The first thing they did when they arrived in Salishok was endure an official welcome from the city leaders. Razem put on his most cordial expression and did his best to convey that he was pleased to be in Salishok again, and that he was looking forward to enjoying all the delights the city had to offer. It was partly true, at least. He enjoyed the dry heat of the Kreyden District, and he was looking forward to the unique fruits that grew in this region. After diamonds, the largest exports of the Kreyden District were fruit and fruit wine.
"I am honored to have you here, Prince Razem," Baron Arkad said as they made their way to the palace. "We have set aside the most luxurious accommodations for you and your honored companions." He wiped a finger along his thin mustache. "I was not certain what you intended for Duke Oler, so we have prepared a comfortable and secure room for him. I have heard that he is in ill health."
Razem nodded. "He is very weak. His mind is still as hale as it ever was--which I realize is not saying much. But the healers who have treated him for the past year of his illness know best what he needs. I will have Rendon, the head healer, speak with your chamberlain."
"Very good, very good." Arkad was a solid man who had once been a warrior of some note. His muscle had largely run to fat in recent years. He was at least sixty and possibly older; his son led their soldiers now. He smiled at Razem. "You are looking well, your highness. It truly is a joy to see you again."
Razem felt a rush of affection for his old advisor. "And you, Arkad. You look hale and happy."
"I am a grandfather now! Rasha's wife gave us twins this past Autumn Evener. Twins! Bless her, a girl and a boy. It has brought new joy to my life, having the babes." Arkad beamed. "I confess, I have not been as attentive to matters of state as I should have since they were born."
Razem chuckled. "I congratulate you and Rasha's wife both. And Rasha, I suppose, though I wonder if he has any time to spend with his children, if he is taking up the slack you leave in the rope."
"Insolence," Arkad said happily. "Rasha and Jemi are here in the city. I summoned them when I learned you would be coming with the Deranged Duke. I could not have you here without seeing them again."
"I am glad to hear it." Razem's pleasure had dimmed somewhat at the mention of Duke Oler, though. He pursed his lips. "Arkad, what is the mood here in Salishok? What do people think about Duke Oler's imminent release?"
Arkad frowned, scratching at his beard. "Well, it has been...a rather mixed reaction, I suppose I should say. There are those who see this as a step towards peace, and plenty of us here in the Kreyden would like to see that. Goodness knows, I had hoped Rasha would inherit my lands in a time of peace, and now here I am twenty years later hoping that perhaps my grandchildren at least will see peace." He shook his head. "But there are others who... Well, they aren't so optimistic, I suppose you might say. And it is hard for me to fault them. This city alone has six or eight score who lost family or property to Oler's depredations. When you look out at the region as a whole, there are probably hundreds of orphans who were made by the Deranged Duke and his men. And that's not counting Dinnsan, which I know was particularly painful for you." He glanced over his shoulder, where the rest of the prince's party walked some distance behind. "Not to mention poor Burojan there. I can't believe he came with you!"
Razem clenched his jaw, but after a moment he managed to relax enough to speak. "Venra's death was a blow to all of us, it is true. And I told Aris that I couldn't come to Salishok if he didn't come with me, to give his blessing." He met Arkad's gray eyes and was pleased to see a light of respect there. "I don't know if I handled it well, but he agreed to come. Though I confess, I had choice words for my father after he put ME in the position to break the news to Aris."
Arkad grunted. "I imagine your father was not terribly impressed."
"My father rarely is." Razem sighed. "He loved Azmei so much, Arkad. I have difficulty living up to the standards she set me. Not only did she offer to live in a foreign country away from all our people, but then she died because of her desire for peace. Father sees only that, and he doesn't understand that I desire peace, too--but peace without conciliations. Is that so difficult to understand?"
"Mmm. It is often difficult for the young to understand the old, as much as it is difficult for the old to understand the young. But I think your father understands you very well, Prince Razem. My suspicion is that he simply disagrees with you. Perhaps it is that, having lost one child to the war, he fears even more mightily the thought of losing the other child to the same war." Arkad squeezed Razem's shoulder.
