That killing had brought Temahr’s own death; Mazakan himself had slain the alten and worn half his mummified sword hand about his neck for long years. That image stilled an instinctive burst of sympathetic feeling and rendered Rylin mute.
“Is your father a warrior?”
Rylin smiled to hear the suggestion. “My father is a sailmaker. My mother heads our family’s shipwright business.”
“So ships are in your blood.” Vannek eyed him as though he were a puzzle. “Why aren’t you a boat builder?”
“My mother saw I had some talent, and encouraged me. When she was younger, she reached the second rank.”
“So she was a warrior?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “I was encouraged. I worked hard. And here I am.”
“Here you are. Drinking with the grandchild of your greatest enemy.”
“These are strange times.” Rylin finished his goblet at last, then shook his head when Vannek pointed to the decanter. “I never thought a Naor would be taking notes from me on culture. Or maybe plying me to search for weaknesses.”
“A leader always looks for weakness,” Vannek admitted. “Given our history, I’d be foolish not to. But I find you Dendressi interesting. A Naor man would be bragging to the moon if his father had once held rank in an elite force like your Altenerai squires. Yet you tell me first about the boats your family builds. Your people have more space in their lives for things other than war. You’re not as soft as you’re made out to be, but your people aren’t as tough as ours overall.”
“That depends on how you define ‘tough,’” Rylin said.
“Take my warriors as an example. They know their work, don’t they?”
“I think they’ll do.”
“Hah! That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“I’ll compliment them if they win.”
Vannek laughed. Rylin was starting to sense the Naor general liked him in spite of his own instincts. There was still an amused glint in his eye as he pointed at Rylin. “Are the other Altenerai like you?”
“We’re all different.”
“But could I sit down with them? Like you and I are doing?”
“Some of them,” Rylin admitted, thinking of Kyrkenall and Elenai and possibly Enada, whom he knew mostly by reputation.
Vannek quaffed another drink. “I liked your queen’s speech to my people yesterday. I like her fire. She looks young and simple, but she’s clever, isn’t she?”
Rylin had never thought of Elenai as scheming, which is what he thought Vannek implied. “She’s kind,” Rylin said. “That might come off as young, or naïve, but she wants the best for the people she works with.”
“So she’s a leader.”
“Without question.” Rylin smiled, remembering how Elenai had so often given time to work with less seasoned squires.
“Has she always been a powerful mage?”
“I usually heard more about her sword work, until recently.”
“I’ve seen her practice both arts, and she’s formidable. Did she learn from N’lahr?”
“She didn’t meet Commander N’lahr until she’d been honing her craft for years. She studied under the great Asrahn, just like the commander. And me.”
“Asrahn Sword-Father was a legend among our people. He trained two or three generations of your most dangerous warriors. Did your queen really have him killed?”
Rylin hated to answer that. “Yes.”
“Why would she do that?”
It took a moment to condense his knowledge into a simple explanation. “It was more important to her to keep secrets than to protect her people. She was a lousy queen.”
“And she locked up N’lahr to keep these secrets,” Vannek said. He was certainly well informed.
“She did,” Rylin confirmed.
“I hear you tried to kill her.”
“I felt my blade touch her heart, but she didn’t die.”
The general’s eyes bored into his own, and then he sat back, impressed. “You speak the truth.”
“I’m sworn to do that.”
“I know about your oaths. In times of war, you’re free to lie.”
He spoke carefully, meeting Vannek’s eyes the while. “To the enemy. You’re our ally now, and you ought to know the strengths and weaknesses of our common foe.”
“You should have taken her head.”
That would have seemed even more brutal than his reluctant attack, but the general did have a point. “I will, next chance I get.”
“I believe you mean that,” Vannek said with approval. He glanced at the decanter, as if debating whether or not he wanted more, then must have decided against it, for he returned his attention to Rylin. “Tell me about N’lahr.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What pushes him? Fame? Power?” Vannek paused. “Love?” he added skeptically.
“He’s not that mysterious. He means what he says. He does what he thinks is best for the people he commands, and the people he’s protecting. I’m not sure if he thinks about anything except that. It’s simple, really.”
“Not so simple,” Vannek said. “You admire him.”
“Yes. And I think you do, too.”
“A lot of us have admired him for a long time. That may sound strange.”
“He’s the best at what he does, but that’s really about all he does. If you were hoping for some dark secret or weakness, I don’t know that there is one.”
“What about Varama?”
“That’s different.”
“She’s different. Why is she blue?”
Rylin smiled thinly. Her skin hue was the least important of all her characteristics. “The Gods slept with mortals in the old days, and sometimes that blood turns up in their descendants.”
“She beat my brother. Do you know that she shot one of her own rather than let her be taken prisoner?”
Rylin knew that all too well. “Yes.”
“You Altenerai are tougher than you look. I can see it in your eyes, when you say certain things. Did you really sneak into a meeting with my brother?”
