Prisoner (7 page)

"My sister," Sol said. "She fell sick, and the fever took her sight." Calmly Sol ate, enjoying the hearty stew made from a lingering deer he had killed the previous day. All too soon such meat would be hard to come by.

"I am sorry. What was her name?" Frustration laced the awkward words, punctuated by the way Iah fumbled to eat.

Sol took pity and switched to Illussor. "
Her name was Ariana.
" He bit back the bitter words he wanted to speak. The name was a pretty one, even if the giver had proved to be unworthy. It suited her, he had to remember that.

Silence fell, and Sol listened to the wind outside. "It is going to snow," he said in Krian. "We will have to travel quickly, or we will be caught in it." Iah nodded, and he continued. "The Winter Princess is ruthless to those who disobey her will."

"What?" Iah asked.

Sol switched back to Illussor. "
Do you know anything about Krian religion?
"

"
They worship the seasons,
" Iah said after a moment of thought. "
I've heard 'Winter Princess' before, along with 'Spring Prince,' but that's all I know.
"

"
The Autumn Prince presides over death. After the dying of all things in autumn, the Winter Princess brings a time of slumber for the living to mourn and heal until the Spring Prince coaxes Winter from her sadness, and she once again brings warmth as the Summer Princess.
"

"
I see,
" Iah said, though it was obvious from his tone he did not see at all.

Sol laughed. "
All you really need to know is that anything bad can be laid at the feet of Autumn and Winter. All good things are attributed to Spring and Summer. Technically they're the gods and goddesses of the various seasons. I don't think even the Krians know why they call them 'Prince' and 'Princess'—I would almost say it is out of affection."
Iah smiled briefly. "
The most common epithet you'll hear is—
"

"Tits of the Winter Princess!" Iah said, and the Krian rolled easily off his tongue that time. He laughed. "
That phrase I know—my men were rather fond of it. I'm afraid their image of a winter princess is probably not very Krian. I suppose it is rather more fun to say than, 'Goddess curse you!'
"

It surprised Sol when he laughed again. He smiled across the table at Iah then remembered that Iah could not see him. Sol felt a familiar pang, and for a moment he saw, not Iah, but his sister. Ariana had given up on living after she lost her vision, alive only in the barest sense when she at last died.

Not that he could blame her.

He watched Iah eat, the way his confidence grew with every successful effort. Strange to have a companion when he was used to working alone. Fitting that the companion was Illussor. When this journey concluded, he would well and truly find an end in Illussor. The closest he would ever have to home. If he did not die killing Tawn first.

"
You still have not said anything about my Krian name.
" Iah smiled ruefully. "
It's strange. I recognized your name, and indeed I would recognize a number of Salharans, but the only Krian I know by name is General von Adolwulf.
" He stumbled over the name, the sing-song syllables of his native Illussor clashing with the harder Krian.

Sol snorted in amusement. "
That is because when General von Adolwulf is around, it is hard to notice anything else. The Scarlet Wolf—
" He leaned back in his seat, tapping his spoon against the table as he thought. "
I wonder if he is still alive. Tawn voiced doubts; it was a Scream after all.
"

"
If anyone could survive a Scream, it would be the Wolf of Kria.
"

"
At least we know the Breaker survived.
"

Iah nodded. He smiled a moment later. "
You are still avoiding the matter of giving me a name. As I said before, I would pick one, but my knowledge of Krian names is limited to the Wolf. I think people might notice a resemblance.
"

"
Yes, perhaps.
" Sol managed a laugh then fell silent.

"
Is it really so hard a thing? To pick a name?
"

"
A weak name will result in a weak person.
"

"
Ridiculous.
" Iah reached carefully for his wine glass, fingertips knocking into it enough to jar, but not quite spill. He held it in both hands and sipped slowly. "
A man is weak or not; his name does not decide that.
"

"
I do not want to pick a name that does not suit.
"

"
It will suit.
"

"
Why are you so eager to take up a new name?
"

Iah touched the bandages covering his empty sockets. "
Perhaps because I no longer feel like myself. It would be nice to be someone else for a little while.
"

"
Erhard,
" Sol said it heavily, as if it meant something. "
Erhard Grau. My cousin, whom I have brought with me after a hunting accident cost him his vision. That will also account for why you may falter and speak slowly—or occasionally not at all.
"

"
Erhard,
" Iah repeated. He said it a few more times, growing comfortable with the syllables. "
And you are Lord Grau?
"

"
Alban Grau,
" Sol said. "
You will call me Alban or cousin.
" Iah nodded, and Sol continued to drill Iah on Krian culture, pausing only long enough for Mella to bring out their dessert when she returned from her walk.

*~*~*

Sleep was not forthcoming. Would he ever grow used to the permanent dark? Every morning he woke up expecting to see the sun, only to experience a moment of panic when he realized he couldn't see. That was followed by a wave of grief when he remembered he would never see again.

Only Sol and his summer voice kept the grief from consuming him. Steady and patient, the voice of a teacher or a priest. It was hard to fit it with what he knew of the soldier. Fourth General Sol deVry was well known for his magical dexterity and the burning yellow of his eyes—almost, but not quite, to the point where there would be no escaping the deadly effects of the flower the Salharans called arcen.

Doubts mingled with the fear that kept him awake. Fear for the moment of waking; doubts for his current circumstances. Only days ago he had been telling stories with his men around a campfire.