Could that be true? Was it possible that Marsede's stubbornness over this whole matter was him trying to protect Razem? Razem stared at the baron, trying to form a coherent response. To his mixed embarrassment and relief, Arkad chuckled.
"I see this is a novel suggestion. Well, think on it, young man, as wisdom from this particular old man." He patted Razem's shoulder and let him go. When he spoke next, he raised his voice. "Here we are, then. My chamberlain Risia will show the others to their rooms. I myself shall accompany you and Lord Burojan."
Chapter 5
"Hawk! Get up! We're moving into Salishok today."
Hawk sat up on his cot, rubbing his eyes. His reflexes were rusty; the guard's approach hadn't wakened him. For that matter, he hadn't been in the habit of sleeping in the middle of the day when he was a Tamnese warrior. And that thought brought on its heels another thought: When had he stopped thinking of himself as a Tamnese warrior?
"Prince Razem's party has arrived, then?" he asked.
"Duke Oler has reached the Embattled City," the guard replied. She was a mahogany-skinned woman with wide lips that were currently flattened in disapproval. "I assume that means your prince is with them."
Hawk nodded, not bothering to argue with her. Let her have her zealotry. He would settle for swinging his legs over the side of his cot and searching for his boots.
"Commander Ayowir has ordered that we ride within the hour. You have little to pack, but be certain you are ready." The guard turned to go.
"I don't suppose you'd be kind enough to release the shackle on my leg?" Hawk made his voice as mild as possible. "I have no desire to run away and destroy the peace process. I merely wish to have my boots on before the last minute."
She snorted, but turned back and knelt to unlock the shackle. "There will be no peace. Don't delude yourself. We are exchanging one prisoner for another, but that does not mean the war will end."
Hawk shook his head. "Do you not wish to learn what peace was like? You must be too young to remember it. I am not."
"Silence! I will not hear your seditious talk. There can be no peace while you Tamnese dogs live in our Kreyden." She stood and strode out of the tent.
Since when was talk of peace seditious? Hawk wondered. He didn't bother with being offended over being called a Tamnese dog. He'd heard it often enough over the past six years.
He was washed, shaved, and dressed when the next guard arrived to take him to Commander Ayowir's tent. As he walked away from his own tent, he saw servants already disassembling it. The guard he followed this time was a slender man about his own age. Hawk wondered if this man would also consider peace talk to be dangerous. He decided not to try him, but the thought continued to trouble him as he greeted Ayowir.
She was dressed in her full uniform despite the heat, her sword resting on her hip and a dozen medals decorating her sash. Her hair was braided in a crown about her brow, which was furrowed. "He looks shabby," she said to someone over her shoulder. "Let's put him in nicer clothes."
To Hawk's astonishment, the two people who bustled up to him were tailors, a man and a woman. They measured him and studied his complexion and within minutes were coaxing him out of his clothes. He shrugged out of his tunic and shirt, then glanced meaningfully at Ayowir.
"I have my modesty," he said, and was rewarded with her sharp bark of a laugh.
"If you had modesty, it was lost to me years ago when
I first had you deloused," she said. "But to please you, I'll turn my back." She did so and the tailors gestured again for Hawk to remove his breeches. "I know we just gave you new clothes, but with Prince Razem's greeting, I will not have you returning home looking shabby. Your uniform was burned long ago--not that it would fit you now, I suppose--but we'll at least deck you out properly."
As Ayowir spoke, the tailors draped him in silk and linen, the trousers so thin he almost felt he had none on. He had to admit they draped nicely when tucked into his boots, but he wished they had more substance. The silk shirt was fine, but the bright blue tunic they put over it made him feel like a court dandy. Warriors in the desert wore light-colored clothing, both to serve as camouflage against the dusty landscape and to protect them from the sun's heat. Blue seemed ridiculous, and he said so.