“I did.”
“That was bold. Was I there?”
“You were.”
Vannek smiled slowly. “You’re more cunning than you seem. Elenai’s the same way. You are open, but wily at the same time. Is that something else you learned from Asrahn?”
It would take days to impress upon the general all that they had learned from Asrahn, and even then he wasn’t sure he could do the man justice. “He taught us to shoot straight and speak the truth.”
“I like that.”
“It’s an old saying.”
“Let me ask you about another saying. What’s a hastig?”
“Where did you hear that word?”
“It’s been shouted by your people when you fight.”
Rylin was surprised the general hadn’t ever had it explained before. “A hastig is someone who doesn’t know their birth mother.”
“And that’s an insult for your people?”
“Well, yes.”
“Because the lineage of both parents is important to you,” Vannek reasoned out. “That makes sense.”
“You shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Is there anything that surprises you about us?”
“In a good way?” Rylin asked with a smile.
Vannek laughed.
“I’m surprised you’re taking Anzat with you. It’s obvious he wants your command and will undercut your efforts wherever he can.”
“He’s not subtle, is he? He was readying to challenge me only a few nights ago. I spared him.”
“Why?”
“He got lucky.”
“Why are you taking him with you?”
“If I leave him here, he’ll be alone with the troops while we’re away, stabilizing his position. If I take him with me, I can keep an eye on him.”
“Suppose he distinguishes himself,” Rylin asked.
“It could happen.
He’s reputedly a bold warrior. But I’ll be in the front. The troops will see me in command, leading the charge. It will make it harder for him to challenge me.”
“Do you mean to convert him into an loyal retainer?”
Vannek snorted. “It’s possible. But I don’t expect him to change. He’ll never accept someone he sees as weak in command.”
“He’s blind if he sees you as weak.”
Vannek looked at him in a different way, as though he were uncertain of a comment that pleased him. “He doesn’t see that strength is more than size. He’s smart enough to think it through, but I don’t know that he ever will.”
“People can change.”
“Only a very few, in my experience,” Vannek said. “Most perform to type. Tell me. Is there anything else that surprises you about us?”
“I never thought I’d enjoy talking with a Naor general.”
Vannek’s smile was thin but approving. “Nicely turned. You’ve been good company. We shall have to do this again.” With that, he stood. “I’m sure you have arrangements of your own to make.”
Rylin climbed to his feet. “Much like you. I thank you for your hospitality, General. With your leave, I’ll run your men through more drills in the morning.”
“And then comes the day of battle.”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Vannek said, with surprising vehemence. Over the space of a few moments he had transformed from someone open and thoughtful into a certain warrior, eager for the kill. Seeing Rylin’s reaction, a smile spread slowly over the general’s face. “I surprised you again, didn’t I?”
“Not all surprises are bad ones,” he said.
For a brief, unguarded moment he saw something warm flash in the general’s eye, and then Vannek laughed, either at himself, or at the both of them. “Until the morning, then.”
He left the general in the tent, climbed into his saddle, and turned his mount toward the city, smiling wryly at the complexities of this new world. Asrahn had long ago instructed all of his squires to know the ground where they would fight. This time they had a landform map drawn by their enemy, and a scouting report delivered by a ghost. Strange times, indeed.
He arrived at the city gates and returned the salute of its guards, watching from on high. Only nominally damaged during the attack, the gates would be sealed every evening as they had since time immemorial, although the routine was almost comical, for great gaps loomed in the walls. Masons had labored through the day to repair the largest of them—new bricks could be seen rimming an immense opening to the left—but their work was not even a quarter complete. Had Rylin wished, he could easily have leapt the barrier.
The debris and bodies had been cleared from the long avenue into Darassus, but the paving itself remained in terrible condition. Many bricks were misplaced or crumbling, and even large areas were sunken in. The weight of the enormous Naor land treaders had wreaked havoc even upon this well-packed thoroughfare.
And so, too, had the fall of the statue of Darassa. The crown of her head shone amidst the rubble of road and market as Rylin rode forward, and he frowned at the thought of his involvement in the statue’s destruction. The great ruin divided the town square and nearly filled the main avenue for several blocks, so Rylin had to maneuver his horse along the building walkways to bypass. Some doubted it would even be possible to restore her, which made him heartsick, for the statue had loomed over the city since the time of the Grandmothers.
Darassans filled the streets, walking for the homes of friends and families, or returning from shops and wells. Children chased and called to one another.
Nearly all of them paused at Rylin’s passage. His uniform accorded him a measure of respect, but until recently, most had barely known his name. They might have stared or greeted him formally. Now, the children of Darassus paused in their play to regard him with shining eyes. Adults stopped in the midst of errands to raise hands in solemn salute.
He returned their greetings. He tried not to meet their eyes, where admiration and hope were paired. They believed without question that he would protect them, and didn’t seem to understand he might fail. It was strange that the better he knew himself, the less he felt others saw who he really was.
