"Lord Belnat, I trust you will put up no resistance."
When Captain Rone strode forward, another dozen men behind him, and put Belnat and Arisanat in shackles, Azmei sighed and let her shoulders relax. Hawk limped up next to her.
"Azmei, I promised Emran Kho that I would look for his Captain Ysdra. He was last seen here, when they attempted to arrest your cousin."
Azmei nodded tiredly. "I will come with you." He opened his mouth, whether to thank her or protest, she didn't know, but he closed it again without speaking and nodded.
Hawk went in first, then Azmei, a dozen soldiers shadowing them. The front hall was empty, so they pressed further into the house. In the dining hall, a man she recognized as Arisanat's chamberlain leapt at Hawk. It couldn't have been any more than a suicide; Hawk's sword flashed out and sliced the man's throat. Only afterwards did they see the man had been unarmed. Lady Talt's body was sprawled under the table. She had been dead at least a day.
They found Ysdra next to the fireplace in the kitchens. He was alive, and there was a surprisingly small amount of blood on his uniform. He didn't wake when Hawk knelt next to him and rested two fingers against his neck. His skin was beaded with sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead.
"His pulse is thready and fast," Hawk murmured. "Fever's set in. The wound may not have gone bad yet, but..." He pressed his fingers against Ysdra's stomach and the man groaned faintly. "His stomach's hard and swollen. That's not a good sign."
He frowned down at Ysdra's stomach, lips working as if he were chewing the inside of them. Finally he shook his head. "Better if we don't wake him yet, I guess. He's been here three days, and if it hasn't killed him yet, he'll probably wait until a healer gets here."
Azmei swallowed. His voice sounded hopeful, as if he thought Ysdra could hear him. His eyes, meeting hers, were grim.
She nodded. "The king would have only the best for Captain Ysdra," she said aloud. "Soldier! Fetch a healer!"
"We should report to your brother," Hawk said.
"You can't leave Ysdra to make the report," she said, "and I will not leave without you. So we will wait until the healer arrives." She leaned down and stroked the man's hot forehead. "I will find some cool water to wash his face."
He wouldn't live, she thought. Gut wounds were bad, and there were too many ways for them to fester. The best they could hope for was to ease his pain and give him a quick death. But at least she would make certain the man was in the palace and knew his king loved him when he died.
Chapter 31
Razem had never realized how uncomfortable his father's throne was. He braced his elbows on the elaborate gold arms and steepled his fingers together as he surveyed the room. He had gathered as many members of the Nine Families as he could find inside the palace. He would not have it said he dealt with the traitors in secret. There would be discontent after this; there always was after the king had to deal harshly with his council—or after the council forced the king's hand. But he would do whatever he could to mitigate it.
Belnat looked as though he were choking on regret. Razem could well imagine he were. To be tested so sorely while he was newly come to his headship—Belnat had made a poor decision, and would not be remembered kindly in his family histories. Razem let his gaze move on. Arisanat—
Arisanat mostly looked tired.
There was no rage or hatred in his eyes as he looked up at Razem. There was, he fancied, some despair, and perhaps some relief. How could one man feel so many things? Then again, Razem felt much of those same emotions. He sighed.
"I am deeply disappointed," he said finally. "Lord Belnat, you have acted foolishly. Many transgressions may be forgiven. Treason, however, may not. You will await your trials in our dungeon."
"Trial?" Belnat blurted.
Razem arched an eyebrow. "Yes, Lord Belnat. You will be given a fair trial. We will permit you to call witnesses to your defense, if you can think of any that will truly aid your case. There has been a great deal too much killing already. I will not summarily put a man to death without a trial first."
Razem gestured and the guards jerked the chains that bound him. Belnat was conveyed out of the audience chamber without further comment.
"As for you, Arisanat..." Razem shook his head, staring at the face he had loved and looked up to for so long, the face that looked so much like his own, so much like Venra's. "What shall I do with the cousin who so generously and lovingly guarded me in my youth?" he asked sadly. "What shall I do to reconcile that man with the man who tried to kill me and my sister, who did kill my father?"
