He considered writing a letter, finding someone he could trust to take it to Avaret. But to whom could he address it? Tanres seemed the best choice, but the Guard’s commander, like all commanders before her, knew perfectly well how to manage the Empir’s security. No, he’d write no letter. His Garlan days were done now. And with that decided, he lay down on his pallet and fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A noble man
A flask of wine and two goblets sat on Lorain’s desk, all ready for greeting a stranger. She had settled into her chair, two fingers slipped into her pouch to touch the child that drew life at her teat. She could feel that little bit of fuzz she’d been told grew all over the baby’s skin at the beginning of the last month, and it soothed her to know everything seemed to be proceeding normally. Primate Niko had stopped by a couple of times—at his nephew Tazori’s urging—and had declared the baby healthy. Then he’d recommended a healer from Solsta. Fearing that she’d get that hermit—Titus or something—who’d assisted her in the transfer, she’d sent off to Erinina instead to put one of their healers on notice. She couldn’t have the Empir’s only Heir emerge without somebody present who could intervene if any problems arose.
She looked at her desk, saw the wine and pulled her hand from her pouch as she remembered the day’s primary purpose. A letter had arrived, a letter whose point had been poorly veiled by the writer. She remembered it word for word.
My lord,
We share an enemy, and I believe it would be well for us to share a strategy as well.
My representative, Desit Ortanga, will come to you tomorrow morning. If you choose not to see her or wish to change place or time, leave a message with the guard at the palace door.
Ondra Nurog of Thristas
Lorain had thrown the letter into the fire the minute she’d read it. Written messages couldn’t be trusted to remain in one’s keeping, especially one which could place her in direct opposition to the Empir. She’d left no return message with the guard at the door; this morning was fine for an intriguing meeting. She had no idea who this Ondra was, nor, for that matter, her delegate, but they all appeared to have something in common—no love for Ariannas.
She heard the light footsteps in the hall before she heard the knock. She rose from her desk and, her pouch leading her forward, went to answer the door.
“Holder Zanlot?” the brown-haired woman asked, her eyes surveying Lorain and the office behind her.
“Yes.”
“Desit Ortanga, at your service.”
“Please. Come in.” Lorain stepped back, allowing the woman to pass. Then, after closing the door, she went to the chair behind her desk and gestured for the woman to sit opposite her.
“You have questions,” the woman stated. She’d eased her well-muscled body back into the chair and smiled at Lorain, and Lorain decided this might very well be a profitable relationship. Certainly, the woman in front of her with the leather-thong bracelets with colorful charms would tell the truth when it suited her, and that suited Lorain well enough.
“You know who I am, but to me you are a mystery.”
“Of course,” the woman replied. “I am Thristan, and we Thristans are blunt.”
“So, be blunt,” Lorain encouraged her.
“I and my allies see an opportunity for all of us. We’d like to liberate Thristas from its Garlan rule. You’d like to see your child as Empir. It’s simple. You help me; we’ll help you. And all we ask is that once we’ve—how do you say?—terminated your current Empir’s reign leaving your child as the only viable Heir, you as regent will sever all Garla’s ties with Thristas.”
Lorain sat back in her chair with a sigh that verged on a gasp. This was amazing, unbelievable, brilliant and the most foolhardy plan she’d ever heard. Not as insane as Ariel’s plan for his mother, she realized. If she could hang on to control here in Avaret while this unfolded, she’d have it all in the end. She didn’t care a bit about Thristas. Just sand and rocks thirsty for water. Her little Heir didn’t need it.
She leaned forward, chin on the heel of her hand, elbow on the desk. “Tell me more.”
“We won’t act until everything is in place, probably not before late summer.” Lorain nodded, and the Thristan woman continued. “At the moment, we’re watching the new Empir to learn her routine. Once we have determined how best to proceed, someone will contact you to let you know what we need.”
“Just as long as my part in this won’t be discovered.”
“You’ll be of no use to us later if that happens,” the woman said with a sly smile.
