Luca’s throat was too tight to eat, anyway. They were looking for the Shard, which lay in the pack at his feet.
Why had Shianan stolen it? It was plain he had to get it out of Alham before it was discovered. And he had sent Luca, sacrificing a slave—
No, not exactly. I’ll swear on the rack that you knew nothing of it. His master had urged secrecy for both their sakes. Luca, my friend, I have a task for you. Luca had not dared to think on that—but it implied Shianan had not willingly sacrificed him. Didn’t it?
Luca wiped apple juice onto his leg and rolled the sheaf of accounts into the bag. He hefted the damning weight of the Shard to his shoulders and glanced after the military company. As they disappeared over the next hill, he turned and moved away from the road.
There were two large oaks before him, ideal markers for a hiding place. He could bury it in the ample space between them. But they were spaced several dozen paces apart, and the Shard might be left long enough for all signs of digging to fade. Luca rotated, scanning the landscape around him. There! Two white birches fifty paces away, perfect for his purpose. He placed himself exactly between the two oaks and then crept sideways until one birch disappeared behind the other, appearing to be a single tree. He dropped the pack and went in search of a sturdy stick.
It was hours before he finished, but he was confident his work would go unnoticed. He had carefully peeled back the sod first, loosening it and scraping it free below the roots, buried the Shard, and then replaced the sod over the refilled hole; the grass would recover within a few days, given the damp earth, and within a week or so it would look undisturbed. The excess earth he’d carried by hand and scattered over a wide area, so there was no obvious detritus to attract attention. And the place was an arrow’s shot from the road, where few would see it.
He brushed the larger chunks of mud from his hands, took the remaining apple from the considerably-lighter pack, and settled the straps on his shoulders. Now he had to deliver the accounts, as his master had sent him.
Shianan tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry, and he felt he might gag instead. He scraped his palms across his tunic and tried to breathe normally.
The door opened easily under his hand, and he entered the audience room and knelt. The king’s voice commanded, “Rise, Bailaha.”
Shianan did so but kept his eyes low, not trusting himself to keep a steady expression. Courtiers and advisors filled the room around them, and he could feel their eyes boring through him.
“The Shard is our most precious resource at the moment,” King Jerome opened curtly.
“I know, sire. We are working to find it.” Shianan licked his lips.
“Can you explain how this could have happened?”
“I can’t, Your Majesty….”
“Sire,” interrupted another voice. “The commander spent most of the night in the search for Prince Alasdair, like myself. I suspect he, like myself, has had little time to examine what evidence we have or to formulate any plans of action beyond what was immediately done.”
King Jerome and Shianan both looked in surprise at Soren. Shianan caught himself first, swallowed and nodded, amazed his voice responded. “We have sent companies to all major crossroads within a day’s march, Your Majesty. Even had they found the Shard already, news could not have reached us yet.”
The king nodded thoughtfully. “True, true. And we hear you were the one who found our prince Alasdair. That was well done.” He smiled. “We are very grateful for that.”
Shianan flushed with heat. “Thank you, sire. I am happy to have been of service.” He swallowed. “I think perhaps we should have had a stricter guard on the Shard itself, Your Majesty. It was in the lowest level of the Wheel, which has a guard at each entry, but it was not watched specifically.”
The king nodded. “That will be remedied after its recovery. Bailaha, we charge you and General Septime with the safe recovery of this vital safeguard. The Circle is ready to recreate the shield; the thief must be a traitor who seeks to keep us vulnerable to the Ryuven. Find this treasonous cancer so that we may cut it out.”
Shianan gulped and bowed. “As you command, Your Majesty.” As he straightened, Ewan Hazelrig’s eyes caught his. Shianan tore his gaze from the mage and faced the king. “If Your Majesty has no further questions of me, I will return to organizing a more comprehensive search.”
This frank request startled the king, but he nodded. “Go to your work, then. We will expect regular reports.”
