“It wasn’t Ariel’s fault.”
Now this deserved Lorain’s concentration. Where did the girl intend to take this?
“It wasn’t his fault that he was selfish and mean. At least that’s what those who knew him have told me. And I believe it. But our mother, Empir Flandari, listened to a sooth, a sooth from Solsta who left our mother believing that my brother would mature into a tyrant and that I must be protected from him.”
The Empir’s voice grew louder and stronger, and Lorain sat up, even more attentive now. Were these the girl’s own words? Or had someone—say, Nalin?—helped her formulate a eulogy designed to elicit the maximum compassion on her own behalf?
“The hermits of Solsta Haven raised me, and I had no idea who I was. And while the love of those hermits showered down upon the orphaned stranger they’d taken in, my poor brother found no love in the arms of his own mother. The prophecy the sooth envisioned became its own fulfillment.
“Do you know how it affects a child to grow up unloved and looked upon as a horror by his mother?” Her voice continued to crescendo until it seemed to Lorain that the heavens themselves would open up and cry for her lover. “You do. You watched it happen. You watched as everyone turned from my brother in fear. And all because one sooth said the brother could not be trusted.
“You see, she couldn’t leave it to chance, couldn’t allow fate to decide which one of us would inherit the throne. The sister had to become Garla’s ruler. This sooth manipulated the game well aware that poor Ariel might have proven to be a suitable leader if the Empir had been left alone with her twins.
“So here I stand, nobles, councilors, citizens of Garla and, Holder Zanlot, especially.” The Empir turned and nodded to Lorain, and Lorain couldn’t help but react by scooting forward in her chair. “I stand alone, no brother and no mother left to me, because one hermit thought she could rule the world long enough to win a wretched little game of the siblings. Don’t ask me why she did it. Is there a task awaiting me for which my prophecy-altered life has prepared me? I don’t know. What I do know is this. My brother’s life was wasted for the sake of some fragile fate that may never come into existence.
“I wish he were here with me. I wish he had special moments with our mother to share with me. I wish he’d inherited happiness and love instead of a throne which a hermit sooth declared he’d never hold longer than a couple of breaths.”
Lorain heard the Empir’s voice break. She killed him. How dare she speak now of missing him?
“But he’s gone, and I’ll never know him. He was my brother, and I will never know him. But here’s what I do know. It wasn’t his fault. Let the words ring out. It was never ever Ariel Ilazer’s fault.” And in an arena stunned to silence, the Empir turned and sat down.
Lorain wanted to spit. The quiet that overwhelmed the crowd sounded like an expression of awe, not awkwardness at the girl’s words. What did this irritating girl have that Ariel lacked? She’d murdered an Empir, just like Ariel had, and no one questioned it. She’d stepped into the role of Empir, just like Ariel had, and not a soul on the Council, save Tazori Dors, had stood with Lorain when she’d challenged the girl’s claim. Could it have been nothing more than relief that none of them would have to deal directly with the “tyrant” ever again?
Lorain looked up to find this same girl standing before her, hand extended in peace. The ceremony had moved on without her as she’d dallied about in her musings, and they must have reached the point where they must light the pyre. A personal note from the Empir had arrived this morning as Lorain had begun her preparations. “As it is more your place than mine,” the note had read, “I would be honored if you would join me for the lighting of the pyre.” If she thinks such a gesture will win my support…. But with a nod, Lorain rose, and the two of them stepped down from the dais and over to the neatly constructed pile of wood and kindling topped by her love’s white-draped body. A guard there handed the Empir a torch, but the girl took a step back and allowed Lorain to accept it alone.
She took a deep breath as the torch flame danced in the light breeze. Her throat tightened, but she gritted her teeth and maintained her composure. The babe shifted at her teat, and that nearly destroyed her. But she prevailed and placed the torch into the kindling space at the base of the fire. She held it there for a moment, watching the blaze grow from barely a spark into an inferno consuming everything in the pyre. She felt hands take her arms from behind and pull her back.
