A King's Bargain

by J. D. L. Rosell

  Tal rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "I suppose you're right."

  Her gaze slid over to him, eyes narrowed. "You mean it?"

  He sighed. "Wren, if anyone knows how impossible it is to stop someone from doing what they mean to, it's me. Far better to focus on how to keep you alive."

  Garin looked from Wren to Tal and back, then swallowed visibly. "Then I'm coming, too," he said in a small voice.

  Tal couldn't bring himself to look at him, wishing his chest didn't warm with pride at the youth's declaration. "If you must. But I think it's unwise."

  "But you just said—"

  "I can't stop you, true. But if you go, you risk becoming fully possessed by the Night."

  Defiance was slowly replacing the fear in Garin's eyes. "I'm going, no matter what you think. And I think there's a way that I can help."

  Tal raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

  Garin sucked in a shaky breath before speaking. "The Extinguished was counting on possessing me before, right? He planned to use me to get at Kaleras and did. If I show up at the ruins, he might try to use me again."

  "Bait." Tal frowned. "I don't love the idea if I'm honest. It's a great risk for little reward."

  "But I can do more," the youth hurried on. "I should have told you before, but… I can command the Nightkin."

  Tal found himself sharing a look of disbelief with Aelyn.

  "Command them?" Aelyn mocked. "Only Yuldor and his warlocks can do that."

  "But I can — I've done it twice. When the tangle of quetzals had me surrounded, a voice whispered in my head, insisting that I let it help. So I did. Then I cried out something in a language I couldn't understand, and the quetzals scattered."

  Tal bowed his head, the youth's words stirring buried thoughts. "Go on," he murmured.

  "And that night in the courtyard, with the ghouls. I drew some of them away and ran down the castle halls, but I knew they were going to catch me. So I turned and faced them and commanded them to die — only I shouted it in some tongue I didn't recognize. And then they… burst."

  Tal winced, but Wren was staring at Garin, mouth open and eyes wide. The fascinations of youth, he lamented.

  "Convenient for you to only now tell us these hidden powers," Aelyn said with a cruel smile. "Either you were a liar then, or you're a liar now."

  "I'm not a liar!" Garin said hotly, then winced. "Well, not now."

  Tal moved closer to Garin and put a hand on his shoulder. "I believe you, lad. I understand why you hid the truth; those who are Night-touched are often killed without question. But that won't happen here."

  He glanced back at Aelyn as he said the last, and though the bronze in his eyes swirled, the mage only smirked back.

  "Why do you believe me?"

  Tal looked back at Garin, and the youth met his eyes with a mixture of confusion and hope.

  In the end, he thought, every truth is revealed, and every lie unveiled.

  "Not long before I moved to Hunt's Hollow, I went into the East."

  "You went into the East?" Garin and Wren exchanged a skeptical look, while Aelyn's brow furrowed.

  "Yes. I ventured beyond the Fringes, beyond the mountains, and crossed the borders of the Empire of the Rising Sun. There, I sought a derelict tower, a place where I believed something of great value lay: secrets that Yuldor so feared, he'd killed all of the sorcerers who had resided there, though they had been his loyal subjects."

  "This isn't in your songs." Wren frowned at him. "Why would my father not have sung about this?"

  "Because I never told Falcon about it. I hadn't seen him until our arrival here in Halenhol, and we had more pressing concerns than writing new songs." Tal sighed. "Fortunately, my reticence has kept this hidden from the Prince of Devils for at least a little while longer."

  He hoped that was true. But he remembered the conversation under the stars that he'd had with the man he'd thought was Falcon, two bottles of Jakadi wine drained between them, and he knew he couldn't account for every word spoken. Silence, Solemnity, and Serenity, he thought. If you Whispering Gods watch over us, you'll have done what you do best and kept my tongue still.

  "As I was saying — I entered this desecrated tower, and at great cost, I recovered the tome that had drawn Yuldor's ire. The old book was, however, written in the Eastern dialect of the Worldtongue, what we call the Darktongue. While similar in structure to the Reach dialect, the words differ enough that I couldn't read them at first. Thus, I had to translate it."