“Will you be the one to contact me?”
“Not likely.”
“Then how will I know that the person who contacts me is from you?”
“A password. ‘Liberty.’”
“Yes. Yes, that’s good.”
“You agree?” the woman asked as she rose.
Lorain took a deep breath. “I agree.”
By the end of Lorain’s next breath, the woman was gone, the door closed behind her. Lorain leaned back in her chair and wondered if this were vision or reality. She felt as though she’d woken up from a dream. A dream that fulfilled her dream. Then she saw it, on the chair, right in front of her. She stood up and stepped around the desk to be sure. She picked it up, studied it in the light. Yes, it was. It truly was. A leather-thong bracelet, filled with charms. Reality.
Nalin had allowed himself to concentrate on Holding Felane issues in his own office in the old palace for the last couple of days, but this morning, he planned to head over to the Keep to inform his Empir of an occurrence he’d witnessed yesterday. Having created three stacks of papers—tasks completed, those in progress and those not yet tackled—he stood at his desk feeling almost playful as he assigned each remaining note and document to one of the piles. What a difference a new Empir could make in a life. He couldn’t believe how light he felt now that he’d fulfilled his promise to Flandari and seen Ariannas seated on the throne.
After he’d crisscrossed the three short stacks and put his chunk of rose-colored crystal on it, he straightened his tunic and left for the Keep. The day had dawned warm and had grown warmer, the sun reflecting its heat off the stones of the plaza. Summer was upon them now. The great door to the Keep had been opened to catch whatever breeze might come up the hill from the sea below. Two guards stood there in their Ilazer green tunics, their metal chest plates abandoned in favor of comfort, a modification in uniform Ariannas had recommended to Commander Tanres when the temperature had begun to rise at the start of July.
Nalin stepped past the guards. As the Empir’s Will, he entered unquestioned. Inside the Keep, he went directly to Ariannas’ office and entered. He found her sitting at the conference table, poring over one of the scrolls her mother had left behind for her. He wondered what questions this one would evoke. He loved the way she had accepted the challenge of learning all she could before the next Council session. She’d grown dreadfully serious about everything, but at least she hadn’t lost her enthusiasm.
“Nalin! You’ve returned to me from your other duties.”
“Yes, my Liege,” he said as he sat down across from her at the table. “I’d let matters go nearly too long. But now I’ve got instructions sent off to my brother, and he can handle everything in my absence.”
“I told you to go home.”
“Aye, my Liege, but since I’m not needed there and I’m still needed here….”
“All this stuff from my mother can be overwhelming,” she said, shuffling the sheets of parchment once. “You help me make sense of it.”
“I try. Now, I have a small piece of news.”
“What?” She sat up straight and attentive.
“Lorain had a visitor yesterday, someone I didn’t recognize.”
“Oh, really.”
“Might have been a new messenger or a friend of Tazori Dors or Pretor Cabell, but there was something about the way this woman carried herself that…oh, I don’t kn
ow…seemed different and yet…not exactly. An enigma. Maybe I imagined her.”
“Describe her,” Ariannas said softly and reached her hand across the table without actually touching Nalin.
“Let me see. Brown hair. Tall. Sandals instead of boots, which is odd if she’d been traveling. Um…no leggings, no sleeves to her tunic.”
“Quite specific for an imaginary friend.”
Nalin nodded. “Something about her left me wondering what Lorain was up to, but then again….”
“Lorain could just be trying to rattle you and, hence, me.”
“I certainly wouldn’t put it past her.”
Ariannas nodded and leaned back in her chair. “Then let’s not worry about it unless something else happens that appears suspicious.”
The door leading to Jazel’s office blew open, and the clerk rushed in. “My Liege, my lord, a message from Seffa. The courier said it was urgent.” By the time she finished speaking, she’d reached the table and passed the note in her hand to the Empir. Ariannas opened it as Jazel left the room.
“Creators,” she breathed and looked at Nalin, her eyes threatening tears.
