Shazzur smiled and his eyelids flickered open and he swallowed, as compliant as a sleepy kitten.
"Elzan?” he breathed.
"He lives. He's burned, he took a knife in his leg, and he drained himself healing you, but he will be fine. The pain will hold him to his bed only for a little while.” Her voice cracked with words she promised herself she would not speak.
"But as for me?” He closed his eyes. “You want to scold, my dear. You fear giving me more pain, but let me assure you—” Shazzur paused for breath. “I feel only great weakness, as if I am nothing but parchment held to my bed with heavy stones."
"You lost too much blood."
"Ah, not too much blood, my dear, or I would not be here arguing with you."
"We are not arguing!” Her voice cracked. “Father, I'm—"
"Ah, no, do not apologize. If you were not angry with me, then I would worry."
That took her breath away a moment, then Challen saw the humor in that wry bit of truth. It twisted at her lungs, yanking a weak chuckle from her. They were both quiet for a few moments more as she put the cup to his lips and he drank.
"You should be with Elzan,” Shazzur said with a soft smile.
"I am, when you sleep."
"And when do you sleep? You are not a full priestess yet, though there is great healing in your presence. Like your mother,” he added in a whisper.
"O'klan watches over you when I rest. And when I see to Elzan,” she admitted with a smile in her voice.
"Good. Treasure him. Do not harm him by risking yourself. Your mother tore my heart to shreds when she risked herself as a spy. Even before she knew I loved her."
"Father, don't weary yourself,” she protested, hearing the tears in his voice. She knew Naya's memory was a sweet agony, but her father had never showed his loneliness so clearly.
"Yes, I am weary. I want to join her. To rest."
"You are not allowed to leave us. Bainevah needs you.” She put down the cup and pressed his cool hand to her cheek.
"No,” he whispered, smiling more. “You and Elzan shall guide Bainevah from her darkness. I am no longer needed."
"Don't speak that way."
His hand felt too cool. She rubbed it between her hands and got up to call one of the novices to bring heated bricks. With so much blood lost, Shazzur could not afford to become chilled.
"Your mother woke me,” he whispered when she returned to his side. “Can you guess what she told me?"
"She likely came to warn you, but you didn't listen."
"Perhaps. My usefulness to Bainevah wanes.” He raised a hand to her lips when she would have protested. “Naya told me you conceived at equinox. A son."
"A son.” She heard the words, but the meaning would not penetrate to her mind.
"Your mother beckoned. And I saw you, with a child in your arms, begging me to stay.” Shazzur sighed, his eyes bright. “I could not decide which fate I wanted."
"Father?” She clutched at his cool hand.
"I am tired. My gifts will go to another, and I will rest.” A broken chuckle escaped him. “As you must rest. You will give birth at solstice. Mother Matrika will doubly bless us that day."
"You will be there to see it, Father. You must be there, to hold your grandson and bless him. The future king."
"Perhaps.” He closed his eyes. “Let me rest, Challen. I want to dream of your mother."
"Only to dream. Do not go to her. Please?” she whispered, her voice threatening to break.
"As Mother Matrika wills."
"Father—"
"I love you, Challen. If I have been harsh, it was to make you strong. Your mother knew. She saw what would be required of you, and she was proud.” He gently pushed her away with his cool hands. “You always make me proud. Now, go and rest. You carry the future in your womb, Challen.” He chuckled. “My grandchild."
"Father—"
"Go. Tell Elzan. Then rest. Tomorrow we will talk more.” Shazzur tried to look stern, but Challen saw his weariness and chose to give up. She kissed him, gave him the last of the sweet water, tucked the blankets around him, and stood to leave.
"Are you ready, my love?” Naya said from the far corner of the room, opposite the door.
Challen turned. Her mother stood at the edge of a rolling, emerald meadow, so vast the trees that encircled it were distant blurs. Naya glowed, light spilling from her hair, her eyes, her fingertips, from under her multicolored robes that swayed as if tugged by a breeze Challen couldn't feel.
"Mother?” She could hardly force the words out.