Arisanat looked calmly back at him. Those gold-flecked brown eyes were clear of madness or hatred, though there was plenty of grief. "You will kill him, Razem. It is what you must do." His voice was steady. "Just as I did what I must."
Razem stared at him, aching to assault him with a barrage of questions. But how many questions would it take to cut to the heart of this? Arisanat could never make him understand how he could betray him, and that was the only thing Razem really wanted to know.
Arisanat's shoulders heaved as he sighed. "Life without Venra was...not. He was so much cleverer than I. He would have had a solution." He shook his head. "I acted as I did to avenge Venra, but also to secure a greater inheritance for my son." He smiled bleakly at Razem. "The quarry is flooding. Variden will have nothing." He bowed his head. "Not even, now, a father."
Razem bowed his head as well. He heard the shuffling of feet as one of the spectators shifted. Near the back of the chamber, someone coughed. When he looked up again, a ray of sunshine angling in through a stained glass window caught his eye. Motes of dust danced and wavered in that ray, as they would tomorrow and the next day. What did sunlight care for kings?
"Yes," Razem said finally. "I will have to execute you. But I will take Variden into my household and raise him with all the love you showed me as a boy. I will tell him stories of his uncle and will help him come to terms with being the son of a traitor."
"He knew nothing of my plans," Arisanat said. "He's just a boy. Be kind to him, Razem." Razem nodded. "Nor did my sister. I told only Venra—only Venra's grave." His calm exterior crumbled and a sob escaped. "I am sorry, Razem. But Venra should have lived."
"He should have," Razem agreed. "But so should my father." He gestured, and the remaining guards led his weeping cousin away. He would be housed in a room in the tower, inaccessible but full of sunlight and fresh air, because Razem wanted to give his cousin that much comfort until his death.
When Arisanat was gone, the assembled crowd was ushered out. Razem waited until the room was nearly empty before he slumped and buried his face in his hands. The heavy double doors boomed shut, enclosing him with his most trusted friends.
Small, strong hands rested on his shoulder. "You've had so much to deal with alone," Azmei whispered. "Razem, I'm so sorry."
He sighed and lifted his head. "I'm not alone now, am I?" He managed a smile for her, though he knew it wasn't very convincing. "Let's have a meal sent to my private chambers. I will have everyone here with me."
When the meal was spread, he glanced around at the group before offering a generic toast to allies and friends. Everyone drank to that, though Lady Tarra looked uncertain whether she truly belonged. Razem sipped his wine, considering. He would have to do something about her, but he still didn't know what. She could have made herself queen, but she'd given it up for loyalty to him. That deserved a reward. But what reward would be best? Would she agree to be queen if he offered it to her honestly? Did he want her to be his queen? Would that be the wisest alliance for him to make, or should he wait to see if he could open negotiations with Strid?
He shook his head. "Emran."
Kho looked away from his murmured conversation with Hawk. "Majesty?"
"I will need you to pick your most loyal soldiers to root out the rest of the rebels. I cannot have the disloyal members of the city guard still in positions of authority. For that matter, there will have to be a cha
nge in how we have done things. I do not like that Arisanat was able to exploit the rivalry between the city guard and the palace. There should be rotations—every man or woman will be a member of the royal guard, and they will serve the king in the palace and in the city both. There will be no division, because there will be only one guard."
Kho nodded. "A wise solution. I fear we'll be a bit thin for a while."
Razem took a long breath. His next idea might not be a popular one, at least outside of this room. "I want you to find the most troublesome of them and remove them from the guard entirely. Keep them separate from one another and assign them to units posted in the Kreyden. Perhaps it is time Dinnsan was rebuilt. We will need a large number of soldiers there to accomplish it."
Kho nodded again, offering no opinion.
"As for the merchants guild..." Razem shook his head. "I will think on that. They are neither nobility nor military, but civilian citizens. We must deal carefully but fairly with them. I will consider and welcome advice on that matter—tomorrow."