“We don’t want to lose you as well, my lord,” she heard the Empir whisper in her ear. “You carry all that’s left of my brother.”
Lorain didn’t dare respond. She felt her shoulders sag under the weight of potential overreaction, and anything she’d say or do would only succeed in making her look foolish. She did, however, allow the Empir to guide her back to the dais where they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. After a moment of silence in respect for the royal deceased, the girl led her towards the entrance they’d come in through and out of the arena, followed shortly after by the other dignitaries.
She left the assembly area immediately without another word. They would head back to the Keep for the reception, a reception whose invitation she had declined. She stepped into her carriage and took the short ride back to the old palace. Within moments, she’d entered her chambers, dismissed her servant and locked the door behind the woman. Then she sat down at her desk, denying herself tears, even here where no one could see her. She rubbed her pouch gently and contemplated the childless Empir who had acknowledged the importance of this child to Garla.
Lorain smiled and resolved to do all she could to keep the Empir from a mate. Keeping this Ariannas without her own child would increase the value of Ariel’s child infinitely.
She could plan no more at the moment. Her mind shook like a frightened animal hiding in the corner from a predator. Soon, however, she would regain her ability to think a thing through, and then….
Whatever it takes, Lorain decided. Whatever it takes.
CHAPTER SIX
Korin of thristas
Pulling his horse to a halt in the waning daylight, Korin sighed with exhaustion. He’d ridden much harder before, not stopping for two or three nights in a row, surrendering to sleep only when his horse couldn’t go any farther, but this was different. After riding a full twenty-four hours straight to get as far away as he could from Avaret, he’d stopped the next four nights because he couldn’t find the energy to go on without rest. He knew no one rode in pursuit of him, and now he arrived at a place he hadn’t expected to see again this soon after leaving it.
The Khared.
Now, it was only one stopping place out of many on his return to Thristas, but not so long ago, he’d accepted the unanticipated here. Still atop his horse, he placed his hand on his pouch which as yet gave no hint of the gift he bore. But he knew. Mantar, how he knew. This babe wanted to suckle the life from him.
All right. Enough.
He threw his right leg over the horse’s neck and slid down to the ground. He tethered the horse to a tree, unsaddled it, grabbed his pack and stepped to the cave. He gathered sticks and branches, enough for a fire that would last until sleep claimed him, but before building that fire, he wandered into the cave a few feet. He stepped to the place where supplies were left for Thristan travelers who’d failed to bring enough of their own. This was another reason he was tired. He’d eaten little since leaving Avaret, and he hoped he’d find something his stomach could tolerate.
There wasn’t much. An apple, a couple of pieces of dried meat and a half loaf of bread that had gone moldy. He hadn’t raided this larder when he and the Empir had passed through because he’d had the luxury of time to hunt and had assigned her the task of gathering nuts and berries. This time, though, he needed food, sleep and then an early leave-taking in the morning. He tossed the bread into the forest for some animal to better appreciate, sat down, built his fire, and once it was set, he chewed on the meat and took juicy bites of the app
le.
As he ate, one of the reasons his body fought sleep came to him. He hadn’t used malla since he’d been in here fifteen nights ago. Yes, he’d counted every night since; apparently it was one of those things one did once pouched with an infant. He still carried the malla with him. How else could they have countered the effects of Ariel’s anaca in Lisen’s system? Despite the act she’d committed that had hurtled him onto the road back to Thristas, he knew she’d make a good Empir, a tough but mostly fair Empir and, perhaps, even the first Empir to befriend the desert.
Stop. It was over, done. He could never approach her again. He’d sworn to keep this child safe from its mother’s magical ways and their consequences, and this meant hiding out in the desert, keeping the child with him until…. He didn’t know if there even was an until.