Shianan bowed and backed to the door, waiting until it closed firmly before fleeing the antechamber. His mind spun; he had to invent something to give the appearance of industrious search without endangering Luca and actually capturing the Shard.
Almost he wished for arrest and the relief of the suspense, the solid knowledge of what he would face. Almost.
Perhaps a miracle would save them—Hazelrig might find a way to reach across the between-worlds, or Tam might return her this very day. Then Shianan could discover the Shard’s hiding place and be the kingdom’s hero.
He blew out his breath bitterly. Such dreams would only disappoint him more keenly; better to focus on what he could do to delay his arrest and interrogation.
Chapter 47
Shianan tugged nervously at his tunic and entered the massive door to the elder prince’s antechamber. The secretary gave him a dubious look, and Shianan said, “His Highness asked me to come this afternoon.”
The secretary nodded authoritatively and rubbed at his nose. “Wait here, please, your lordship. I’ll speak to His Highness.”
Shianan paced for the duration of the secretary’s absence. But when the inner door opened, it was Soren who emerged. Shianan dropped into a bow.
“Bailaha, I am sorry, but I cannot stay. I appreciate your coming as asked, but—well, I’m sure you have as many demands as I do today. With any luck, the Shard has already been recovered and is on its way home, but until it arrives….” Soren exhaled. “Perhaps we can find time later.” He nodded. “I’m sorry, Bailaha.”
Shianan bowed again. “Your Highness.” When he stood, the prince was gone and the secretary was already seated, making a few notes and ignoring him. Shianan left.
Nothing had changed. He hadn’t thought it would, not really. It was not disappointment he felt, but the cold certainty of confirmation. Nothing had changed.
He returned to his quarters long enough to exchange court-worthy clothing for training gear and went to the practice yard. The men not dispatched in search of the Shard deserved a day of lighter drills, after last night’s difficult search, but Shianan would see their routine was not too simple. Nothing in the military changed.
The oversized oaken doors of Fhure’s main house were locked by the time Luca arrived, shortly before midnight. He beat at the door and called until a watchman came. “Who are you, coming at this hour?”
“I carry papers from our master, Shianan Becknam.”
The watchman grunted. “Come in, then.”
Luca looked around the modest but elegant entry, heavily shadowed by the lantern. “Where is the majordomo?”
“In bed, like sensible people,” grumbled the watchman. “Didn’t you think of the bandits?”
Luca shook his head. “I didn’t know you had bandits nearby.” He withdrew the accounts, secure in their oilcloth wrapping. “I want to deliver this and be on my way as quickly as possible.”
“What is it?” A thin man in nightclothes with a cloak drawn over his shoulders entered and looked at Luca expectantly. “I’m Kraden, the majordomo. Who are you?”
Luca gave a small bow, for the majordomo’s position far outranked his own. “I bring a message from our master.” He extended the wrapped packet. The watchman hung close behind, anxious to hear the news.
“He ignores us for nigh a year and then sends midnight messages? What’s it, then?”
A sturdy woman who had followed Kraden moved to the fire, prodding it to greater flame and pulling at the blanke
t around her shoulders. “You walked through the dark, lad?”
“What?” Kraden stared from the accounts, spread in one hand, to the letter in the other. “He doesn’t trust the accounting and wants it redone.”
“What’s that?” The woman heaved herself about and snatched the letter. “Those numbers are good, I’ll vouch for that,” she said indignantly. “I checked them twice.” She grinned at Luca. “Yes, it’s mine. Kraden’s a dear, managing things, but I can render accounts in a third of the time and leave him to manage the place.”
Luca nodded. “That’s good. Er, please don’t be offended. If you’ve heard about the military funds—”
“Right, right.” Kraden nodded. “Didn’t we say every lord in the land would be checking his accounts more closely? He’s just giving us the chance to be sure of things.” He took the accounts back. “You are sure of these, Marta?”
“Sure as sunrise,” Marta answered confidently. “I never send without checking twice.” She turned back to Luca. “But why rush this, lad? You could have slept safe and brought it in the morning.”