With relief he finally arrived at the wall to the inner city. Here he traded salutes with fellow veterans; here he rode toward the palace without scrutiny.
He had missed the evening meal by almost an hour, which suited him, for he’d thought he wanted no company. Yet when he found himself alone in the cavernous dining hall, its emptiness was a ponderous weight to dull the flavor of his lentils and fish. He finished his meal and returned to the duty desk to inquire about Varama’s whereabouts. The irony that she would once have been the last person he wished to see didn’t escape him.
He found her in the office of the Altenerai commander. She studied a weathered parchment spread on the desk before her. To one side sat an open wooden box Rylin knew well, for it contained the spare sapphires and Altenerai rings he had borrowed and returned. To the other sat a sheaf of paper, and an inkwell and stylus.
Varama looked up at him and blinked, as if it were work to change focus. Rylin noted an ink smudge along her forehead.
“I thought I’d find you in the workshops,” he said.
She frowned. “My workshops are a shambles.”
“I didn’t think the Naor made it that far.” He paused to honor Asrahn’s bust, beside the door, then dropped into one of the two seats across from the desk.
“The exalts tore it to pieces after we left. My people and our exalts are searching the auxiliary hall, but Synahla hid my notes and journals well.”
“Gods. I’m sorry.”
“I doubt they would have destroyed any of it. But I cannot currently waste mental energy in a search.”
“How are you?”
“Not very different since the last time you asked.”
Rylin realized he’d have to be more specific. “I don’t believe you’re actually feeling well.”
Varama pushed back from the desk. “I am well enough to function, and to aid our efforts. I suppose my emotional state might be better.”
“I’m worried about you,” he said. “I have been for some time.”
“You were right to fear for me. These are terrible times for many of us. I feared for you and it was good to find you whole.”
“Is there something I can do to help with whatever you’re doing here?”
“Not at this juncture.”
“What is it, exactly, that you’re working on?”
“Your description of linking the rings was inspiring. I’m searching through some of Herahn’s old texts for information on their construction to see if I can improve the protective radius they may offer to all ring-sworn on a battlefield. If I am successful, the whole of our troops might receive the same kind of benefit you and your exalt friend did while standing close together.”
It wouldn’t have occurred to him to extend the idea, primarily because he wouldn’t have known how to attempt it. “That sounds challenging.”
“It is. Especially since Herahn was smarter than I am.”
“That’s difficult to believe.”
An amused smile crossed her face. “I appreciate your high regard. Perhaps I should say that in addition to brilliance, Herahn possessed great power as a mage. His calculations and notes assume an easy familiarity with concepts that I must plod to follow because I have never practiced the sort of magic he wielded with ease. Herahn was a savant, and I suspect that he had access to the original hearthstone discovered by our queen. Leonara, I mean.”
“I knew who you meant.” It disappointed him that she had to confirm his comprehension of even simple topics sometimes.
She waved a hand at the piles of parchment on the desk. “My researches are made more difficult because I must refer to original documentation.”
“Aren’t the originals better?”
“No. Foreseeing the utility of referenc
e to his notebooks in years to come, later in life Herahn oversaw their copying into more legible script, to which he occasionally added explanatory notes. Unfortunately, Denaven allowed Synahla to borrow these books. Your friend Thelar believes she did so in an ultimately failed effort to improve the functionality of the ruby rings worn by the exalt auxiliary. But Herahn’s books have not yet been found. Thus I must work with the originals, absent his additional notes, and compounded by his cramped handwriting upon fragile pages.”
Rylin shared her indignation. “That’s frustrating.”
“It is beyond that,” Varama said sharply. “It is the height of arrogance to sweep into power and blithely disregard centuries of tradition because you’re too ignorant to understand why it’s there. I’m all for cutting to the chase when results are needed quickly, but when you risk the loss or destruction of items that helped build the state and safeguard its future because you can’t be bothered to keep records of where you took them…” Her voice trailed off.
Rylin wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Varama so angry.
She sighed. “I have digressed.”
He turned up his hands to show her it meant nothing. “Sometimes you have to let anger roll off of you. Not just to get a point across to other people, but to spill out the bad air. When you keep it in, it’s like staying inside a sickroom. You need to throw open the windows.”
“That is an apt analogy. I would do well to pay better heed to such advice. Sansyra tried to tell me as much.” Varama abruptly fell silent.
“She thought the world of you,” Rylin said gently. “I was sorry to learn that she’d died, and still haven’t heard the details.”
The answer came slowly. “I had ordered her to hold the gate. But she left it in the hands of Iressa and rode off to battle. To her death.”
“She probably thought she was needed elsewhere.”
“I told her what she must do,” Varama said truculently. “Why won’t people listen to me? She could be here, now. She would be wearing the khalat and…” The words had grown slower and slower, as though Varama were a clockwork toy that needed winding.
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