"Naya.” Shazzur's voice boomed like a joyful shout. He stepped past Challen, holding out his arms.
His hair was dark red, not a glint of silver, and his chest and shoulders were wide with muscle. He wore the vest and trousers of a horse soldier and a bronze sword hung at his hip. Naya ran to him and he caught her up in a tight embrace and they kissed.
Challen heard a long, slow sigh of escaping breath behind her. She knew, without looking, that Shazzur's weary, wounded, abandoned body still lay on the bed. What she saw was the essence of her father, free and reunited with her mother.
"You no longer need us, little bird,” Naya said when the kiss ended. “We will always be here, but you are able to stand now and take your destined place in the battle."
"Who is our enemy?” Challen blurted.
"You already know,” Shazzur said. “You have done well, sending Rushtan to find your brother. We were both wrong, my dear.” He laughed, a booming, joyous sound Challen hadn't heard since her mother's death. “Asha is the Flame, not your son."
"Your grandfather wanted me to be High Priestess after him,” Naya said. “He wanted me to be Queen. His dream was true, but he interpreted in error. Tell your grandfather, the days are coming and are almost here, when Bainevah will be pure again, though the pain will be as great as the pain Elzan suffered at the Sacred Marriage. Tell him."
"Yes, Mother.” Challen repeated the words back until both her parents were satisfied.
"Don't grieve,” Shazzur said. “Be happy for us. Be happy in your love, even though you must hide it for many long days."
"Father?"
"Challen?” Mayar knocked on the door of the room.
The room spun around Challen and she cried out, flailing through sudden darkness. She found herself crouched on the floor, still clutching the cup. Queen Mayar came in and halted in the doorway. She called for lamps.
"Are you all right?” She knelt next to Challen in the spilled light coming through the doorway.
"He's gone.” Challen wondered how her eyes could stay dry, how she could speak the words so easily. “Mother came for him. He's gone."
* * * *
Challen went to sit with Elzan while the healers bustled through Shazzur's room and tended to the body. She sat with him two hours, but he slept the entire time. Challen held his hand and whispered the news of their son. Elzan never stirred, and she blamed the sleeping potions. She kissed the bandages across his eyes. He had made himself vulnerable to heal her father. The man who had attacked Elzan had died, taking the brunt of the burning ceiling beam as it fell. He was too badly burned to identify. Challen had hoped that when Shazzur was stronger, he could have spoken with the mind scribes to make a sketch of his attackers. Now, that would not happen. Her mind felt cocooned, separated from the world and ordinary thoughts. She couldn't feel anything but a great weariness. She knew she needed to rest. The enemy had struck deeply, and would strike again while they still reeled from the blow. Who would die next? She had to be awake, alert, strong and ready.
When O'klan came to take his turn watching Elzan, Challen went to Mayar's workroom to rest. She washed, changed her robes, and lay down on the couch. Then the tears came, and she wept until nausea tried to turn her body inside out.
When she finally slept, she dreamed the Bull-man tried to push through the barrier of shadows that surrounded her dreams. He roared and tried to batter her with clawed hooves, but the shadows he
ld strong and protected her.
* * * *
Fourth Ascent Moon
Cloth rustled somewhere in the room. Elzan lay still, trying to determine who was there, and how many. It struck him as funny-sad that he couldn't seem to smell anything. Maybe the stink of the healing ointment had destroyed his sense of smell.
"Mother?"
"No, Highness,” O'klan whispered. “The Lady Priestess sleeps. My Lady is with her. She insisted I come to you.” The eunuch's voice grew slightly louder. A cup touched Elzan's lips. He smothered a whimper of relief as sweet wet filled his mouth.
"Shazzur?” he asked after swallowing slowly.
Silence. O'klan smeared honey ointment on Elzan's lips.
"I do not know where or how the Lord Seer is, Highness,” the eunuch admitted with a long sigh. “My Lady asked me to think only of you, and that is what I do."
Queen Mayar was there the next time Elzan woke. She shushed him when he asked about the seer.
"Are your eyes closed, my hawk?"