“What?”
“It’s from Bala. Elsba…Elsba is…. I have to go.” She stood up and dropped the note on the table. Nalin grabbed it.
“Wait,” he urged as he began to read.
My Liege,
Must be quick. My father is dying. He wants you here with him, if you can.
Bala
He looked up at the Empir who resembled Lisen more now than she had since the night of her ascension.
“He needs a necropath,” she said, trapped by his stare. “That’s why he’s asked for me. I can’t say no.”
“What about Erinina? Can’t they send someone?”
“They didn’t have a necropath in February when I needed one. What makes you think they have one now?”
“You can’t just up and go,” he protested. “You’re the Empir. You need guards and attendants—”
“Screw the guards and attendants! Nalin, there’s no time. Two days, a day and a half at the least since this was sent. The same for us to get there again. Find the guards. I don’t need any attendants. I’m going to pack.” She turned to leave.
“Pack something grey,” he yelled after her as she stepped through the door, but she was gone before she could reply.
Nalin tossed Bala’s note on the table and contemplated how alone this was going to leave his late friend’s sister. She’d only lost Jozan a few months ago, and now this? But Elsba hadn’t been well in February even before Jozan’s murder, and the stress of what had followed had only made him worse. Nalin had heard the man’s lungs deteriorating, the wheezing growing louder and more pronounced. This news shouldn’t have surprised him, but it had. He’d lost how many friends in the last few months? And yet, he still held on to the false belief that dying only happened to strangers.
He had to go. He stood up and headed out to the old palace to pack his things. He’d bring Benir along. Benir could serve both himself and the Empir as well, if necessary. And yes, he’d be packing something grey, too.
She pulled Pharaoh up in the Tuane castle courtyard well in front of the others. She’d ridden the last mile or so all alone, Pharaoh eager to run faster and faster for her. She knew the two guards followed after as close as they could, but they’d finally given up attempting to keep up with the great black stallion and his equally eager rider.
This trip had turned out to be a bigger deal than she’d wanted. She’d waited at the stable, bag packed and ready to go, while horses and a carriage for luggage had been prepared for the journey. It had taken two hours for everyone to gather and join her there, and while she waited, she’d stand up, pace back and forth amongst the horses all panting and eager to move and would eventually sit down on whatever bench happened to be convenient. Then, after a few moments, she’d pop back up again to repeat the process. She had no appetite for patience; Elsba wouldn’t last forever.
Now, the second morning since they’d departed Avaret, she’d arrived, and the ever-watchful Bala had run out to greet her, a stable hand taking Pharaoh as Ariannas jumped to the ground from his back.
“Oh, my Liege. Thank you for coming.” Bala looked down the long empty road that led up to the castle. “You’re alone?” she asked, brow furrowed.
“No,” Ariannas replied. “They’ll catch up. How’s your father?”
“It’s nearly done. I’m so grateful you made it.”
“As am I. Take me to him.”
Bala led her into the castle that Ariannas could barely remember from her only other visit here. Possession and the confusion of her first killing had altered her to the point where the memories seemed clouded in cotton. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Elsba and a death brought on too early by the loyal service he’d given her.
“I should warn you,” Bala whispered as they ascended the stairs. “My aunt is here. She said this might displease you.”
Ariannas sighed. She should have realized. But she couldn’t fault Eloise. She and Elsba were sister and brother, and Bala undoubtedly found her aunt’s presence comforting.
“She has more right to be here than I,” Ariannas replied.
Bala said nothing, merely opened the door to Elsba’s bedchamber. As the two of them stepped inside, Eloise rose from beside her brother’s bed and nodded silently to Ariannas. Eloise and Elsba were the only ones in the room; no healer had been summoned. This told the story. Elsba was ready to die.
Ariannas headed directly to the side of the bed opposite the sooth where a chair stood.
“May I?” she asked.
“Please,” Bala replied.
She sat down and took Elsba’s right hand in both of hers. His lungs fought for air, his breathing loud and labored. Every once in a while, a moan would escape, but other than that the holder appeared to be letting go.