  "And so you painstakingly translated it for five years when you could have come to me and been done with the task in a month," Aelyn said, eyes swirling, lips twisting.

  Tal met his gaze. "I did."

  They matched stares for a long moment before the mage looked aside with disgust. "Secrets," Aelyn muttered. "I wonder, do you keep them close from discretion or habit?"

  "Anything worthy of being called a secret should be kept hidden until it cannot. And that goes double for secrets close to the heart." Tal couldn't help a mocking smile even as he said it.

  Garin opened his mouth but seemed only to speak reluctantly. "What does this book have to do with me?"

  "Its author wrote of people who had experienced things very similar to what you described, Garin. Of hearing a voice — what she called a Singer — and a Song composed of all the sounds of the World. Of magic that sprang into people from Bloodlines devoid of natural sorcery."

  The youth seemed to slump further with every word, like Tal were stacking each one of them, heavy as iron ingots, on his shoulders. "Did this happen because I took the cursed pendant?"

  "Honestly? I don't know. It seems possible, especially since this Singer appears to assist the Extinguished." Tal closed the gap between them to put a hand on his shoulder. "But Garin — it was our fault that you entered the Ruins of Erlodan at all. Well, mostly the wizard's fault, but I'll take a small share of the blame."

  "Until you can shirk it again," Aelyn commented.

  Tal's smile was brief, especially as Garin's expression grew yet more forlorn. "It's also possible this was always with you but was only brought out by the pendant. The tome spoke of the Song coming to people from all walks of life without provocation. But any way you slice it, lad, this wasn't your fault."

  "If you say so."

  "Stop that." Wren had stepped forward and stood mere inches from Garin, glaring at him. "You can't feel sorry for yourself now. My father needs to be aid — because the World knows Falcon Sunstring won't save himself."

  Garin opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. He resorted to a nod.

  "That's better." The bard's daughter looked back at Tal with a raised eyebrow.

  Tal turned his gaze to Aelyn. "What do you intend to do?"

  The mage's smirk fell away, and his mouth worked as if he'd bitten into a lemon. "You stand little chance of success."

  "I know."

  "The Extinguished will set traps for you. He will be prepared."

  "I'd expect nothing less."

  "But still, you insist on going."

  Tal glanced at Wren and Garin. "Yes."

  Aelyn sighed, the sound as exasperated as it was resigned. "You're a fool, Harrenfel. A fool who will get himself killed."

  "Not if you're there to protect my flank. At least, we'll stand a better chance."

  The bronze smoldered in his eyes as he glared at him. "You know I have no choice. She'd never forgive me if I let you ride off to your death alone."

  His chest stirred unexpectedly. Decades, kingdoms, and kin-bonds separate you, he thought with bitter amusement. Yet still, just the barest mention of her can make you a boy again.

  "Thank you," he murmured.

  Aelyn's scowl deepened. "As I said, I don't go for you."

  "That's not what I'm thanking you for."

  Looking aside, Tal cleared his throat and settled the old memories back into the past. Then he looked around at their small crew. "We'll get no more aid, unfortunately. The King was
sad to lose his bard, but not so sorrowful as to spare soldiers for his recovery." A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Perhaps he's too frightened of the Soulstealer."

  Or perhaps he has nothing to fear from the East any longer. He kept the thought to himself, too bleak to utter aloud.

  "Then it's just us." Garin didn't sound as if he relished the conclusion.

  "We'll be enough," Wren said with more confidence than Tal felt. "When do we leave?"

  "As soon as we can." Tal started pacing again. "We'll ride through the night and sleep while the horses rest. It's over a week's ride to the ruins, and we won't get there any faster if we kill ourselves and our mounts hurrying."

  But he knew any delays meant the Extinguished would have more time to prepare for their arrival and decrease the chance of Falcon still being alive. If he even was now. He is alive, he told himself fiercely. It wasn't all wishful thinking. Tal understood only a little of the Night's sorcery, but he'd long ago learned that a person whose soul and face have been stolen had to be kept alive for the illusion to remain intact. At least until the Soulstealer returned to the Ruins of Erlodan, his friend lived.