Ayowir turned around and put her hands on her hips. "Just wait until we're finished with you, then," she said, and Hawk flinched as the woman tailor draped a scarlet cloak around his shoulders. His reaction made Ayowir laugh again. She dismissed the tailors with quick praise and then beckoned Hawk to come over to the table.
"Have a glass of wine. I think you'll need it for the afternoon to come." She made a face. "I could do without all this ceremony, and honestly, I share your opinion of the clothes. But I have my instructions, and I am going to give the people of Salishok the best damn show they could ask for when their war hero returns."
"I'm no war hero," Hawk muttered. He had been a captive for six years. What kind of hero was that?
Ayowir's eyebrows shot up. "I think you'll see differently when we get to the city." She poured a glass of wine for him and one for herself. "Drink up," she added, and followed her own instructions.
When Hawk got to the bottom of his goblet, he saw that she had one last piece to complete his outfit. He nearly dropped the beaten copper vessel when he realized what it was.
"I know you thought this lost on the battlefield," Ayowir said, holding the scabbard across her palms. "I couldn't let you have it, but I wouldn't let it be destroyed. Talon was almost as iconic as The Hawk, you know." She gave him a crooked smile. "I think this is all a mighty mistake, but as I said, I have my instructions. And if I have to give you back to the Tamnese, I'm damned if I give you back less than what you were."
Talon. Hawk felt his throat tighten. He had thought his sword lost on the battlefield, and he had mourned the loss of the sword as much as the loss of his honor. Having the sword back would not make him again the man he had been, but it was the next best thing. He rested his hand on the pommel of the sword, fingers tracing every swirling detail. "I thank you," he choked out.
Ayowir's figure was suddenly blurry as she stood back from him. Hawk blinked, hoping his tears would not spill over. But when his vision cleared, the commander's face held no judgment.
"I know as well as you do what a sword means to a warrior," she said softly. "As I said, I won't return you to Tamnen as less a man than you were."
***
They rode into Salishok with barely two-score men accompanying them. Ayowir rode at the head of the column with Hawk at her side. When he remarked on the small force, she shrugged and said it was a necessary concession. And, she pointed out, if the Tamnese intended to take her captive, they would do it regardless of how many soldiers she brought with her.
What shocked him even more than their small party was the flourish of trumpets when the city gates opened. A crowd lined the street on either side, their voices raised in cheers and song. Hawk straightened in the saddle, his back stiff with surprise. His horse felt his unease and began prancing. Distracted, Hawk took the opportunity to gather himself as well as the reins. By the time his horse was under control, he had pushed away his emotions and stared straight ahead.
They took a circuitous route through the city, and everywhere they went, the street was lined with cheering citizens. Hawk began to wonder if anyone was left to run the shops or guard the city walls. There were plenty of children, to be sure, many of them throwing flower petals and dancing alongside the horses, but even so, the city away from their parade route must be completely empty.
"And you thought you weren't a war hero," Ayowir said to him, just loudly enough for him to hear over the shouting.
But I'm not, Hawk wanted to protest. Why did they cheer for him? He had been good at leading soldiers, but he had also been wounded badly enough to be captured. He had spent years living among their enemies. He had gotten very bad at hating those enemies over the past six years. And he had been replaced by competent commanders after his capture. It wasn't as if his return to Tamnen would mean anything. There would be no place in the new army for an old veteran with a bad leg.
He wanted to stare at the crowd, but he was also afraid to look at them. Why did they celebrate his return? What could he mean to them? The children couldn't understand what they were cheering for, of course, but their parents knew. Did they expect Hawk to take command of the army again and lead Tamnen to victory? Did they believe he would return Salishok to the prosperity it had known twenty year ago?
I am not the person you think I am, Hawk wanted to scream at them. I am not a miracle. I am not a hero.
He had to keep swallowing against a swell of anxiety. The longer they rode, the more afraid he grew. With this set up, the prince must be planning something elaborate once they arrived at the palace. What would he say? What would he demand of Hawk? And what would be the price for all this later?