Yet, in spite of it all, a thought gnawed at his mind. This child wasn’t his child; it was his child and her child. Did he really have the right to deny the woman who’d conceived this child access to her own flesh? As a guard, his life had centered around protecting the Empir from her enemies. He’d failed with Flandari, and he’d abandoned Ariannas. What right did he have to judge her for doing what she believed? What in the name of Mantar did she believe? That Ariel had intended to kill her before the Council could consider her claim was a given. But what if instead of killing him—or pushing him to kill himself—she’d locked him up until the Council could deliberate? What if the Council had decided in her favor? What if…? He could play with the variables forever, and they’d still tear him apart.
He pulled a piece of gristle from between his teeth and tossed it into the brush.
He had to stop doing this. He had to stop obsessing over something he couldn’t change. If he hadn’t guided her up that last flight of stairs, if he’d refused to participate in her plan—a plan he’d understood well enough to know she was going to use magic to kill her brother—she would have managed without him.
And what about this idea that had grabbed hold of him, the idea that he carried Mantar’s Child? He’d always scoffed at the notion that some baby conceived in the Farii, with parents from both nations—always presumed to be Thristas and Garla—could actually benefit The People, but he understood it better now. The hope of it filled up his heart. He’d never put much store in hope either, and yet there it was. It was the “enrichment of the tribe,” as he’d translated it for Lisen. He’d claimed the translation wasn’t precise, but actually he’d kept the full truth from her. Mantar was sought not just to enrich the tribe but to fulfill the prophecy and save Thristas. They did seek fertility, but more than that, they sought a child who would free them from Garla. He hadn’t dared tell her that.
But this couldn’t be Mantar’s Child. He was half-Garlan himself. And with that, his fling with illogical thinking ended. He chewed and swallowed the last of his apple, drank water he’d fetched from the river here and then unfolded his blanket to cover himself. He’d sleep well tonight, in this place where he’d pouched his child—his and Lisen’s child. Ariannas’ child, he reminded himself. Oh, the lies he would have to concoct for the mesa.
Ariannas, dressed in a mourning grey tunic with gold threads to lighten its somber dignity, looked out on the attendees at this dinner which marked the end of her first Council session, and she thought back to the gathering that had signaled the beginning of the Farii in Thristas. She’d reveled in the dancing and the drums and the swirling bright colors that had marked the festivities that night.
She did have to admit, however, that this dinner had achieved more excitement than the dismal affair she’d interrupted a fortnight ago with her challenge to her brother. Only the sound of metal utensils scraping on metal plates had greeted her then when she’d entered the hall with Korin. Everyone here tonight celebrated the end of a session, their leave-taking tomorrow and the ascension of a new Empir. But that Empir was pensive. She’d known nothing two weeks ago. She’d thought she’d known something, but she’d been wrong. She had known nothing.
It hadn’t gone badly. Or, at least Nalin had assured her that it hadn’t. Once she’d ascended, she’d successfully overseen a vote on a small increase in levies owed to the throne. Nalin had warned her that any increase would meet opposition and had recommended she keep the amount as small as possible, see how the treasury managed and decide by next session if the “throne” needed more. She was forbidden from voting on anything. Her job in these sessions was to facilitate debate and intervene when that debate turned into arguments. At first she’d wondered what the point of an Empir actually was. Then she’d learned that while the Council could vote to establish new laws, she could make law without the Council’s consent, though Empir’s rarely invoked that power.
She’d met, at least in passing, nearly every Council member gathered in this hall tonight. She could remember a few of their names, but given time she’d know them all. Today, in a final flourish to sign off on her first official duties as Empir, she had called Nalin to be her Will. She’d heard some grumbling but little to worry about. Except for Lorain Zanlot, whom she worried about anyway, so what was the difference? Nalin had promised to stay until next session while his brother and mother managed the estate in Felane. So much to learn with only six months in which to do so. And who knew what might arise in the interim?