  "Tal Harrenfel."

  He glanced up to see the physician standing on the stairs.

  "Warlock Kaleras wishes to see you," the wizened woman said.

  Tal hesitated, wondering what consequences would follow if he refused. But, knowing better, he swallowed the rebellious feeling and ascended the stairs past the physician.

  The room above was bright, with several lamps and the fireplace lit. A bed dominated the room and seemed to swallow the man lying in it. But Kaleras' eyes were as intelligent and intense as ever as they watched Tal mount the last step and stand at the top of the stairs.

  "Come closer," the warlock said, his voice weak, but iron in his tone.

  Tal reluctantly moved to stand next to the bed. "You wanted me?"

  The sheets shifted, and the old warlock's hand emerged, revealing a dull gray ring on his middle finger. Tal stared at the Ring of Thalkuun, its green script seeming to pulse in brightness. When he looked up, he found Kaleras watching him.

  The warlock gave him a bitter smile. "Much good it did me in the end."

  "This isn't the end for you, old man."

  "Perhaps. But the blade was poisoned. I have held the worst of it at bay, and the physician has done her best, but it is a potent poison." Kaleras shrugged, even the small movement seeming to cost him. "Night's End is an aptly named venom."

  "Then bring another to heal you."

  "A Magister has been summoned. But even if the Circle deigns to aid one who has abandoned their order, they won't be able to heal me." He wriggled his fingers slightly, calling attention to the gray, metal band on his middle finger.

  Tal's gaze fell to the ring, comprehending his meaning. The Ring of Thalkuun warded the user against all magic, no matter if it was intended to be helpful or hurtful. "Why don't you simply remove it?"

  "If I remove it, I am vulnerable. Which is precisely what the Enemy has been waiting for."

  Kaleras' eyes never left him as he worked his other arm free from the blankets and moved it, trembling, to his hand. Slowly, twisting as if it had rusted on, he pulled the band free of his finger, then held it up in his palm.

  Tal didn't take it. "Why? Why offer this now?"

  The warlock's eyes narrowed. "I told you, Harrenfel. I must remove it to be healed. And it will do me little good anyway while I lay here dying."

  "You didn't have any qualms taking it from me and leaving me to die."

  "I didn't know you then, boy!" Kaleras meant to roar the words, but they only came out as a furious wheeze. "I didn't know who you—" He cut off and turned his head aside, closing his hand over the ring.

  As Tal stared down at the wasted features of the old warlock, long-repressed feelings pushed their way back to the surface. "You didn't know what?" he asked quietly.

  "Just take it."

  But Tal continued, voice low and cold, the knowledge he'd struggled long and hard to win, that he'd nursed with bitter resentment for decades, finally breaking forth.

  "First, allow me to tell you a story. I was born in Hunt's Hollow nearly forty-one years ago. My mother was the daughter of a fletcher, supplying arrows for the outposts along the Fringes and for our kings' endless wars."

  "We don't have time for this. You must—"

  "One night," Tal spoke over him, "a warlock came through town on his way to a citadel in the East and saw my mother in the tavern. He took a fancy to her, and she to him — but her fascination, it was said, was to an unnatural degree. After a night of passion, the warlock continued on his way, leaving the woman behind with the present of a bastard—"

  "Enough!"

  Kaleras had turned as pale as his sheets, his chest heaving with every breath, and he spoke through gritted teeth. "I was young and drunk on my power. I thought myself untouchable — by the evils of the East, by morality, all of it. But I never lost sight of myself so much as to do… what you think I did. Talania took a fancy to me, yes, and I to her. I had charms about me to make folks look on me with a kinder eye, it's true, but warlocks are often killed if they don't take such measures. It was not to… seduce."

  As the warlock spoke, Tal felt as calm and serene as a mountain lake, his life and past in sudden clarity. And for once, he saw the blame lay with someone else.

  "You enthralled her," he said quietly. "Then you raped her."

  "NO!"

