Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3)

by Stephanie A. Cain

  "I did! Aunt Rija wouldn't let me ride my pony or play in the courtyard fountain or anything!"

  Arisanat glanced over Variden's head at his sister, who had come out of the room and was leaning on the door frame. "Aunt Rija, that's dreadful."

  "I know, I'm horrible. I made him do all his lessons and practice his singing, and I even made him help the chambermaid tidy his room, since he'd thrown his building set all over." She was grinning as she complained, though, her eyes twinkling.

  "Thank you for taking time to correct his hoydenish ways," Arisanat said. "I suppose this is what comes of a man trying to raise a child all by himself." He tickled Variden, and the sound of his son's giggle made his eyes sting. Gods, he loved the boy. He was nothing like Arisanat, but he shared Rija's artistic bent, and Arisanat thought him the spitting image of Venra at eight.

  "Now you must go away, Da," Variden said. "I'm making you a gift, but I have to finish it." He squirmed. "Put me down."

  Arisanat kissed him once more and set him gently down. Variden darted back into his room. When Rija didn't follow, Arisanat glanced questioningly at her.

  "Don't worry, Kala's in there. She'll watch over him." Rija took his arm and turned him back towards the front rooms. "So. Tell me about your journey."

  Arisanat cleared his throat. "Journey itself was uneventful. The quarry's filling faster than it was, though. If you need any more of that heartstone marble, you'd best send the orders up at once. I think the vein will be under water before Longday."

  "Gods have mercy, Aris," she whispered. Her brows drew together as she stared up at him.

  "Never mind. Fenla's a genius, and his apprentice is nearly as skilled. Fenla has him up scouting for a new location." Arisanat straightened his shoulders; she didn't need to know how worried he was. "Your husband did request your presence at the estate."

  She waved a hand. "As soon as this commission is finished. Another fortnight, at most." She pressed her lips together in something that was trying to be a smile. "We'll figure something out, Aris."

  "Of course we will. We're House Burojan." He hoped his smile was more convincing than hers. "Now I could use a hot bath, and perhaps a massage. The roads are not smooth, this early in spring. I'll join you for dinner later."

  "And Variden?"

  "Tonight, of course." He paused. "Rija? When you go back to the estate, take Vari with you. I think he would be better away from the city, just now." He smiled at her and headed for his bath. He opted to skip the massage, though, when his chamberlain knocked as he was drying off.

  "Beg pardon, my lord. Councilman Birona is here to speak to you. I told him you are just returned from the country, but he insists. He says he must apprise you of developments within the council."

  "Ah, well, let me finish dressing, then bring him in." Birona was head of the Third Family, and he had been a welcome voice of reason on the council this last year. Known as a moderate until then, he had been less than enamored of King Marsede's peace plans. "And send in wine and refreshments. My head is aching."

  "My lord." The chamberlain bowed and withdrew.

  Five minutes later, Lord Birona strode in. He was bulky without quite being fat, but his small eyes and broad forehead pushed him across the line into ugly. Nevertheless he was one of the shrewdest men Arisanat knew, as well as one of the richest. In recent years, with the slow failing of Arisanat's quarry, Birona's wealth was likely creeping up even on him. Best of all, for Arisanat's purposes, was that Birona's fortune had been made on supplying the army and rebuilding Rivarden. Marsede's peace had threatened that.

  "Burojan," Birona said, sitting without preamble or courtesies. "Trouble in the countryside, or was that a pretext to get away from the endless council meetings?"

  Arisanat snorted and straightened in his chair. He removed a cinnamon shard from the little box at his elbow and stuck it between his teeth. "Neither. Just a bit of business that couldn't be done without me."

  Birona merely grunted. He was studying Arisanat. The chamberlain entered with his tray of coffee and sweetcakes, pouring silently and vanishing again. Arisanat sipped his drink and met Birona's gaze.

  "Well, I hate to trouble you so soon after you returned home, but I might as well tell you what trouble the council has caused while you were away."

  "Please do. Coffee or wine?"

  "Need you ask? Wine." Birona took the proffered goblet and leaned back in his chair. "There's been some unrest regarding the new tax on coffee. Ridiculous. It isn't as if we can transport it from the Long Coast at no cost."

