand remorse any more than she understood anger. “I’d better go and break it to our house guest that he’s being evicted.”
“You’ll do it gently, won’t you?”
“Yes, Shanan,” he sighed. “I’ll do it gently.”
“And you must promise to guard him. In the human world.”
“He doesn’t need guarding.”
“Yes, he does!” the princess insisted. “He came here because someone hurt him very badly, Brak, and he doesn’t know who that person is. If it’s my fault that Wrayan must leave the protection of Sanctuary, then I’m going to ensure he’s safe in his own world. I am commanding you to go with him. And you’re to stay with him until he was recovered his memories, or the threat to him is gone.”
Brak looked at her in horror, unable to believe what she was demanding of him. “But Shanan . . . that could take years!”
“Years you have, Brak,” she pointed out, suddenly all regal. “As you just reminded me, humans only get a short life. I cannot knowingly make Wrayan’s life any shorter by denying him protection when I have you here to do my bidding.”
“You’re assuming I’m going to do your bidding, Shanan.”
She smiled at him again, her black eyes shining, and slid her arms around his neck. “I could make you,” she whispered against his lips.
He smiled at the unashamed offer and, ignoring the very real temptation to give in to her, deliberately lifted her arms from his neck and held them by her sides. “I think not.”
“You think I couldn’t make you, Brak?”
“I think you’ve had all the human flesh you’re going to taste for a while, your highness.”
She smiled even wider, seemingly unconcerned that he had refused her. Perhaps because she knew she could count on having him again eventually. “Eventually” was almost a certainty in a lifetime that spanned several thousand years.
“I command you, then.”
“What do I tell the king?”
She shrugged, unconcerned. “Ask Jakerlon. The God of Liars is always good for things like that.”
“You’re effectively exiling me for something you did,” he accused.
“Then think of it as doing me a favour.”
“That would imply you’re giving me a choice.”
“Then do it because you love me.”
Brak shook his head in defeat, realizing that she still had no idea. She had Kalianah’s unyielding faith in love without any concept of the other emotions that went along with it.
“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “But only because I love you.”
After he left Shananara’s room, Brak headed to the Gateway, thinking he needed some time outside of Sanctuary’s suddenly claustrophobic walls before he visited Lorandranek and info
rmed him he was leaving with Wrayan. He knew this mess wasn’t the young human’s fault. Brak could barely fight off Shananara when she was trying to seduce him. Poor Wrayan would have had no hope. He’d probably been too hard on the lad this morning, but Brak couldn’t get angry with the Harshini. They barely knew what anger was, anyway.
“Ah, Lord Brakandaran!” Jerendenan exclaimed when he saw Brak heading for the Gateway. The Gatekeeper was probably the oldest soul in Sanctuary and could name every single being who had passed through his gate in the past few thousand years. “I was just about to send for you.”
“You were?” he asked curiously. “Why?”
“We may have a problem.”
“What sort of problem?”
Jerendenan beckoned Brak closer. Near the huge arch of the open gate stood a shallow bowl of water balanced on a white marble pedestal. The bowl was used by travellers to refresh themselves when they stepped across Sanctuary’s threshold. But it also doubled as a scrying bowl, and when the old Harshini began to draw on his power and waved his arm over the water, Brak realised that was what he was doing now.
Brak looked into the water which resolved itself into a picture of the mountains outside the fortress. Spring was firmly in command now and the forest was burgeoning with new life. After a moment he spied several dark-clothed and well-armed men sneaking—that was the only word for it—through the trees in Jerendenan’s scrying bowl. There seemed to be about six of them, followed, Brak saw with alarm, by a tall man wearing a long black cassock who carried a staff topped with a golden star intersected by a silver lightning bolt.
“That’s a Karien priest!”
Jerendenan nodded solemnly. “That’s why I was going to call you. Those men you see in the scrying bowl are only a few hours away.”
“What?”
“This is the problem I spoke of, Brakandaran,” the Gatekeeper told him heavily. “The Karien priests have found us and I believe that, within a day, Sanctuary may be under attack.”
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