Land of Night (24 page)

Scarlet couldn't help laughing. “You sounded just like your brother for a moment there,” he said. But he did not want to talk about Liall.

Cestimir reached his long arms over Scarlet to throw a blanket over their knees, and then covered Scarlet alone with another fur.

"Just to be safe,” Cestimir said. “I don't know very much about Hilurin. We Rshani tolerate cold very well, but I have difficulty judging what is too cold for you."

"Prince Nazheradei does that, too,” Scarlet said. “Or too hot. He's forever stoking the fire up in our rooms, until he has me sweating and swearing at him to open a window."

Cestimir laughed. “Well, you see? He cares for you.” He pushed Scarlet's shoulder. “You have been imagining otherwise, yes? Please do not. There is one thing that everyone says about my brother: his moods do not change with the weather. He is a constant man. He loved you yesterday and he loves you today."

Scarlet looked away. “I lied to him."

"And he lied to you. You are even. Time to forget and start over. Ah, Scarlet, life is short! It is so very short, and there is so little time to do the things we yearn to do. Do not waste time on this ... this useless heartache, I beg of you."

Scarlet smiled a little. “How old are you again, boy?"

"Fifty, according to Alexyin,” Cestimir grinned. “And then at other times: five. Today, I believe, we are at a five."

"Where are we headed?” Scarlet asked again, peering at the front window, which was almost totally blocked by Yesuk's broad back as he snapped the reins, urging the pair of horses on.

"Just for a run,” Cestimir replied, settling back. “Up near the foothills. We'll be back before my mother and Nazheradei are out of that damnable council meeting with no one the wiser. I want to show you the old temple ruins. Melev has told me so much about them that he has gotten me quite curious, and I've been thinking of going there since you told me about the statues you saw in Morturii. The legends say that the Shining Ones lived there once. We're supposedly descended from them."

Scarlet nodded. “So Lia ... your brother has said."

Cestimir gave him a curious look. “What do you call him? You never say it all the way, but cut yourself off or call him Prince Nazheradei, with your tongue sounding like you've eaten briars."

"Liall,” Scarlet answered, pushing back a wave of sadness. “It's his name back home."

Scarlet realized that the sleigh was moving awfully fast, even faster than the one Liall and he had ridden to the palace. He gripped the cushions with gloved hands and hoped Yesuk knew what he was doing. The sleigh began to ascend another steep hill with no sigh of slowing.

"There is nothing to worry about,” Cestimir said. “Yesuk is very skilled, and he is familiar with this road."

Scarlet peered out the window. Well, he supposed there was a road somewhere beneath the snow, at least. “Does the snow ever melt up here?"

"No, not up here. In the lowlands, yes. You will hardly recognize my land then. Everywhere it is green and bright with sun.” Cestimir produced a flask from his coat and opened it. “Here, have a sip, it will warm you."

Scarlet took a cautious swallow and found it was the same stuff that Liall had given him on the Ostre Sul, fiery but warming. He handed it back to Cestimir, who also took a swallow and put the flask away. “Has Liall spoken with you yet?"

"About?” Cestimir arched a too-familiar eyebrow.

That made Scarlet laugh again. “There, that's very like him. Nothing in particular. He was just going to arrange a longer meeting with you.” It occurred to Scarlet belatedly that it might be unwise to make assumptions.

"Oh, that. Yes.” Cestimir looked pleased, though. “He apologized for delaying in coming to visit me. I think I like this unknown brother of mine. He thanked me for being kind to you, and I felt obligated to tell him I had not.” His tone was regretful. “I'm sorry for that, truly. And I'm sorry that you've been ill-treated by the court. I'd like a giant broom to sweep them all away some days."

"Some of them could take up a better job than being nasty to folk all the time,” Scarlet admitted. The sleigh swayed and he clutched at the door.

Cestimir grinned and Scarlet opened his mouth to ask the prince to tell him more about the legends of the immortal giants, and then the world turned upside down.

The sleigh swayed again wildly, swinging around almost sideways in the road. Then it jolted so hard that it rattled Scarlet's teeth. There was a terrific
crack
just before the rear end of the sleigh seemed to bottom out. Beneath his feet it sounded as if the earth was being ripped and torn apart. Scarlet could hear rocks being thrown up against the undercarriage, and then there was one more tremendous jolt and they were tumbling, end over end, streaks of starlight racing past the window.