“I hadn’t the time,” Luca answered. “I need to leave again by dawn.”
Marta gave him a skeptical glance. “He can’t expect you to do that trip again in a day!”
It wasn’t Shianan’s orders that drove Luca, but he could hardly explain that. “I should hurry.”
“Blasted unreasonable bastard,” Kraden muttered, “and he can stay in Alham for all my pleasure. Marta, get the man something warm to drink, will you?”
Chapter 48
Tamaryl drew one knee to his chest and rested his chin upon it. He had retained some boyish habits, it seemed, after fifteen years posing as a child.
He glanced at the package resting beside him. It felt far too small. Maru had suffered for Tamaryl’s poor judgment, and no offering could make things right. And there had been a promise….
Tamaryl had been only a child—a real child—when the attack had come. The Lian had threatened the Ai for some time, but this was the first time fighting had reached so far. It had caught them by surprise, and Tamaryl had not time even to escape inside. In the garden he huddled within sheltering flowers, curled tightly into himself.
Only steps away, his mother fought. Even through his terror he was in awe of her as she flung bolt after bolt into their foes, snatched down Lian warriors with savage magic, whirled to destroy another opponent. She was deadly, graceful, powerful, unstoppable.
But Caliel’silth was only one. Their garden was not netted, and there were too many Lian dropping from the sky. Even in her fury she fell behind, now deflecting as many bolts as she threw. A hot blast of magic scorched the earth beside Tamaryl, withering and crisping the flowering vine, and when he looked again his mother was facing three Lian males.
But another form rushed from the side with angry magic. She had to fight at closer quarters and her attacks did not utterly disable her targets; she was nim. But she disrupted their concerted assault upon Caliel’silth, and together the two females killed two of the Lian while the third fled, badly injured. They did not pursue him but faced the continuing Lian onslaught, fighting together in terrible harmony, Caliel’silth destroying those above while the nim Rizalet dispatched those who penetrated Caliel’s barrier and wider attacks.
When the Lian had at last been repelled, the two females stood panting in the bloodied garden, eying the array of dead warriors. They had hardly assured themselves of the enemy’s flight before they turned to opposite sides of the garden and called anxiously.
“Tamaryl!”
“Maru!”
Their sons came hesitantly, fearing the dead Lian and the open sky. Tamaryl flung himself into his mother’s arms and clutched her tightly. Beside him, the strange boy wailed. “Mama, you’re bleeding!”
“I’m all right, Maru,” his mother soothed. “Take my hand. We must go.”
“Nonsense,” Caliel’silth said, speaking to the stranger for the first time. “You are wounded.”
Rizalet shook her head, breathing shallowly. “No, Caliel’silth, thank you. I only saw you were fighting alone and I hid my son in your garden. I did not mean to stay.” She rose to her feet. “We—we are going to….” Her eyes rolled and she fell forward onto her son, who shrieked.
Caliel’silth set aside Tamaryl and gathered the injured nim into her arms, carrying her into the Palace of Clouds and calling for the scattered servants. Special care was given to the nim who had aided the silth in her own garden, and Rizalet stayed in the palace itself while healers attended her. Their sons eyed one another warily before settling to play at knocking imaginary humans in the head with garden sticks. In the end, Rizalet confessed she had lost her small holding in the Lian attacks, and Caliel’silth promised that she and Maru would always have a place in her household.
Maru was the only other child in the Palace of Clouds, and he became Tamaryl’s fast friend. When Rizalet fell ill, years later, young Tamaryl had gone secretly to her and promised anew that Maru would always have a place in the household, that he would be safe even after she was gone.
And then Tamaryl had abandoned him. Twice.
At last he sighed and picked up the package as he rose. He passed the servants industriously restoring the mansion and went directly to the open room where Maru lay on a sleeping couch. It took time to recover from fup. “Are you awake? How do you feel?”
Maru gave him a tired smile as he sat up. “I’m all right, Ryl.”