"How should I know?” Elzan let out a bark of laughter. His throat crackled like ancient parchment, but didn't bleed.
"Close your eyes. I will remove these bandages and we shall see if you may go without them.” Her robes gave off a scent like fresh green shoots when she leaned over him. Elzan gratefully inhaled the scent, glad to be able to smell again.
It felt odd as the slight weight of the gauze bandages come off his face. The last few layers were soaked through with ointment and tried to stick together. He braced himself, expecting to feel layers of burned skin come away with the bandages. There was only a sense of stickiness peeling away—like that last time he had let go of Challen, glued to her with their nightmare sweat.
"Very good,” she whispered. Her fingertips lightly brushed his eyelids. “Heat, not burning, made your face swell.” She chuckled. “You have lost much of your hair and your eyebrows and your beard is stubble, but you have not lost your looks."
"Challen will be pleased.” He smiled, and it felt strange not to have bandages and ointment encasing his face.
"Indeed. At least something will please her."
"How is she?” He tried to sit up and her hands pressed gently on his sore shoulders, keeping him flat in the bed.
"She cries for you. She tries very hard to be brave and let no one see how her heart aches. I am most angry that the King has forbidden her to see you."
"What?” Elzan's eyelids flickered.
"Closed.” She pressed her hand over his face from stubbly eyebrows to the bridge of his nose. “What do you remember?"
"I found Shazzur. While I was healing him, someone attacked me. The roof fell in on us."
"Shazzur's household was invaded in the night, his servants drugged and then killed. He told us he woke early.” Her voice caught for a moment. “He dreamed Naya came to him. He surprised his attackers. How did you know to come to him?"
"I had a dream.” Elzan paused, savoring the oddness of it for the first time. “I dreamed Shazzur needed me. When I woke, Challen called for him from her dreams. I roused the guards.” His throat began to flame, making him choke. He gulped the sweet drink laced with wine his mother held to his lips. “Mother, why can't Challen come to me?"
"I, O'klan and Asqual are the only ones permitted near you while you heal. Only my most loyal priests may handle your medicine and food. If Challen may come, then so may your brothers and friends and co-commanders. Someone tried to kill you, and his friends will try again. It is easier to protect you if no one is permitted near you."
"It makes sense,” he admitted slowly. “At least the King doesn't suspect my wife of trying to kill me."
"It would be easier to protect the two of you if you were together, but other concerns have intervened."
"How is she handling all this?"
"In times of trouble, the Mother guides us if we let her. I feel the hand of the Mother strongly on her now. I think she is as important to Bainevah as her father was."
"Was?"
"Open your eyes. Slowly."
"Mother?"
"Let us see if you can see, then we will talk of other things.” She brushed drops of water around the edges of his eyes, tickling the scorched stubble of his lashes.
His eyes felt crusty, like sand mixed with glue. Queen Mayar sighed laughter when he winced and muffled a curse.
"Healing is rarely comfortable."
"Thank you for the warning, however late.” Elzan smiled despite the blurring that filled his eyes when he opened them. At least he could see something. “There's a fog—"
"Ointment in your eyes. It will wash away."
"Shazzur is dead, isn't he?"
"Yes, and Bainevah is poorer now. The King rages. He fears without Shazzur, we will never understand the Prophecy and restore the Three."
"That's not true.” Elzan pushed himself up with his elbows. Dizziness forced him back into his pillows with a groan.
"Slowly.” His mother moved into his line of sight. Her hair was pulled back simply. No makeup accented the slim lines of her face. Dark smears made her eyes darker. “I reminded your father you have studied the Prophecy. Shazzur himself told the King you would lead Bainevah to greatness because of your studies."
"Not me, Mother. Challen knows more about the Prophecy than anyone. She was her father's only student all her life. If anyone can guide us in Shazzur's place, she can."
"Yes. How foolish of us not to consider that.” She smiled, her pale face brightening. “Perhaps there is hope."