Scarlet thumped his head on the roof and caught hold of Cestimir, purely out of terror. It saved him from being thrown through the window. Gravity vanished and he closed his eyes, dizzy and sick, just before they slammed back into the earth with a crash that was thunderous in the small confines of the sleigh carriage.

They came to rest, tipped half-way up again, neither right side up, nor upside down, but balanced precariously. Cestimir tried to sit up. The sleigh rocked and shifted.

"Don't move,” Scarlet gasped, and Cestimir froze. “Wait, wait.” He closed his eyes a moment and breathed through his mouth, waiting for the dizziness to lift, and then opened them again.

This is very bad, he thought as the sleigh creaked again. He heard one of the horses screaming.

"What shall we do?” Cestimir's voice was muffled by furs, but he sounded calm enough.

"Be still. Give me a moment.” Scarlet moved his hand by inches and rubbed his glove over the glass to clear it. “Oh gods...” He felt sick. They were on the very edge of a cliff, the window giving him a view of black, open space below them. This was going to be difficult.

"Cesta, this is very important.” Scarlet was trembling so hard that it was difficult to speak, but then he glanced at the prince's face. Cestimir was pale and his eyes were wide like blue marbles, and Scarlet reminded himself that the boy was only fourteen. Prince or not, he would have to be the strong one here.

"We need to inch back towards the other door to shift our weight,” Scarlet said, forcing his voice to be level. “We need to do it very, very slowly and carefully because we're close to the edge on my side."

"All right,” Cestimir said, but did not move.

Scarlet took in a breath, willing his teeth not to chatter. “You will have to go first."

"Oh. Of course.” Cestimir sounded winded, as if he had run a long ways, but Scarlet admired his calm.

Scarlet held his breath, as if that would do any good, and held very still as Cestimir shifted back, little by little. “When you get to the door, see if you can open it and slide through."

"I'm not leaving you!"

"Please don't,” he returned dryly, shifting his weight over with the prince. “But one of us has to go first and you're closest. Don't argue, you want-wit, just do it."

Scarlet heard a creaking noise and the sleigh shivered unpleasantly, as if it were considering sliding off the edge anyway. The door creaked.

"Open,” Cestimir said. The sleigh steadied again. “Hurry, Keriss,” Cestimir said in a scared voice, sounding younger by the second.

Scarlet wasted no time and pushed himself back with more speed than sense, his legs tangled in furs that were dragged out with him. He had barely reached the open door when the sleigh began to slide toward the edge. He got one foot out and Cestimir grabbed his arm, then he dug his foot in and launched his body forward, landing face-first in the snow and splitting his lower lip on something hard hidden beneath the layer of flakes. The sleigh slid another several inches over the side before it halted there, hanging suspended over open sky.

Oh, gods, the horses—he scrambled to cut them free, but he needn't have worried. One horse had vanished, spooked into running off, he assumed at first. The other was further up the hill, clear of the wreckage. The front of the sleigh containing the driver's seat and reins had snapped clean off, and Yesuk lay very still in the snow. Cestimir was beside Scarlet as he caught the mare's bridle, and they both exchanged the same grim look, for the horse was lamed: bloodied white bone poking through her foreleg.

"Yesuk,” Cestimir gasped, turning.

Scarlet handed the reins to Cestimir. Prince or no, Cestimir was still a boy. “Here, hold the mare. I'll see to him.” He jogged the short distance to the curve of the hill where Yesuk lay, but it was no use. The man's neck was broken and his skull crushed against a rock jutting out of the snow, now bathed red.

"The man is dead,” Scarlet called out as Cestimir watched anxiously, and the boy froze for a moment, looking blank and lost. Scarlet returned to him and put his hands on the broken reins. The horse whinnied in pain, her foreleg drawn up under her.

Scarlet couldn't help the animal, but he could put her out of her misery. “Give me your knife,” he told Cestimir, spitting blood from his split mouth, but Cestimir shook his head.

"I will do it."

The prince drew his knife from his belt and did what needed to be done. Brave lad, Scarlet thought, and left Cestimir grieving over Yesuk as he collected the scattered furs from outside the carriage before joining him beside the body. Cestimir's eyes were dry as he cleaned his knife in the snow.