“You’re better, certainly, but I don’t know that you’re entirely all right.” Tamaryl seated himself on a stool and held out the packet. “Here; eat it all.”
“Chocolate!” Maru’s face broke into a more honest smile. “Better than honey!”
Tamaryl smiled. “I’ll get more this afternoon, so be sure to finish that.” He sobered. “Maru—I did not know what you would face in Daranai’s house. I never would have asked you to stay….”
“Ryl,” Maru interrupted, “you do not need to apologize. You hold no blame.”
Tamaryl swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He had hurt Daranai, if unconsciously, and left his unprepared friend to suffer her revenge. “But still, you suffered for my lack of insight.”
“Well, I would not have it repeated,” Maru said grimly. “But none of it was your doing.” He took a bite of chocolate. “How is—the rika?”
Tamaryl noted the hesitation. “She is doing well. She is practicing, trying to become familiar with our own magic.” He shrugged. “If you’re feeling well enough, you should come with us this afternoon.”
Maru thought only a moment before smiling. “I am merely tired. I will go to the market with you.”
“Good.” Tamaryl rose. “I have some things to see to. I’ll come for you when we’re ready.”
He left Maru and found his steward, reclaimed from a wing of the Palace of Red Sands. Fasi’bel had returned willingly to Tamaryl’s service, happy to have the responsibility of a full estate again after years of working beneath another steward.
“Tamaryl’sho,” she greeted. “I have spread word that we need a few more servants to complete your household. We should have a full contingent within a few days.”
“There is no hurry, Fasi’bel,” Tamaryl told her, “but thank you for your efforts. Actually, that is another task I have for you.”
She produced a slate for notes.
“In the house of Daranai’rika, there is a nim called Taro. I want you to purchase his debt so his obligation is to this house.” He hesitated. “You will probably find Daranai’rika is… not receptive to any offers originating from me. If you can trust another to do it, you may find it an easier task.”
“Yes, Tamaryl’sho.”
“I don’t know the exact amount of the debt, but he owes something like two years of service. I am willing to pay a little more to have him, if necessary. Use your own judgment. It has always been excellent.”
“Thank you, Tamaryl’sho.” Fasi smiled bene
ath the praise.
Tamaryl went next to the room given to Ariana. He rapped the wall beside the archway—a courtesy concession to human preference in the open Ryuven house—and called, “Mistress Ariana?”
“Come in. The door’s open, anyway.” She laughed. “I’m practicing. I thought I could manage a light,” she explained with mild disappointment, gesturing to the unlit candle beside her, “but apparently that’s more control than I can muster yet. How’s Maru?”
“Recovering. How is your practice coming?”
Ariana shrugged. “Your magic is everywhere! So easy to draw! It’s harder to control, though; I’m not used to such abundance flowing quite so freely. Hence my difficulty with the candle. And to be honest, delicate work has never been my forte. But I cannot use much power, yet. It hurts.”
“It hurts?”
“I want instinctively to suppress it, to limit it. But that’s…. It’s difficult. And painful. I think it is better to simply channel it and trust it will do as I ask, but that’s—frightening. I am used to more control. And, it’s exhausting.”
“Your kind is not accustomed to our magic, nor trained to handle it, nor perhaps even capable of withstanding it.” He looked at her seriously. “It has killed every mage brought here—you are the first to survive. Only a mage of very great talent and skill could manage what you have done thus far.”
She sobered at this daunting statement, but she answered as if he only complimented her. “Thank you, Tam—Tamaryl—but I don’t mean to stop just yet. It’s right there, just out of reach, and I had it once. I can do it again. After another nap.” She smiled. “You said we would go out this afternoon?”
He nodded. He wanted to test her defenses before he carried her again into the between-worlds. He had to know if she were strong enough… and he secretly, privately, hoped she was not. Once he carried her home, the shield would be restored and their worlds separated forever, and now—so soon after Daranai’s offense, still uncertain in his return to the Ryuven court—now he did not want to lose her. Not yet.
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