  Arisanat rolled his eyes. "It could be worse. The council could have decided to tax salt."

  Birona chuckled. "The king seems uneasy about the Amethirian ambassador's long absence. They keep making excuses about storm season, but I wonder... You don't suppose that Vistaren fellow is upset about the treaty being broken? Perhaps he'd rather have had Razem to begin with, anyway?"

  Arisanat laughed with Birona. With Azmei's betrothal to the prince, interest had been piqued. It had gotten around Tamnen City, at least in the Families, that Vistaren of Amethir was a same-lover. It didn't much matter now, Arisanat supposed, but the Azmei he had known would have wanted true love and an epic romance like those in the story books. She must have been bitterly disappointed to learn her betrothed's affection ran towards men.

  "Just as well the plans fell through, then," Arisanat remarked. Birona gave him an odd look, but didn't protest. Arisanat bit back a smile. If Birona had recoiled, Arisanat could have blamed his long journey for the gauche words. As it was, he clearly needed no apology.

  "But back to council business." Birona sighed. "I might as well warn you, since you'll no doubt hear it tomorrow. The king has had someone negotiating behind our backs."

  Arisanat went cold. "What?"

  Birona scrunched up his beady eyes. "There's been a Diplomat in Lindira. They've agreed to a prisoner exchange."

  "Damn them," Arisanat whispered. His pulse began pounding in his temple. He had known something like this was coming, but it still hurt to have his suspicions proven. He darted a glance at Birona, hoping the man hadn't heard his incautious words, but of course he had.

  "Damnation seems unlikely, but there will certainly be more loss of profits--and of life, of course." Birona drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and took a long sip of his wine. "There are too many of us who stand to lose in this proposition." His voice was grim. "I have poured a great deal of my own purse into the rebuilding of Rivarden."

  Arisanat gulped his wine, trying to push down his temper. "Why did you do that? I've always wondered."

  Birona shrugged. "After the Push, I put certain plans in motion. There were quite a few loyal Tamnese citizens volunteering for the war after that, tensions running high and all. My agents had all they could do to keep up with demand. My father always invested safely, but I prefer to invest only when there is a chance of great reward."

  Arisanat offered him a faint smile, though his mouth had gone dry. Perhaps Marsede's foolish actions had given him the opportunity he had been speaking. If Birona would back his claim, Arisanat should have more than enough resources to act as soon as Marsede was dead. He licked his lips and fished for another sliver of cinnamon to freshen his mouth. "No wonder your reception of the peace talks has been so...lackluster."

  "I am sick to death of this whimpering after peace," Birona said baldly. "Particularly when we have the resources to win the war outright, should someone have the balls to commit them."

  "Were I on the throne, there would be none of this whimpering after peace," Arisanat promised. It was the first time he had spoken those words--were I on the throne--and they stung his lips. But he didn't try to recall them.

  "Would that we could see that day, Arisanat," Birona replied. "Alas, I suspect the prince will not oblige."

  "Certainly he will not. As much reason as Razem has to hate the Strid, he lacks the audacity to defy his father."

  "Then you believe we will come to te
rms with Strid?"

  Arisanat narrowed his eyes. "You know Marsede's thoughts. He might even entertain the notion of a treaty marriage."

  "Gods forbid!"

  Arisanat allowed a little silence, then he tipped his head to one side and smiled faintly. "I forbid, Birona. The gods sleep, but I will stop it, if I may."

  Birona licked his lips. "And you would have my help, I assume."

  Arisanat tilted his head and smiled. "Who else but the head of the Third Family? We all know Lady Tel supports Marsede, but there are others who would ally with us to prevent a treaty."

  "Through purely legal channels, of course," Birona agreed. He leaned forward in his chair, his bulk making it look like a mountain moving. "But who else would have the courage to move a bit...outside the bounds of the law?"

  Arisanat bit back the smile that wanted to creep across his face. "Who can say? For now, let us agree that we will vote against any treaty Marsede proposes."

  Birona held out a meaty hand for Arisanat to clasp. "So it is agreed."