The wind skirled down from the hill and Scarlet shivered, realizing just how bitter it was. All was shrouded in the dim, bluish light that disrupted all normal sense of distance and depth and made objects seem closer than they were. Yet the spires of the Nauhinir Palace, wedged into the cleft of the valley below, did not look so very small. It depended on how deep the snow was. They could survive it if they made good time and stayed warm.

"I will have someone's blood for this,” Cestimir said coolly. “Yesuk was my friend.” He reached out to touch the fallen man's shoulder and said something in Sinha.

Scarlet marveled again at the prince's calm. “Here,” he said, and wrapped one of the furs around Cestimir's head and shoulders. “Keep your face covered."

Cestimir nodded slowly and stood, hauling Scarlet up with him. “You've lost a glove,” he observed.

So he had. Scarlet shook his head when Cestimir would have given him one of his. “No, it's fine. These sleeves are too long as it is. I'll just keep this hand safely inside and hold the fur closed with this one. But we need to start moving."

"Agreed.” Cestimir pointed. “Your forehead is bleeding again."

"It is?” Scarlet reached up and felt the matted lump over his left eyebrow. The wound was only scraped open and hadn't bled much, but the size of the lump was still impressive. “It doesn't hurt."

"That's not always a good sign,” Cestimir worried. “Come,” he said, and threw the remaining fur around Scarlet's shoulders. “We must start back."

As they passed the overturned sleigh, Cestimir caught his arm. “Keriss, look.” He pointed to the long, shining runners. One of them had snapped, perhaps as they rounded too fast at the curve of the hill.

"It broke,” he said needlessly.

"It didn't break,” Cestimir disagreed. “Too clean. It was sawn through.” His expression was stony.

They stood together in silence, staring at the death that been intended for them, or perhaps just for Cestimir alone. Scarlet still doubted that anyone would go to this much trouble to harm him. He opened his mouth to tell Cestimir just that, but suddenly the sleigh groaned like a living thing and began to slide towards the edge of the cliff. Both young men backed away, and within a few seconds the underside of the sleigh rolled over very slowly, like a fish going belly up in water, and it wavered there, hung out like Linhona's washing over an open sky, before tumbling end over end to the bottom of the black gorge far, far below.

They stood for a few moments in mute shock, then turned without a word and began walking down the hill.

"Be careful where you step,” Cestimir cautioned. “And let us move further away from the edge. This light can make shadows very deceiving."

Scarlet chuckled a little. “Cestimir, Hilurin can see much better than Rshani in the dark."

"They can?” The prince shook his head as they walked. “You are full of surprises, ser Keriss, but I think you have heard that before."

The first part of the trek did not go badly. The snow was only as high as Scarlet's boot tops, and they were both shaking and charged from the wreck. It was nearly an hour before the cold began to sap Scarlet's bones and his legs began to tire, but he resisted feeling it. His head throbbed and the bruise on his temple was one loud hum of agony, but that, too, he kept to himself, kept his feet moving.

Despite telling Cestimir that he would keep his gloveless hand protected in his sleeve, Scarlet had to keep using it to grasp onto rocks or the bare trunks of saplings as they navigated their way down the hill. It became numb quickly and thereafter he ceased to feel it. It was a long walk and the ghost-pale trees looming over the road from the steep embankment seemed like arms reaching over the path. White trees still seemed unnatural to him, and their presence illuminated how he felt about himself here.

It was true, what Liall said. He was the foreigner here. This landscape was alien to Scarlet, and he didn't have the slightest idea how to navigate it. He had been traveling roads in Byzantur on his own since he was seven, errands for Scaja from Lysia to Tradepoint and Skeld's ferry—and even the Sea Road to Riverpoint. Now there was a royal court to navigate, dangers he had never heard of, a people and a language and a history he did not understand. Perhaps he had been too confident since coming to Rshan, too stubborn and proud, and perhaps Liall could only see how out of his element and vulnerable he was. Despite his misgivings, there were many things Scarlet loved about Rshan: the books with pictures in them, the way that everyone lived together like bees in a hive in the Nauhinir, and how for the most part they all seemed to get along and to thrive. He liked the food and the music and the smells. He even liked the blue lamps. Scarlet realized that he was drawn to this place, without ever having seen it before. Rshan felt like a childhood home he was returning to, a place dimly remembered, but always cherished. He wondered if the land felt the same about him, and doubted it.