And then there was Malaki Mira. She smiled as she watched him regale the diners at his table with some story or other. He and she had taken two more rides together since the first one the day of Ariel’s funeral, and both times he had delighted her with tales about and insights into his fellow nobles. He still reminded her of Rusty, and she believed that if he were transplanted to Earth, he would find Sci-Fi and video games to be his new passion.
“You remember we’re meeting after this in your office,” Nalin whispered into her ear from where he sat beside her at the head table.
She nodded, her eyes still on Malaki. He and Nalin had rooted themselves into her life, and she admired both of them. But, despite her feelings and their suitability, she couldn’t picture herself joining with either of them. She loved…. No. Bury that thought and the name and the face that go with it.
She needed to leave, but she sat in the middle of the head table. How did one get up and go under such scrutiny?
She leaned towards Nalin. “Can I just leave?” she asked.
“Stand. They’ll all stand with you. Then leave. And don’t nod in acknowledgment. I’ll follow after.”
She rose, and, as Nalin predicted, everyone in the room rose with her. She smiled and stepped to the north door and out to her office. The guard at the door there nodded and opened it. She thanked him even though she wasn’t expected to. She wondered what she was expected to do as she sat down at the conference table. Were nobles—and especially the Empir—allowed to be rude for no other reason than they were noble? Not this noble. This noble said “please” and “thank you.” She felt alienated enough; she didn’t need to widen the distance between herself and others.
She waited at the conference table for Nalin. She liked it here better than behind her desk, another place where she felt separated from people. The table equalized things in this room. In the Council chamber she was stuck on the throne—detached at best, isolated at worst. She much preferred a place at this table and sometimes wished that the entire Council could meet around it.
Nalin arrived, the door closing behind him, and stepped directly over to her. He carried a jug of wine and a tray full of goblets which he set down on the table, but he remained standing.
“Company, Nalin?” she asked, her head cocked as she looked up at him.
“Yes, I’ve invited a few people to join us.”
“Who?”
He sat down beside her. “You’ve vested a great deal of confidence in me by making me your Will, and I am honored. But I’ve been thinking about this the last couple of days, and it has occurred to me that your situation—your lack of experience, shall I say?— requires more than one person’s thoughts
and opinions. So I invited a few nobles you know and one you don’t to join us here tonight to see if you’d like to appoint them as your privy council.”
“Oh.” He’d done all this without asking her, but, of course, he was allowed as Will to act in her name. “Are they here?”
“Right outside.”
“Then let’s bring them in.”
He stood up and returned to the door, spreading his arm wide upon opening it in a gesture of welcome. Ariannas rose as Commander Tanres accompanied four nobles to the table. She recognized three of the four—Bala Tuane, Malaki Mira and his father, Felso, the holder of Sudas. Another young woman whom Ariannas recognized but couldn’t place followed the others, and the door closed behind them.
“My Liege,” Nalin said. “You know the commander.” Tanres nodded.
“Yes,” Ariannas replied and sat down.
“I chose Bala and Malaki,” Nalin continued, “because of the friendship you appear to share with each of them.”
“All right,” she said and smiled as the two young people nodded.
“Malaki’s father, Holder Felso Mira, can provide experience and maturity to the room.” Holder Mira nodded. “And I invited Holder Melanda Cabell of Clandos because she doesn’t agree with any of us.” Ariannas turned from the brown-haired, brown-eyed noble to study Nalin and found him smiling.
“Please, sit. Join us in some wine,” Ariannas offered, and while Nalin filled everyone’s goblets, she considered her new advisors. “Trust Nalin and anyone he trusts.” That’s what her mother had told her. She did have one question, however. “What about Elsba?”
“My Liege, there’s a reason you didn’t see my father at the dinner,” Bala explained.
Ariannas’ stomach felt like a rock had dropped into it. “What?” she asked.
“He’s not well. I sent him home yesterday. I’ll be heading home myself in the morning.”
Blooded (Lisen of Solsta Book 3) Page 6