  A gust blew through the tower, the warlock unable to contain the force of his fury. For a moment, his eyes promised further retribution; then his head fell back against the pillows, exhausted.

  "No," he repeated, this time in a whisper. "I won't pretend it was love. But it was mutual. She agreed, I agreed..."

  Tal found a smile tugging at his lips, though there was not a shred of mirth left in him. "Nevertheless. You don't seem surprised. When did you figure it out?"

  The old warlock met his gaze again. "I'd suspected there was something to you ever since we met. A touch of the eldritch in your eyes, but also something else I couldn't quite grasp. Then, after you fled your performance with the Dancing Feathers at that Sendeshi nobleman's manor, I became curious and learned what I could of you. Once I discovered you were from Hunt's Hollow, it was simple to piece the rest together."

  Tal searched the warlock's deep brown eyes. Did he see remorse there, in those eyes so like his? Could this man feel enough remorse for it to matter?

  He thought back to his childhood. To his mother, a disgraced woman, scrounging to provide a living for him while others spat at her feet as they passed in the street. Working day and night, fletching arrows when they had the materials, scrubbing laundry when they didn't, despair creasing her brow to the last day she lived. He remembered and found himself hardening.

  Are you without fault? part of him mocked. Have you never made mistakes?

  A smile twisted his lips. He had only to remember his many names to recount all the errors he'd made. But he found his heart no softer for the memories.

  Tal held out his hand. "I'll take the ring. But giving it to me does nothing to ease your guilt, considering you stole it from me in the first place."

  Kaleras' gaze turned to flint again. "You won't forget my mistake?"

  "No one seems able to forget mine."

  For a moment, he thought the warlock would rescind his offer. Then, with a bitter twist of his lips, he opened his hand and offered the dull gray band again.

  Tal took it and held it up, staring at the glyphs. He could read the larger letters, the founding script of the enchantment, but his grasp of the Worldtongue fell away for every fine line that trailed away from the primary runes.

  "Thalkuun Haeldar," he whispered. "The One Impervious to the Heart."

  A thought flickered through his head as he whispered the words, the vague notion of an idea. But he tucked it away even as he put the Ring of Thalkuun on his middle finger. The shiver of the enchantment pressed o
ver him, and he felt as if he'd stepped into a shadow after standing under the sun's heat.

  "Return that to me." Any gentleness in Kaleras' countenance had dissipated entirely. "And be sure you kill the Night-lusting bastard."

  Tal stood. "I will."

  He turned and began to descend the stairs, but paused and half-turned back, just seeing the warlock from the corner of his vision. "Oh, and Kaleras?"

  "Yes?"

  Did he hear a note of expectation in his voice? He needn't have bothered getting his hopes up. "I have something I'll leave with you in return. Something that might keep you entertained while you're an invalid."

  He didn't have to look around to know Kaleras glared at him. "I'm hardly an invalid. But leave what you must."

  Nodding, Tal turned back down the stairs, feeling the warlock's gaze on him until he disappeared out of sight.

  Like Old Friends

  Just a moment longer. One more gallop — One more — And another—

  Garin struggled to keep his eyes open, but they fought back in equal measure. Had someone told him that he could fall asleep riding a horse at full tilt, he would have laughed them out of the room.

  He wasn't laughing now.

  Four days, they'd kept up the grueling pace, only resting for the horses while they choked down hard bread and cold, salted meat — then it was back into their saddles again. Despite his complaints about the waste of his talents, Aelyn bolstered the horses' endurance through a steady supply of enchantments. When Garin snidely suggested he ought to spare some on the riders, the mage looked on the verge of showing him a piece of the Night's Pyres then and there.

  All of them were nearing their thread's ends — all save Tal. With each mile they neared the ruins, he seemed to grow more vital, more full of life, as if there was no amount of rest or food in the World that could match whatever sustenance awaited him there.

  Garin knew the feeling well.

  He felt the cursed place drawing nearer, its Night-touched stones calling to him in a faint, ghostly chorus. And no matter how he tried to shut it out, he inevitably found himself straining to hear it again. As much as he feared listening, he feared more its fading.