Kho sipped his wine and nodded again.
"How is Captain Ysdra?"
Kho set his wine glass down and looked away. "It...doesn't look good for him, majesty. The healers say they'll know more if he lives through the night."
Razem rubbed his eyes. "I will visit him before I sleep. He did us great service."
"Thank you," Kho whispered.
A somber silence fell over the group. Razem almost regretted having asked about Ysdra, though he knew it was proper, and he'd hoped...well, he'd hoped for some good news. Dinner was nearly finished when Tarra spoke.
"Your majesty, what about me?"
Razem looked at her, uncomprehending, for several seconds. "You are free, Lady Tarra," he said finally. What about her? What would he do to thank her? Perhaps Azmei would have some idea. "I give you my condolences for your mother's death."
When dinner was finished, five of them stayed around the fire, drinking mulled wine and staring into the shadows. Razem wondered if Hawk would ever feel comfortable talking about his years in Strid. He wondered if he had the right to ask the man. Perhaps if he assured Hawk that he earnestly desired peace, Hawk would be willing to help.
Yarrax was sitting to Azmei's right, furthest from the rest of them and a little apart even from Azmei. Razem had noticed during dinner that the young man didn't seem to like being touched. He didn't meet people's eyes or speak very often, though he seemed to be, for the most part, listening to the conversation around him. He occasionally blanked and stared into space as if he were talking to the dragons. Xellax and Rexiel were resting on the tower in the last of the fading light of day. The other dragons had flown away, though Yarrax had assured Razem they weren't going far.
Ilzi spent a lot of time darting glances at Yarrax when she didn't think anyone was watching. He couldn't be much above a year or two older than she, and while he looked a bit underfed, he wasn't bad looking. He supposed it was natural for her to look at someone with admiration. Of course, he also hadn't missed the way Hawk darted those same sort of glances at Azmei from time to time.
He cleared his throat. "Yarrax, you said the dragons had a dire message for us. Now that we have dealt with the insurrection, may we hear it?"
Yarrax jerked back to attention. He stared at Razem for a moment, then flickered a glance at Azmei and licked his lips. "The main of it is this, your majesty: The gods are waking, and they are not happy."
Razem felt as if the palace trembled, but this time he knew it wasn't a dragon landing. The gods were waking. Why now, after a sleep of centuries? Why would the dragons care? And—
"That's what you meant," Ilzi said, her voice soft. She was looking at Azmei. Azmei nodded. Clearly she had heard the message already.
"What—well, what do they—the dragons—want us to do about it?" Razem asked. He wondered if he sounded as young and helpless as he suddenly felt.
"They say Vistaren must be told," Azmei said. "It was my half of the bargain, if they agreed to help you."
"Why Vistaren?" Razem asked.
"I don't know," Yarrax put in. "Xellax will be able to discern more when we meet him."
Razem sat back in his chair, staring at his sister in consternation. "So...you're leaving me again, just after I got you back. You're going to Amethir."
Azmei nodded. It was little balm that she looked unhappy about it.
"Are you going to marry him?" he asked softly. Yarrax and Hawk both startled at the question, but Hawk's surprise faded into unhappy acceptance, while Yarrax just kept staring at Azmei.
She looked crossly at her brother. "I'll ford that stream when I reach it."
Gods, what a mess. Razem nodded slowly, thinking. "You can't go alone," he said after a moment.
"I'll go with her," Hawk blurted. He turned to face Azmei directly. "I'll go with you. If you'll allow me."
Azmei didn't look as happy about it as Razem had expected. Perhaps she realized it would further complicate things. But she smiled at Hawk. "I wouldn't ask it of you," she said softly. "But...it pleases me that you wish to."
Razem pretended not to notice as Hawk took her hand. "So it is settled. I will send word to Destar Thorne. The Victorious took no damage in the fighting; they were at sea until we'd already retaken the docks." He grinned briefly. "Thorne was furious that he missed it."