It was every bit as bad as Hawk had feared. Prince Razem made a great show of his deep affection for Commander Jacin Hawk, proclaiming him a national hero and declaring that babes yet in their cradles would grow to adulthood on stories of his gallantry and daring. He made a great deal of noise about this unique moment in history, where Strid and Tamnen were able to put aside their long hostilities to allow the dying Duke Anyet Oler to return to his home. Commander Ayowir, who appeared to be the highest-ranking person Strid had sent, gave a short but eloquent speech about the value of having learned from each other during the six years they had spent together, and how she hoped this could signal the beginning of a new, international understanding. Hawk, standing at Prince Razem's left hand, heard someone to the other side of the prince snort at this. He glanced over, curious who could be willing to show his skepticism so brazenly in front of the prince and was left feeling as if he'd been punched in the gut when he recognized the unmistakable features of his former superior, Venra Burojan.
After a moment, he realized it couldn't be Venra--he was older, for one thing, even older than six years would have made him. And Venra had never worn his hair so short, nor had he carried a prominent godsmark on his temple. But this must be his brother, then, the Lord Burojan. Hawk couldn't remember his name, but he swallowed hard against a sudden tightness in his throat. If he were here instead of Venra, who should by rights be standing in that place of honor next to the prince...
Prince Razem cleared his throat and Hawk realized his attention had been drawn away from the ceremony. He made a mental check of his facial expression and was satisfied he had shown none of his shock and grief, but his inattentiveness must have been obvious. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, directing his gaze back to Commander Ayowir.
When she was finished, Razem glanced over at Hawk. "A few words from you would be good, Commander Hawk." His voice was gentle, but his gaze was implacable. Hawk realized it was not a request.
He cleared his throat and nodded once. What could he say that would be appropriate? What could he say at all?
Speak in Tamnese, he reminded himself. Don't panic. He had spoken nothing but Strid for so long now that his own native tongue felt odd on his lips. He stepped forward to the spot Ayowir had vacated, and was nearly bowled over by the wall of sound that crashed against him. The people cheered and whistled with such fervor he couldn't believe it was for him alone. Did they think this was a true peace?
He looked down into the first few ranks of faces. A woman
about his age was clutching a young boy to her, tears streaming down her cheeks. His gut gave another horrible lurch. Did she think that Hawk was only the first of many? Did she have a husband she thought would be coming home? But no power on earth could return the dead to life.
"My cherished countrymen," Hawk began, and his voice cracked. Fortunately it was masked by the ongoing cheers. He swallowed. What could he possibly say that would not be a deception? He lifted his hands, wishing they would shut up. He was not deserving of this accolade. He had done nothing but eat Strid food and read Strid books for six years.
"My cherished countrymen," he began again, when the applause had dropped away to a muted whisper of sound. "I cannot fully express all of my deep emotions at being among you again." Applause. Good. That seemed sincere enough, and grateful enough. He took a deep breath. "I am proud to have served Tamnen in the past, and I shall be proud to serve Tamnen in the future. You all honor me with your presence here." He looked over his shoulder and sketched a bow, keeping his voice raised. "Crown Prince Razem honors me with his presence here." His eyes found Lord Burojan's and he was momentarily breathless at the depths of the hatred in the man's eyes. "My Lord Burojan honors me, as does--" He glanced around again. "Baron Arkad. I am a humble man, my cherished people. I am not deserving of these honors. But I am deeply grateful for them. My heart soars at once again breathing the air of my beloved Tamnen."
His throat closed. That would have to be enough. A few words, Prince Razem had said. They would have to do. He stepped back from the railing of the balcony as the crowd cheered once again. Hawk's bad leg twinged and he stumbled. Just a little, but the vigilant Prince Razem noticed it. The prince caught him, both hands coming up to grasp Hawk's forearms, almost as if he were greeting him anew rather than supporting his weight. "Just a moment longer," Razem murmured, his voice loud enough for only Hawk to hear. He waited until Hawk had regained his balance and nodded his head slightly. Then he stepped back to the railing.
Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) Page 6