“Elsba,” Ariannas whispered, leaning in, hoping he’d hear. “It’s Lisen. I’m here. I’ll guide you through.” There was no reaction though Ariannas hadn’t expected any. “When did he get so bad?” she asked Bala.
“It had been coming,” Bala replied. She’d pulled another chair up beside Eloise, and both of them sat with their hands touching Elsba’s left arm. “He hadn’t been well for some time, and, well, these last months….”
“Put a great strain on him I imagine.” Ariannas finished Bala’s sentence. She stared down into the holder’s still face. This man had stood between herself and destruction more than once in the short time she’d known him. He’d sent her off to Rossla in a carriage with Nalin and his best driver, setting aside grieving the death of his older daughter. Immediately on top of losing a child, he’d run off to Avaret to try to free his stubborn sister from Ariel’s dungeon. Then, he’d taken charge of the Council while the shift in power between Ariel and herself had unfolded.
She gasped as Elsba’s hand tightened around her own. She closed her eyes to open the connection, to see if the time had come. Creators, I barely made it in time. A calm whiteness engulfed Ariannas.
“Come,” Elsba invited, and Ariannas accepted the offer to join Elsba on his journey home.
She opened her eyes and looked directly at Bala. “It’s time,” she said softly.
Eloise rose, pulling her niece up with her.
“No,” Bala protested in a whisper.
“Kiss him farewell,” Eloise said, the first words she’d spoken since Ariannas’ arrival. Bala leaned over and kissed her father on the forehead, and with a look at Ariannas of both fear and unbearable sadness, she left the room with her aunt.
Ariannas closed her eyes again and slipped unobtrusively back into the light. Here she was herself, Lisen, and no other. Nobody could rob that from her in this space. She glided along with Elsba, and through the bright light of life, she saw the tunnel, the darkness that would encompass them all just at the end. Famar loomed before them, and Lisen held Elsba’s hand in both worlds as they approache
d it. It was actually pleasant to experience death coming in peace rather than horror. Elsba’s soul feared nothing. At the end, he expected a reunion with his spouse and Jozan. Lisen envied him that.
A sudden halt. Elsba hesitated. Why now, when the sweetness was so close?
“You’ve changed.”
Lisen started.
“You’re the Empir now.”
“Elsba?”
“I’ve waited months to tell you this. You blame yourself for your brother’s tyranny, but you have to stop. Everyone else forgives you. I forgive you. It’s time you forgave yourself. Your forgiveness is all you have.”
Elsba’s words left Lisen dazed. She shook her head, nearly losing the connection, and then managed to re-center herself.
They moved forward into the darkness, Lisen ever aware of the light reaching out to them from the other end of the tunnel. The moment neared for her to let go and allow her charge to move on without her. No words left to exchange, unlike with her mother. No fight for survival on this plane, unlike Jozan. Noble in death as he had been in life, Elsba accepted all that lay ahead of him as a continuation, not an ending.
Nearly there, Lisen thought. The stately procession must move on without her. But Elsba held on for one last moment. Into Lisen’s mind came a sense of two additional souls in the tunnel, far away, close to the growing light before her. She recognized Jozan, bright and brilliant, extending love to Lisen for eternity. With her—and Lisen could only guess at this—waited Elsba’s beloved, his Firjo. Lisen would not be leaving Elsba to embrace this alone. With a deep breath, she relinquished his hand in both worlds.
The light and the tunnel faded into oblivion, and after a few more breaths to restore her, Lisen opened her eyes and looked down at Elsba. Peace emanated from his face; all his burdens had slipped from his soul, and he was gone. Lisen leaned over and kissed his forehead. For a few brief moments in the midst of the chaos that had surrounded her struggle to overcome her brother, this man had become her father. She hadn’t realized this until now, and she felt the tears begin to burn down her cheeks.
Blooded (Lisen of Solsta Book 3) Page 9