Then his commander had lost all reason, driving them into battle against a seemingly endless wave of Scarlet because he'd sensed the Breaker. Iah had felt it too at the end. Uncorrupted, untapped, and pure as forbidden crystal.

Had they really found their Breaker at last? What if the Scream had killed him? How many more years would they have to search for another? What if he had lived? Would he agree? Why should a Krian or Salharan agree to help?

But a Salharan
was
helping, and that brought more doubts to the fore. What was Sol's real game? A man who played all sides was conceivably playing more. How did a Salharan general come to know so much about what only a select few Illussor knew? Even he was not supposed to know as much as he did.

Iah shuddered and turned his mind off. Too many things. Too much of it wrong, and only the dark to turn to now. He'd never see his sister's face again, nor those of his friends. Not their graves, not their families. Never would he see his home.

An owl's call broke the still night, and Iah pulled his blankets up further. Opposite him, Sol slept soundlessly. He was as quiet in sleep as he was awake. Iah reached a hand outside the blanket, feeling the heat of the fire. Slowly he sat up and shifted and turned and fumbled until his head was nearer to the fire. Feeling the heat of it wash over him, he began to whisper softly all the Krian words he could think of, repeating them until he felt he had a grasp for how they should be properly pronounced.

There was no way anyone would think him Krian, not after only two weeks of study, but he would try, and die doing so if he must to bring the Breaker to his king. That Esta might smile again, though he would never see it, and his friends and comrades might not be as reviled by his blindness.

And, if he were honest, for that summer voice.

Gradually the words grew slower and fainter, until Iah fell asleep with Krian words half-formed on his lips.

*~*~*

"Ready, Cousin?" Sol spoke slowly, as if to a child—or a man badly injured in an accident.

"Yes," Iah said. His voice was low, and he pronounced his words carefully. There only audience currently was Mella and Sol's manservant—Dal?—but there would be no room for error later. Better to get it right from the beginning. He still felt as though he were dreaming, to be preparing for a journey into the heart of Kria. How many times had he heard his comrades and superiors bemoan their inability to breach Kria? None ever got past the Scarlet Fortress and lived for long.

He did not even begin to understand how Sol fit could fit so easily into not only Krian court life, but also apparently Illussor. Sol was tricky, no two ways about it. Spiegel—mirror. Interesting that his countrymen had given their Salharan spy a Krian name. No doubt it was part of the game.

A sharp wind blew up, and Iah felt homesick. In only a month or so the palace would be half-buried in snow. Esta would insist on dragging him out and do her very best to see they froze to death doing things normally reserved for children. Iah forced the thoughts aside and focused on the tasks at hand. Carefully he held out a hand, quelling the relief that sprang up when Sol gently took it and guided him toward the waiting horse.

He would miss horse-riding, for there was no way he could ever do it solo. That was another pang to be shoved aside for later, however; there was no time for such things at present. Sol helped him up, steadying him until Iah felt comfortably settled, then mounted behind him. He spoke rapidly in Krian to Mella, though most of the words were lost on Iah. To his left he heard Dal mount his own horse and seconds later they were off.

"What is the view?" As Sol began to talk in slow, careful Krian, Iah felt himself relax despite the frustration that tried to rise when he was forced to ask Sol to repeat things. Sol was patient, however, and bit by bit Iah began to understand what was being described.

Snow—with the promise of more from the clouds above; trees—the sort that were green in winter; smoke in the distance from villages and towns; and little more than a shadow—the city where the Krian emperor lived in spring and summer. The land was rolling, up and down and very seldom flat.

"We travel due north for a bit then we turn and go west. That will take us past the Summer Palace and on toward the Winter Palace, where we will meet up with the king and his court. If we attempted to go to the Summer Palace, we would find ourselves very alone." Sol laughed.

Iah smiled despite himself. "How do you move so easily?" he asked in halting Krian. Iah had been studying during the three days before they had finally left the cottage. He had another fourteen to get a solid grasp of it. "In this country, I mean."

"Many years of study," Sol replied. "I studied the languages for years before I become a soldier, and one cannot study a language without learning about the culture. I know enough about a lot that I can get by in many a situation. The skill was enough to make me a Brother of the Seven Star," he spoke levelly, but there was bitterness beneath the calm that Iah could not miss.

"People trust you easily, don't they?"

Sol was silent for a moment, obviously startled. "Yes. I suppose so. Certainly you did not protest as I thought you would."

"I have little choice," Iah said, but he knew that wasn't all of it. Sol inspired trust, even when a man didn't want to give it. Iah was already doing it himself, no matter how hard he tried to catch himself. He wondered what would become of his homeland if Sol proved ultimately to be only a loyal Salharan.

After another silence, Sol resumed speaking in Illussor. It made Iah dizzy, how smoothly he switched between three such different languages. Clearly he'd been blessed with a sharp ear and clever tongue. It was little wonder his magical ability was said to be impressive. "
As we're merely minor nobility from the country, having weapons is not expected of us. Not all Krians can be soldiers, after all. That is fortunate for us, as all my skill cannot duplicate the Krian style of fighting. However, on that note, a lack of general knowledge will give us away just as quickly. Even the poorest peasant knows the difference between a long sword, a short sword, a dagger, and so on.

"
First and foremost, you should always make note of someone's weapon the first time you meet him. Obviously you will not be able to say much, but you can ask what manner of sword a man bears and the sword's name. Compliment the name—say it's pretty, strong, anything of that sort.
"