  ***

  Razem half-feared he would hear shouting as he approached Emran Kho's office. It had been four days since his father had swept his feet out from under him with the news of the prisoner exchange, and he still hadn't fully accepted it himself. He dreaded seeing how Arisanat was taking the news.

  Arisanat had not been in the council because he had been called away to Burojan Manor, some sixty leagues northeast of Tamnen City, to deal with a crisis at his main quarry. Razem hadn't asked for details, but even three years ago, when Razem and Arisanat had been on speaking terms, his cousin had been worried about the lifespan of the quarry. The marble supply couldn't go on forever, and that quarry had been the mainstay of Burojan income for nearly two centuries.

  There were raised voices in Kho's office, as he had expected, but Razem had not expected to see Destar Thorne doing the shouting. Razem eased himself up to the doorway, hoping to avoid Thorne's notice, but Kho saw him and cut Thorne off.

  "While I appreciate your concerns, Prince Razem is here to consult with me and Lord Burojan. If you have nothing to add to the discussion about the prisoner exchange, I must ask you to go."

  Thorne swung around to glare at Razem. "And you! You should have known better."

  Razem raised his hands in a show of innocence. "I don't know what you're angry about, and I don't want to know. It isn't my fault."

  Thorne's eyes narrowed. "You should have told your father this was a matter for warriors and ambassadors, not princes. Look what happened to your sister."

  Razem's stomach tightened. "I had nothing to do with this, Thorne. My father acted without my knowledge, and he didn't see fit to ask me if I would go. He ordered me. And I, being a dutiful son, obeyed." Damn Thorne. Arisanat wasn't even here yet and already they were arguing.

  "Being a dutiful son, your goal ought to be not getting yourself killed," Thorne snapped.

  Razem made his voice cool. He liked Thorne, and he knew Thorne and Azmei had been close. But this was going too far. "As your purview is the sea, I fail to understand why you are even here."

  Thorne's eyes narrowed even further, but he didn't reply. Instead, Kho spoke from his seat at the desk.

  "I asked Destar to be here, your highness. I welcome input from those who have different outlooks than I, and Thorne is a brilliant strategist. I am certain he will have wise counsel on this matter." He slanted a glance over at the sea captain. "Once he gets past his temper."

  Thorne sputtered but subsided, glowering at both of them. Without speaking, he stomped over to a chair that had been crammed into the office.

  Razem leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "Who else is coming?"

  "Captain Ysdra, my second here in the capital," Kho said. "I want him to know our plans, and, as I said, I value input from others, if it is well-considered."

  Arisanat appeared just moments after Kho had finished speaking. He tapped on the doorframe, then bowed properly to Razem before acknowledging Kho. Smiling a welcome, Kho gestured him to a seat.

  Arisanat was a tall man with broad shoulders. From a distance, he and Razem had been taken for brothers. They both had the brown skin and black hair of the ruling family, though up close an observer would see that Razem's eyes were truly golden, while Arisanat's were light brown flecked with gold. The purple godsmark on his left temple was the only thing that marred his looks, though Razem had always thought if Arisanat would let his hair grow out from its severe cut, that would hide it.

  "Prince Razem," Arisanat said now. "Lord-General Kho. Lord-Captain Thorne." He sat in his chair with economical movements, not quite looking at Razem. "I apologize for my tardiness. I was waylaid by Lady Talt in the hall, and you know how she likes to talk."

  Kho's smile was easy. "Well do we all know it, I think," he said. "But you are not late. We await Ysdra still."

  Arisanat nodded and fell silent. Razem probably shouldn't speak. They had been stiffly polite with each other since the night Razem had poured out his grief in front of his cousin. They were certainly not as close as they had been, which was never as close as each of them had been to Venra. But Razem still cared for his cousin, and after a moment he couldn't resist.

  "I hope your business at Burojan Manor fared well."

  Arisanat's gaze wandered over to him. He seemed astonished that Razem would speak to him. "It went tolerably well, your highness. I thank you."

  "And your sisters are all well?"

  A pause. "They are as well as may be. Rija continues her work on your sculpture of Princess Azmei."

  Razem nodded. "I am glad to hear it. And how fares the quarry?"

