Hawk paid little attention to the words of greeting that passed between all of them until Tarkor said, "And now, for Commander Hawk! You are most welcome here. We will host a celebration in your honor, and tomorrow I myself will lead you on a tour of all the improvements we have made since your...unfortunate departure. Because you left so precipitously, you may not recognize some parts of the city. I am sure you will enjoy seeing how Rivarden has changed."
Hawk forced a smile. "I look forward to it, Governor Tarkor."
"Of course, of course. We are preparing rooms for everyone here in the mansion and I am pleased to be your host for the duration of your stay here."
Hawk let his thoughts drift away again, even as his feet followed Tarkor to his rooms. Life had once again moved on without him, and he felt adrift, nothing to anchor him. Sooner or later he had to come to rest, but he didn't have any idea when that might be.
Chapter 16
Razem stared at the dusty courier, overly aware of ridiculous details, such as the man's badly mended bootlace and the hole in his tunic sleeve. Odd, that he should notice such things at a time like this, he thought. He saw the courier shifting weight from one foot to the other, biting his lip, gaze faltering. It should not be like this. But then, how should it be? "Say that again," he said faintly.
The courier gulped and glanced to Razem's left, where Arisanat was not saying anything. Razem nearly snapped at the man to spit it out, but then his temper washed away again in a wave of grief.
"Your highness, I..." the courier fumbled, "I was sent by Captain Ysdra and Lady Riman of the Second Family to find you. I...it is...I am very grieved to report to you that your father, King Marsede, has been grievously wounded. There was a surprise attack in the capital. It is feared he may not survive."
I know my father's name, Razem wanted to say. It was absurd that the courier felt the need to clarify who his father was. Razem swallowed and looked down at the floor. He was not answering the courier, and he knew he must. But what could he say? He could threaten vengeance. He could demand answers. He could weep. But what would be the point of any of those things? The courier had no answers. Razem's eyes burned fiercely with their dryness. And as for vengeance—that had not gone so well when he swore vengeance on whoever had killed his sister. Why should he think it would go any differently for his father?
Behind him, Arisanat cleared his throat. That prompted Razem to open his mouth, if only to keep Arisanat from speaking. Gods knew what Arisanat would say, but if he said the king had got what was coming to him, Razem would draw his sword and slay him here and now.
"Tell me everything you know about what happened," Razem instructed the courier. His voice was painfully calm. He felt as if every word cut his mouth. But he didn't know what else to say.
The courier bowed. "I did not witness the attack, your highness. I was told that someone attacked the king as he was visiting the Hallowed City where your venerated mother lies. He had few attendants with him, and most of them were slain in the attack. All four of the attackers were slain. At least one of them was from the Long Coast, but I heard another was Ranarri. There is much confusion. No one has said the Strid are to blame, your highness."
He paused, perhaps fearing Razem's temper, but Razem gestured for him to continue.
"In fact, the reports are that the Ranarri gave information concerning a family in Meekin. Perslyn, it was, and he named them as being involved in the attack. Captain Ysdra dispatched soldiers to Meekin at once, but of course there was no time for them to report on it before we were sent to you.
"There is little else to tell, my lord. Your father was badly wounded, and there is fear the blade was poisoned. He has fallen into a delirium. I was dispatched immediately, along with a dozen others, to seek you and relay this news to you."
Razem stirred. "Where are the others? Were you set upon as well?"
"No, my lord. We were sent by different routes to be certain the news reached you. It was uncertain whether you would still be in Salishok, or by what route you might be returning to Tamnen City."
"Gods blind us for fools," Arisanat exclaimed. "Was the entire prisoner exchange an elaborate ruse to lure us out of the city and away from your father?"
Razem frowned, glancing away from his cousin. It seemed a valid question, except that the exchange had taken place, and the Strid Commander had seemed genuinely grateful to have her uncle back. "What difference would my presence have made in the capital?" he asked. "I could not have saved my father from attack. He and I rarely visited my mother's grave together. My father's grief was a thing private to him." He paused. For that matter, his father's grief for Azmei had been private as well. His father, for all that Razem loved him, had rarely showed his emotions.
