Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (41 page)

The bond between them was too strong for him to mask his sudden flash of fear and anger. One look at Alec's stricken face told him he'd gone too far.

"Nothing will ever separate us," Alec whispered.

This time he didn't resist as Seregil embraced him, but instead clutched him closer.

Seregil held him, stroking his back and marveling at this fierce blend of love and pain.

"The rhui'auros—" Alec's voice was muffled against Seregil's neck. "I can't even explain what I saw, or how it felt. Bilairy's Balls, I see now why you hate that place!"

"No matter what you think they showed you up there, tali, you won't lose me. Not as long as I have breath in my body."

Alec clung to him a moment longer, then stepped back and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"I watched my mother die. I felt it." There was still a deep sorrow in him, but also awe. "She died to save me, but my father never spoke of her. Not once."

Seregil stroked a stray strand of hair back from Alec's cheek. "Some things are too hurtful to speak of. He must have loved her very much."

Alec's face took on a faraway look for a moment, as if he were seeing something Seregil couldn't. "Yes, he did." He wiped at his eyes again. "What did they want with you?"

Seregil thought again of the maddening glass balls, the snow and filth and the butterfly. Somewhere among those jumbled hints lay a pattern, a link of familiarity.

They are yours:

"I'm not sure."

"Did he say anything about the ban of exile being lifted? "

"It never occurred to me to ask."

Or perhaps I didn't want to hear the answer,
he thought.

A great lethargy settled over Seregil as they rode for home. By the time they reached the house and stabled their horses, his bones ached with it.

A few night lamps lit their way upstairs. Alec's arm stole around his waist and he returned the embrace silently, grateful for the contact.

Tired as he was, he barely took note of a sliver of light showing beneath a door on the second floor.

A whisper-gentle touch on Thero's chest had woken him in the middle of the night. Starting up in alarm, he scrutinized the corners of his chamber.

No one was there. The small warding glyphs he'd placed on his door when he'd taken up residence here were undisturbed.

Only after he'd made a complete circuit of the room did he notice the folded parchment lying among the disordered bedclothes.

Snatching it up, he broke the plain wax seal and unfolded it. The small square was blank, except for a tiny sigil in one corner— Magyana's mark.

He paused, hearing footsteps in the corridor outside. Casting a seeking spell, he saw it was only Alec and Seregil and returned his attention to Magyana's message.

Hands, heart, and eyes,
he mouthed silently, passing his hand across the sheet. Ink seeped from the parchment, flowing into Magyana's cramped scrawl.

"My dear Thero, I send you sad news in secret and at my own risk. By your Hands, Heart, and Eyes
___"

A hard knot of dread crystallized in the young wizard's throat as he read on. When he'd finished he pulled on a robe and stole barefoot to Klia's chamber.

23

A
Conversation

Ulan i Sathil rubbed Torsin's token—half a silver sester—between his fingers as he strolled beside the Vhadasoori pool. It was quite dark, and he heard the Skalan before he saw him. The wracking cough was as distinctive as a halloo, echoing faintly over the water. It was always distressing when a Tir began to fail this way, especially one of such value.

Following the sound, Ulan stepped out onto the surface of the pool and glided across to where Torsin stood waiting. It was a good trick—one of many that had not come down to the Skalan wizards—and made a strong impression on the mind of any Tir who witnessed it. It was also much easier on his aching old knees than walking.

Torsin, of course, had seen the trick before and seemed only mildly surprised when Ulan stepped up onto shore.

"Aura's blessings on you, old friend."

"May the Light shine on you," Torsin replied, patting his lips with a handkerchief. "Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."

"A walk under the peace of the stars is one of the few pleasures left to old men like ourselves, is it not?" Ulan replied. "I'd suggest stretching out on the grass to watch the sky as

we used to, but I fear neither of us would regain our feet without help or magic."

"Indeed not." Torsin paused, and Ulan thought he heard regret in the sigh that followed. When Torsin spoke again, however, he was his usual direct self. "The situation in Skala is shifting rapidly. I am now instructed to present you with a tentative counterproposal, one which will most assuredly be more palatable to you."

Instructed by whom, I wonder?
thought Ulan.

Linking arms, the two men strolled slowly along the water's edge, speaking too softly now for the slender figure watching from the shadow of a standing stone to hear.

24

Bad News

A brisk rap at the chamber door jerked Seregil awake just before dawn. Still half caught in a nightmare, he sat up mumbling, "Yes? What is it?" The door swung open a few inches and Kheeta peered in at him. "Sorry to come so early, but it's by Klia's order. She wants you and Alec in her chamber at once."

The door closed and Seregil fell back among the pillows, trying to pull together the scattered images of his latest dream. Once again, he'd been trying to save the glass spheres from the rising fire, but each time he tried to gather them, there were more: a handful, a roomful, a dark, limitless vista of the cursed things beneath which unseen monsters burrowed, coming ever closer.

"O Illior, maker of dreams, give me the meaning of this one before it drives me mad!" he whispered aloud. Rolling out of bed, he fumbled in the dark for his boots. "Wake up, Alec. Klia's expecting us."

There was no answer. The other half of the bed was empty, the sheets cool. Alec had been too shaken to sleep after they'd returned from the Nha'mahat. He'd been sitting by the fire when Seregil fell asleep. "Alec?" he called again. His questing fingers found a taper on the mantel and he pushed it about in the banked

ashes on the hearth until he found a live coal. The wick flared at last and he held it up.

Alec was nowhere to be seen.

Puzzled, he finished dressing and set off for Klia's room alone. He was halfway down the corridor when he heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the roof. Here was Alec at last, bleary eyed and still dressed in last night's clothes.