  It was perhaps a small mercy that Captain Ysdra arrived at that moment. He bowed to the prince and lords, saluted to Kho, and took a seat.

  "Very good," Kho said. "Does everyone know why we are here?"

  "Aye," Thorne growled as Razem nodded.

  "Yes, sir," said Ysdra.

  Arisanat's jaw tightened. "I am not aware." His voice, which had already been cool, was icy now. He glanced over at Razem. "Perhaps your highness will enlighten me."

  Winds take him. No one had told Arisanat? Razem swallowed. What would be the best way to break the news? If only he'd had time to plan this out—but then, Father hadn't given him time to plan what he would say, because his father knew him too well. If Razem had known he was expected to break the news to Arisanat, Razem would simply have skipped the meeting.

  "Spit it out." For the first time in months, Arisanat didn't speak formally to him.

  "It isn't easy news," Razem cautioned. He cleared his throat. "My father has arranged to trade a prisoner with Strid. He hopes it will further the peace talks."

  Arisanat lifted his chin, nostrils flaring, and his face drained of color, but that was the only indication of his temper. He didn't blow up or lash out. If anything, he drew into himself, tightening. He met Razem's gaze for a long moment that was so cold it burned. Razem was aware of Ysdra and Thorne and Kho waiting for his reaction, but no one spoke.

  "Does his majesty explain why he offers me this insult?" Arisanat asked finally. His voice froze the whole room.

  Razem knew he had to thaw the situation somehow, but he had no idea what to say. He floundered for words and grasped the first ones that came to mind. "Not insult, Aris. His majesty honors the sacrifice Venra made for our kingdom. He deems it too high a sacrifice to allow anyone else to make." It was a bald-faced lie; many more people had died after Venra, and if they weren't of the highest echelon of families, they were still someone's family. But if it appeased Arisanat—

  "Your highness will forgive me if I do not take it thus." Arisanat was drawn so tightly into himself that he seemed almost a statue. "No good can be had by appeasing the Strid dogs. They are honorless. Every concession Marsede makes shows his weakness in the face of their barbarity."

  Razem agreed with Arisanat more than he did Marsede, but he couldn't admit that, not even in as private a setting as th
is, after his outburst in the council chamber. Nor could he bring himself to defend his father's actions. He met Arisanat's gaze unhappily.

  "And you summoned me here to tell me this? Why?" Arisanat gestured at the others. "So you would have witnesses to see me speak treachery? Is Lord-General Kho here to arrest me?"

  "No!" Razem exclaimed, shocked. "How could you think so? My father has not suppressed the speech of those who are against the war. Nor would he suppress the speech of those who support escalation. You are here because my father wishes you to travel to Salishok with us."

  Arisanat stood so abruptly his chair scraped back against the stone floor. "Your father would have me watch yet again as someone returns from the war when my brother never will?"

  "Damn it, Aris, do you think you are the only one who mourns Venra?" Razem flared. "My father grieved for his nephew before he grieved for his daughter. I lost a man who was as close to me as a brother! You do not have sole possession of his memory!"

  That was probably the wrong thing to say, too, but Razem had lost two people now—his best friend and his sister. Arisanat had never been close to Azmei.

  "If you had truly loved Venra, you would not have agreed to give your sister to Amethir in exchange for peace talks," Arisanat spat.

  "I did not agree. I protested! But Azmei herself agreed, and she was right to do so."

  "Then she got what she deserved." Arisanat's voice was ugly.

  Razem punched him. His fist connected solidly with his cousin's nose, sending a shock of pain all the way up his wrist. He heard Kho and Thorne shouting, but he was too focused on the sight of bright red blood erupting from Arisanat's nose to pay attention. Arisanat rocked back in his chair, eyes wide. Apparently he hadn't expected Razem to hit him. For that matter, Razem hadn't expected to hit him, either. His body had acted before his mind caught up with it.

  There were hands on his arms, grasping so tightly it almost hurt. Arisanat's face was flushed as Captain Ysdra flung an arm across his chest to hold him back from throwing himself at the prince. Ysdra was getting blood down his uniform front, but he didn't seem to notice.