"And yet here we are, a fortnight's journey and more from where your father has been struck down!" Arisanat blustered. "He could even now be dead!"
Razem whirled on him. "Do not say that," he hissed, advancing on his cousin so suddenly that Arisanat tripped over his own feet backing away. Arisanat caught himself on a side table, opening his mouth to speak, but Razem had turned away again already, spurred into action. His cousin could wait. He strode to the door and jerked it open, startling the guard who stood outside.
"Kho!" he snapped. "Someone go for General Kho!"
When the general appeared in the door, Razem beckoned him in. "I will need a company of soldiers. Your best, for I must not be delayed in any way. We will ride at once back to Tamnen City—you, my cousin, and I. As for Hawk, I have an errand for him."
"Razem—" Arisanat began, but the prince didn't allow him to continue.
"You will accompany me, Aris. We can trust Hawk to carry out the mission I assign him, whether you like him or not." He glared at Arisanat, watching the gold flecks in his cousin's eyes flash as they seemed to bubble like liquid gold. Temper in the high houses of Tamnen always showed itself, however they attempted to mask it.
"It will be as you command, Razem."
"Good." Razem turned back to Kho, who had stuck his head out the door to issue orders. Kho tensed under Razem's hand on his shoulder, but only looked over as the prince urged him into the hall and several steps away from the guard. Razem lowered his voice. "Kho, my father has been badly wounded in an attack. I must go to him. There must be a member of the ruling family hale and visible in the capital city."
Kho's expression crumpled for a moment and then he nodded. "Well said, your highness. I have already begun arranging for your escort. Will you wait until morning, or ride through the night?"
"First light, Emran. I cannot bear the thought of trying to rest while my father needs me, but we have obligations here first." Razem's throat tightened as he spoke, but he managed to get the words out. "We must not slight Governor Tarkor after he has gone to so much trouble over the welcoming feast."
"Very good, Prince Razem. I will see that the men are ready to leave at dawn."
Razem gripped Kho's shoulder for a moment before releasing him. He watched the general stride away, once again issuing orders to his men. Now for Hawk.
Razem could hardly bear the thought of explaining everything to him. Could he send the courier? But no, the man had clearly been on his last legs. He would collapse soon, as his horse had already done. He had earned his rest. Gods may weep. Razem would have to do it himself.
He strode back to the sideboard, where he poured himself a stiff drink and slammed it back in a single gulp. Then he turned and went to find Hawk.
The commander was in the rooftop garden of the Governor's Mansion. Razem had to ask four guards before he learned even that much, biting the words out more viciously with each guard. His footsteps rang hard on the stone passages. Gods help him, but his temper was rising up again, just as it had so often over the past three years. He was tired of being angry! But how could he help it, when everything had gone wrong since Venra died?
He took the narrow stone steps up to the rooftop two at a time, his breath coming in explosive bursts.
He wanted to find something or someone to hit. When he reached the top and came out into the sunlight once again, however, he paused and stared around him.
Everywhere he looked was a profusion of color. Roses rioted in red and gold, interspersed with orange and burgundy lilies. Date palms provided shade while fountains rippled and songbirds trilled. Razem's breathing slowed. Rivarden, the Desert Jewel. Despite his grief and anger, the beauty was a balm.
He found Hawk standing at the waist-high outer wall, looking down. Rivarden and the Sky Lake reservoir made a pretty picture from so far up. Razem wondered how pretty the streets and alleys of the city actually were. He cleared his throat.
Hawk turned, his movements relaxed enough that Razem knew the man must have heard him coming. Of course he did, you imbecile. You were stamping about like a toddling boy in a tantrum. He gave himself a mental shake.
"Highness, how may I be of service?"
Razem swallowed and wished he'd thought to bring a jar of wine with him. He licked his lips and said, "Hawk, my father has been attacked. It is unknown if even now he may be dead. I must return to Tamnen City."