"Were you up there all night? "

Alec rubbed at the back of his neck. "I couldn't sleep, so I went up to the colos to think. I must have finally dozed off. Where are you off to so early? I was hoping for a few hours' sleep in a warm bed."

"Not just yet, tali. Klia's sent for us."

This woke him up. "Do you think the Iia'sidra has reached a decision?" he asked, following Seregil downstairs.

"Even if they had, I doubt they'd spring that on us at dawn."

As they walked down the second-floor corridor toward Klia's chamber they could hear familiar sounds echoing up from the kitchen: clattering of pots, hurried footsteps, the voices of some Urgazhi riders joking with the cooks in broken Aurenfaie as they came in for their breakfast.

"Sounds like a normal enough morning," Alec remarked.

Thero answered their knock and admitted them to Klia's sitting room.

The princess sat by a small writing table. Although she was dressed for a day with the council, one look at her pale, too-calm face left Seregil with a sinking feeling. No, this was no normal morning.

Thero moved to stand just behind her, as if she were queen and he her court wizard. Lord Torsin and Beka already occupied the room's only chairs, and they looked as uneasy as Seregil suddenly felt.

"Good, you're all here. The queen my mother is dead," Klia announced flatly.

The words sapped the strength from Seregil's legs. The others seemed equally affected. Alec pressed one hand to his heart, the Dalnan sign of respect for the dead. Beka sat with her hands clasped around the hilt of her sword, head bowed. Of them all, Torsin appeared most stricken by the news. Sagging in his chair, he coughed convulsively into the stained handkerchief.

"I will not see her like again," he gasped out at last.

Thero held up a letter for the others to see. "It's from Magyana, dated yesterday and written in evident haste. It reads: 'The queen died the night before last. Brave soul, she should not have survived

this long, even with our magic and healing. The darkness seems already to be closing in around us.

" 'Northern Mycena has fallen to Plenimar. Phoria has already been crowned in the field. Korathan will replace Lady Morthiana as vicegerent at Rhiminee.

" 'Against all urging, Phoria has forbidden sending this news to Klia, so I risk all that you may not be taken by surprise.

" 'I am presently out of favor and have little influence. I have not been released from service, but am no longer consulted. Korathan has her ear, but is his sister's man, as is her wizard, Organeus.

" 'Phoria has not yet ordered Klia's return, which puzzles me. She and her supporters clearly have little faith in a propitious outcome. You must impress upon Klia that she is very much on her own now.

" 'I wish I could offer you more guidance, dear boy, but things are as yet too uncertain. Illior grant that I will not be sent from the royal camp before you are all safely on your way home again. —Magyana' "

"This couldn't have come at a worse time," said Klia. "Just when we were beginning to make progress among the Haman and some of the undecided clans. How will they respond to this?"

Another coughing fit shook Torsin, doubling him over in his chair. When it passed, he wiped his lips and wheezed out, "It is difficult to predict, my lady. They know so little of Phoria."

"I'd say our greatest concern is the fact that she didn't send word herself," said Seregil. "What do you suppose prompted that lack of sisterly consideration?"

"Does the Iia'sidra know of her opposition?" asked Alec.

"I suspect some of them do," Torsin replied bleakly.

"Two days!" Klia slammed a hand down on the polished desktop, making the others jump. "Our mother dead for two days and she sends me no word? What if the Aurenfaie already know? What must they think?"

"We can find out, my lady," Alec told her. "If this was Rhiminee, Seregil and I would have paid a few night visits to your opponents already. Isn't that why the queen wanted us here in the first place?"

"Perhaps, but I'm the one who makes those decisions here," Klia warned. "For
any
Skalan to be caught spying could destroy everything we've worked for. And consider Seregil's position. What do you think would happen to him if he were caught? No, we'll wait a bit longer. Come with me to the council today, both of you. I want your impressions."

Torsin exchanged an uneasy look with Seregil, then said gently, "You mustn't go to the Iia'sidra today, my lady."

"Don't be ridiculous. Now more than ever—"

"He's right," said Seregil. Going to her, he knelt and rested a hand on her knee. This close, he could see how red her eyes were. "Mourning is a deeply sacred rite among the Aurenfaie; it can last for months. You must at least observe the Skalan four-day ritual. The same applies to me, I suppose, considering how much we've made of my kinship to your family. Alec can be my eyes and ears."

Klia rested her head on one hand and let out a shakey sigh. "You're right, of course. But Plenimar presses closer to the heart of Skala every day I'm here without an answer. This delay is the
last
thing Mother would have wanted!"

"We may be able to wring some advantage from it, all the same," Seregil assured her. "According to Aurenfaie custom, the khirnari are expected to. visit you. This could offer certain opportunities for, shall we say, private debate?"

Klia regarded him quizzically. "I can't appear publicly, yet I can scheme and intrigue from behind a veil of mourning?"

Seregil gave her a crooked grin. "That's right. I'll wager certain people will be watching quite closely to see who comes to you and how long they stay."

"Yet how are we to announce the queen's death?" Thero asked suddenly. "If it weren't for Magyana, we wouldn't even know."

"What am I supposed to do? Lie?" Klia asked, angry again. "Dissemble until our new queen sees fit to inform me of this turn of events? If lack of mourning would dishonor me in the eyes of the Iia'sidra, what would that do, eh? That could well be Phoria's purpose. By the Four, I won't be her dupe!"

"Quite right, my lady," Torsin agreed. "Your forthrightness has been our greatest asset."

"Very well, then. Lord Torsin, you'll go to the lia'sidra today and announce the queen's passing. Let Phoria worry for herself where we came by the information. Alec and Thero will accompany you, together with a full honor guard. I want a detailed report of the day's proceedings. Captain, find black sashes for your riders and see that their cloaks are reversed and the horses' manes cropped. My mother was a Skalan warrior; she'll be accorded a warrior's honors."