"Doesn't matter.” His chest tickled with a rueful chuckle. “Shazzur always told me the words of the Mother never fail, even when we mortals do. Challen and—” He shook his head, and regretted it a moment later. “Challen is vital to the Prophecy, Mother. Guard her. More than me. More than the King."
"I do not fully understand,” Mayar murmured. “But I shall take your words to the King."
"How long have I been here?"
"Three days."
"I couldn't even stand with her at Shazzur's funeral pyre."
"No, my hawk. The ceremony is tomorrow, but you will not be able to stand for several days more."
"What? Mother—"
"Close your eyes and lie down, Elzan. You must rest. I tell you this so you understand your danger and why the King gave such orders. Shazzur died yesterday, and already rumors say the King ordered him killed for standing in the way of peace with Dreva. Rumors say the Prophecy speaks of Shazzur, when it says the Ram will spill the blood of the Wise."
"Challen was the pure blood of the Wise."
"Facts do not matter when rumors are so much more exciting. The people believe he was poisoned. Some say Challen poisoned him, for forcing her to become your concubine."
"That's a lie!” He choked on the flames in his throat.
"Hush.” She pressed a fingertip to his lips. “No one who knows her would ever believe Challen would poison her father. Yet rumors often speak the truth of what may happen. Even the Healers Temple is not inviolate. Someone could sneak in and attack you while you are unable to defend yourself. How hard would it be for someone to spill dust or perfume on Challen, so she carries a slow-acting poison to you? The enemies of Bainevah are cruel and clever, Elzan. We must guard you with triple care. You are not to leave here until you can defend yourself, and no one but Asqual, O'klan, and I may see you. Do you understand?"
Elzan understood all too well. He kept his eyes closed and tried to obey his mother's command to sleep, but sleep was many hours in coming. Tears of anger rather than pain escaped him as he thought of Challen standing before the Court tomorrow at her father's funeral pyre. Alone, because he, who said he loved her and would protect her, would not be at her side.
Even if he could forgive his enemies everything else, he would never forgive that.
CHAPTER 20
Challen clutched at O'klan's supporting arm on her left, and Chizhedek's arm on her right. She refused to submit to the spinning in her head. She ha
d to stand tall and straight under the smothering protection of her gray mourning veil. This was her father's funeral ceremony and she would give gossiping tongues nothing to wag about. She would make him proud.
Be grateful Elzan is not there on the pyre, she scolded herself when hot anger twisted through her chest.
No, but her lover was as far from her as death. Her mind understood the King's reasoning in limiting the number of people who could approach the Crown Prince. Her heart raged that she was blocked from him. Her only comfort was that Elzan understood and hated the restrictions as well.
Every night since the fire, Challen dreamed of him horribly burned, oozing blood and ichor from his wounds. She knew he would only have scars on one arm; his attacker's body had protected him from the worst of the fire. Only seeing Elzan and touching him would stop the nightmares.
That, however, was forbidden.
Queen Mayar stayed with Elzan while O'klan and Commander Asqual stood guard over Challen at Shazzur's funeral. Challen missed the woman, who treated her as a daughter and guided her steps on the concubine's slippery path between high honor and no power. She knew Elzan needed his mother more.
Challen was grateful for the thick gray veils. She could cry or glare or make faces at the people who walked slowly past the pyre to speak words of praise to the dead, and no one would notice. She held on tightly to O'klan's and her grandfather's arms and endured.
King Nebazz appeared last. He took hold of Challen's hands and led her to the pyre. He beckoned for the torch, but instead of taking it from the servant boy's hands to give to Challen to light the pyre, he drew a knife from his belt.
"Ah, my brother, my wise truth-speaker!” The King tilted his head back, staring into the rising sun. “I pledge here, your daughter shall be as my own. By her presence, your wisdom shall remain with us. Her voice shall be yours. Your memory shall always be honored!” he boomed across the echoing courtyard filled with courtiers.
A moment of silence. The torch crackled. The wind sighed. King Nebazz grasped the end of his beard, unadorned in mourning, and sliced off a finger's length of it. While the crowd hissed astonishment, he placed the handful of beard on the pyre, then slashed his palm and let blood drip onto it.
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