The commander's eyes widened as Razem spoke, his mouth dropping open. "Highness—"
Razem held up a hand. He wanted to get this all out. "It was an assassination, Hawk. Not content with stealing my sister from me, our enemies have conspired to take my father as well. I will not stand for it. But I must have your help."
Hawk dropped to his knees. "Anything, highness. Just command me." He tilted his head back, staring up at Razem with an expression so warm Razem was certain he didn't deserve it. Why did this war hero care about a prince whose family could barely keep the kingdom under their control? Razem coughed to cover his emotion.
"Forgive me, Prince Razem. May I offer you drink? I brought wine with me." Still on his knees, Hawk turned to a bundle Razem hadn't seen before.
"Gods, yes," Razem said, and dropped to sit on one of the stone benches. "My thanks."
"I am grieved for your father." Hawk poured a cup of wine and held it out. "Tell me what I can do."
Razem forced himself to take only a sip of wine rather than draining the cup. "Go to Meekin."
Hawk stared at him blankly. Razem took another sip of wine.
"The courier who brought word of the attack on my father also said that the Perslyn family in Meekin was possibly involved in or behind the attack. Soldiers were dispatched from Tamnen City, but I know you, Hawk. I trust you. I want you to find the truth behind the attack. Start in Meekin. If you find nothing there, come to Tamnen City. I will make sure you are not wanting for coin."
Hawk nodded. "As you command, your highness. Shall I leave today?"
"Tomorrow." Razem drained his cup. "Gods help us, we still have a welcoming feast to get through tonight." He barked an unhappy laugh. "And you'll need time to gather your provisions. See General Kho about the details. He'll give you anything you need."
He knew Hawk wouldn't like that, but their little feud could be damned. Razem trusted both of them, and whatever problem they had with each other, they could get over it to serve him now. He turned a sharp gaze on Hawk, who lowered his head.
"As you wish, highness."
***
Hawk couldn't blame Governor Tarkor for the poor turnout at the celebration. The crown official had done everything in his power to make Hawk's welcoming ceremony more elaborate even than the one in Salishok. It was just that the people of Rivarden were tired of war.
Hawk couldn't blame the people of Rivarden. He was tired of war, too.
He sat in splendor at Prince Razem's left hand, Governor Tarkor to his left. Thankfully, Hawk was separated from Lord Burojan, who was on Razem's right. The prince sat in morose silence, his attention focused on his meal. Hawk didn't begrudge Burojan the position of honor. He was just glad he didn't have to sit next to the man.
"I really don't understand why so few have come," Tarkor said, leaning towards Hawk. "The people of this city love you, as I am certain you must know. You are honestly more of a hero to them than anyone." He leaned closer and pitched his voice to a whisper. "And certainly you should be seated at the right, but—"
Hawk shook his head. "There's no need for that, Governor. You shouldn't trouble yourself. You have been more than welcoming, and I am overjoyed to be home."
Tarkor was a pale, skinny man with a large nose and thin lips, which were pursed. His brows drew together in genuine distress. "But Commander Hawk, I had such hopes for your return. There were to have been songs and dancing and…" He trailed off and shrugged. "I had certainly planned something better than this."
Hawk smiled and looked out at the scant three score of people seated at the feast tables. "Governor Tarkor, nothing you could have planned would soothe my soul as much as being in Rivarden. I only wish my visit were not being cut short by the grave news from the capital."
Tarkor's brow smoothed, but his lips were still pursed.
"Truly, Governor," Hawk said. "Your welcome has been most expressive."
It was the truth. Tarkor had sent a tailor to Hawk's rooms to make certain he had clean, luxurious clothes to wear. There had been a bottle of wine open in Hawk's rooms beforehand, along with a bowl of fruit, and the tailor had been followed by a group of servants bearing hot water for him to bathe. It had been, on balance, a better welcome than he'd had in Salishok.
Tarkor gave Hawk a gratified smile and leaned back in his seat as the next course was served.