Azmei laughed, though it sounded choked. "Thank you," she said.
"Will you come back, as you are able?" Razem asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear her answer. But she smiled, and it looked genuine.
"As I am able," she said. Then she glanced at Hawk and amended, "As we are able."
Epilogue
In the scrubby shale lands south of the Shokanda River delta, a cave had been formed on the banks of one of the river's nameless tributaries. Any number of things washed up on the rocky shore in front of the cave, from fishing nets to rusted-out buckets to driftwood to seaglass. A man lived in the cave, scratching out what living he could gather from the river's bounty.
People from the nearby village called him crazy, but they also took things to him to be mended, if no one else could manage it. He cobbled together equipment for fishing and the meager farming that was done, and in return, the villagers gave him bread and salt fish.
The man thought of himself only as The Scavenger, and he spent his days muttering prayers to the maker god while he used glue rendered from fish to stick things together. He did not expect to get any answer from the sleeping god; it was just a habit he'd formed, mostly to hear a human voice, even if it was his own.
One night, when The Scavenger was at least five decades old, he slept more deeply and dreamed more vividly than he could remember ever doing. When he woke, he remembered little of his dreams, but he knew he had a task.
He gathered a kit of his making supplies and collected every last bit of seaglass he owned. One piece in particular was nearly round and a gorgeous wintry blue-white. He'd always liked it, and he'd always wanted to use it in something, but he'd never found any project worthy of it.
"Find her," he mumbled to himself, repeating the command that had boomed through his mind at the moment of his waking. "Find her. Fix her."
The Scavenger struck out along the shore, the voice of his maker god echoing in his head.
About the Author
Stephanie A. Cain writes epic and urban fantasy for fun, and a history blog for work. She lives in Indiana, where she works at a museum and is writing the next book in the Storms in Amethir series. She enjoys hiking, reading, birdwatching, and general geekery. She has three cats, which she is well aware puts her firmly in crazy cat lady territory, and way more dice and painted miniatures than she needs. She can be found online at www.stephaniecainonline.com, on Twitter @stephanie_cain, and on Facebook.
Other books in the Storms in Amethir series include Stormsinger and Stormshadow. Stephanie has also written an unrelated epic fantasy novella Sow the Wind.
Author's Note
Thanks fo
r reading my novel. If you enjoyed this, would you please take a moment to leave a review of my book at Amazon or Goodreads? Writing just two or three honest sentences is one of the best things you can do to support any author.
Thanks!
Stephanie
Acknowledgements
I must offer my thanks first and foremost to Jessica Kemery Miller, who provided insight and early critiques, particularly on the character of Yarro. My thanks go also to my incomparable critique partners: Laura VanArendonk Baugh, J. Decker Payne, and Jillian Storm. Their input has been invaluable through the process of writing and revising this novel. Their willingness to accept panicked text messages and phone calls from me when I said, "I can't do this!" was nothing short of saintly, and I am incredibly grateful at how many times I was talked out of ditching this novel.
This novel was finished thanks to the support I received from my fellows at the Twitter Monthly Writing Challenge, particularly Kristy Acevedo, who started the challenge, Christina Ochs, Heather Jackson, Nina Lake, Amelia Lindsay, Sydney Strand, Michael Fedor, Claudia Blanton, Ginny Frey, and Natalie K. Never underestimate the power of finding your tribe on social media!
My ever-supportive parents gave me a love of words and story-telling. Dacia Daniel sent me a message on Facebook after she read Stormshadow, and a printout has been taped to the wall by my desk ever since. My cats Eowyn, Strider, and Eustace Clarence Scrubb were always more than willing to chew up manuscript pages or sit on my keyboard.
Thanks also to my fellow IndyScribes, who constantly challenge me to be a better writer. I am also grateful to the talented Nicole Cardiff, who created amazing cover art for this novel.
And most of all, I am grateful for my readers. You enable me to keep telling stories that are close to my heart, and I would love to hear from you. Please send me an email or Tweet at me.
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