There were instrumentalists playing while they ate. After the meal, the singing began. There was a short set of ballads and laments, but several of the songs were traditional love songs. Hawk thought those sounded more heartfelt than the lament for his capture.
"Governor Tarkor, tell me how Rivarden has fared since my capture," Hawk said, looking over at the man. "How are the people? Are there needs to be met?"
The man sighed. "Ah, there are always needs to be met, Commander. But I do the best I can with the resources given me. The king is generous, of course, and I think there are none whose need is desperate."
Hawk nodded. "Are there many orphans?"
"Orphans, widows, crippled…" Tarkor shrugged. "We make provision for them, as we may. There are houses where the orphans may live, and meals served to the widows and crippled."
"Many of them?" Hawk pressed.
"Always too many," Tarkor said. "But any number of them is too many. No offense, Commander. You know better than anyone how Rivarden has supported the war. But it is never easy on its supporters."
"Less easy on its supporters than on its opponents, I think," Hawk agreed. "Is there anything that could be done for them if I speak to the prince?"
Tarkor considered for several moments. Hawk could see that Lord Burojan was fidgeting. He didn't seem to be actively eavesdropping on the conversation, but he was definitely annoyed at being left out of it. "I think, Commander, that the mere fact you ask this question proves that you believe the prince will do something."
Hawk had to content himself with that for the moment. For now, he settled back into his chair, focusing all his attention on the singers.
After the singing was done, Tarkor gave a short speech welcoming the prince to the city and Hawk back home. His tone was thoughtful, which Hawk was quickly coming to realize was characteristic of the administrator. At least, Hawk thought, Rivarden had been in capable hands since the Push. They had had many obstacles to overcome, but Tarkor seemed to take his duties seriously.
The prince gave a short, grave speech. Hawk wondered what changes the prince had made in his speech. He said nothing of the attack on his father. He spoke only of the grave injury Rivarden had taken during the war and his admiration for the city at their determination in rebuilding.
Hawk had to stand after Razem's speech to offer his own remarks of thanks. He should have anticipated this and prepared. The speech in Salishok had been something of a surprise, but he had no such excuse here. All the same, it hadn't occurred to him.
He stood in his place, looking down at all the upturned faces. Most wore varying degrees of curiosity, some resentment, some hope, some boredom. Hawk didn't recognize many of them, though there were a few merchants he remembered seeing before the Push. Among the soldiers, there were none he recognized, but that didn't surprise him; too many of his companions had died in the Push, and of those who had survived, many had been rendered unable to continue in their duties.
After a moment, the restless shifting and quiet coughs reminded Hawk that he had been staring at them in silence when he was supposed to be speaking. He cleared his throat.
"I am not a man for speeches," he said. "I was always better at action. I feel joy at being here among you again. I am home." He paused for the brief, polite applause. He tried to smile, but the subdued mood was infecting him. "I thank you for pausing tonight to greet me. I am grateful for the chance to reacquaint myself with this jewel Rivarden, the city of my heart."
He bowed and retreated to his seat. The applause felt more genuine this time, though Hawk wasn't certain if it was for the content of his message or merely that it was over.
"That was pretty," Burojan remarked, his tone biting. "But a few pretty words will not redeem you, Hawk."
"Oh, my Lord Burojan—" Tarkor began, but Hawk waved him to silence.
"Then it is well I intend to follow them with action." He bowed deeply to the prince, and then to Burojan. That bow he made only as sharp and shallow a bow as etiquette demanded. "Prince Razem. Lord Burojan." He made his next bow, to Tarkor, no deeper but longer. "Governor. I will retire to my rooms for the night. I thank you for your generous hospitality."
Tarkor's slender hands were clasped in front of him as if he were restraining himself from reaching out to them, but he merely nodded. "Good night, Commander Hawk."
As Hawk turned to go, he saw Emran looking hard at him. He chose to ignore it. Tomorrow would bring what it brought. Tonight he was going to sleep.
Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) Page 19
