Restoration (72 page)

“Your destiny still awaits,” I said, smiling as I passed him another packet of the powdered roots. “You'll find your way. I have faith in you. More than ever.”

He knew exactly what I meant by this, and as ever when he thought of our duel, he grew somber and tried to ask forgiveness. I did my best to reassure him. He had kept faith as I had counted on him to do. In the end he had not needed to kill me as I had intended, but if things had fallen out differently, the world would have been glad of his service.

As to any further explanations, he knew better than to press. Always he would ask how my healing progressed, and I would say, “Improving.” He would look at me and judge, and then make some pointed comment: “You need to drink more nazrheel,” or “A woman in your bed would be the best exercise for your arm,” or “I'll expect a footrace to that oak and back on my next visit, and this time I'll trounce your sorry bones.” We would laugh, and he would go, promising to come again when the war permitted. The light still shone in him, brighter than ever.

On the day of the spring equinox, the Aveddi of Azhakstan, the firstborn of the desert, rode down the Emperor's Road toward Zhagad. A white cloak billowed from his shoulders, and his red braid was wound with wooden beads. He wore no adornment that might signify rank, and indeed, he claimed no rank, not even on this, the day of his triumph. On his flanks rode Yulai and Magda, the King and Queen of the Manganar, and their son Terlach; Marouf, the Palatine of Suzai, and his five sons; and W‘Osti, the Thrid chieftain and his war leader D'Skaya. On the Aveddi's immediate left rode his cousin Kiril zha Ramiell, leading the first lords of more than fifty Derzhi families, along with the Yvor Lukash, his face painted black with white daggers, and a tall woman, her face painted likewise. On the Aveddi's right rode his wife, Lydia, carrying their infant son on her back as the women of the desert have done since ancient days. The child was yet unnamed, for his father was at war, and Derzhi custom forbade naming a child in wartime, lest the child be marked with death.

And, yes, just behind the Aveddi rode a man in a gray cloak, a slender man that few could name, his black hair showing signs of gray. Though he wore no weapon and seemed quite ordinary, many of the Aveddi's company watched him warily. I had asked to observe the day's events from the gate tower, pleading lingering illness, but Aleksander would not hear of it, saying that any man who was running three leagues through the Kuvai hills every morning could not claim weakness. He wanted me with him.

Behind this noble vanguard rode five thousand men and women from every corner of the land. Uncounted thousands more stood along the roadside, hung over the city walls or out of windows, or lined the streets within the royal city. No musicians or jugglers or dancers were performing. No hawkers or vendors plied their trades with paltry tokens of celebration. This day was solemn ... a day of judgment and witness.

Awaiting the Aveddi on a hurriedly built dais at the gates of Zhagad stood a small figure dressed in a green gown, a circlet of gold banding her forehead and her short dark hair. I smiled as I noted her almost imperceptible fidgeting. Fiona had worn men's clothing for most of her life; she hated skirts. On either side of her stood a man dressed in a dark blue cloak trimmed in silver, each carrying a silver knife sheathed at his side-the two young Wardens, Drych and Huiel.

As the Aveddi's party approached the gates, Fiona stepped forward and raised her arms. Slowly, from the sand to either side of her, rose twin white poles, and from them banners unfurled, white, sewn with the likeness of a dark green tree, a silver dagger, and a small oval mirror—the Queen's banner of Ezzaria, which had never flown in view of the world outside our borders. Tears pricked my eyes.

“Greetings to this noble assembly from the Queen and the Mentors' Council of Ezzaria.” Her voice could be heard by every man and woman present—striking even deeper awe into the onlookers. “What seek you at the gates of Zhagad?”

“Tidings of justice, gracious Queen,” spoke Aleksander, “and our lands' peace.”

“Then hear me, honored petitioners,” said Fiona. “The tyrant Edik, whom we have judged guilty of crimes too numerous and too terrible to speak on this fair day, is dead by our device, as are the First Lords of Hamrasch, Rhyzka, Nyabozzi, and Gorusch, who have carried out the tyrant's wickedness upon the people of your lands. Seven and forty lower-ranking commanders and nobles we have judged to have deliberately and murderously executed the tyrant's will, and upon these accused we have placed a bane of sorcery. They have been sent forth upon the roads of this land impoverished, forbidden to have contact with their kinsmen, forbidden to settle in any place for more than a day, their magical bonds preventing all speech and hearing until the day they are adjudged repentant for their deeds or they are dead. Those who wish to see them punished should refrain from a moment's pleasurable vengeance. Rather watch them live and learn of what they've done. As you have recommended, Aveddi, the remaining nobles and common soldiers who have participated in these crimes have been dispersed and given our parole, enjoined to seek the forgiveness of their countrymen by word and deed, lest they too be subject to our penalties. We have marked their names and will be watching.”

Fiona spread her arms and touched the shoulders of her Wardens. “Know this, petitioners,” she said. “For a thousand years my people have given of themselves to ward human souls from demon ravaging, yet we neglected the true demons that live here in our world, even those who tormented our own brothers and sisters. Never again, Aveddi. We swear to you and to this mighty assembly that from this day forward, we will be vigilant.”

As the crowd murmured its wonder and approval, Aleksander nodded and motioned Yulai and Marouf and W‘Osti forward. “Then my mission is done, Lady, and I yield the leadership of these forces to those whose rightful place it is.” He held out his hand to his wife, and they withdrew their mounts behind the three rulers. But Fiona held up her hand to stay him, and silenced the swelling voices of the crowd.

“You have come here today as a war leader, Aveddi, forswearing all state beyond victory in the name of these who follow you. You have raised the banners of these rightful rulers as they reclaim sovereignty of their own lands. But what of Azhakstan itself? For five hundred years, the Derzhi kingdom of Azhakstan has perpetrated crimes against these brother kings and their subjects. And before the sun sets on this day of judgment, the matter of your own history must be considered. You were once the voice and hand of a cruel empire, sharing in the miseries it created, heir to its tyrant's throne, and so you, too, must submit yourself for sentencing. What say you all, noble kings and princes?”

Shouts of agreement rang out from every side.

Fiona gave Aleksander no opportunity to protest. “If you accept your culpability in these matters and yield your future to the wisdom of this company, then dismount, Aveddi, and stand before me, as a sign to us that you indeed abjure rank and privilege and right of birth.”

Aleksander hesitated only long enough to lay his hand on that of his wife and on the head of his sleeping son. Then he slipped gracefully from his steed and walked forward, only the set of his jaw and a slight flush betrayed any ruffling of composure. The crowd gasped as one as he unsheathed his sword, and breathed again when he laid it across Fiona's outstretched hands. Though his head was unbowed and his lean form towered over Fiona, any observer would know which of the two was supplicant.

The young Queen nodded in satisfaction, and her voice soared through the bright morning. “The Ezzarian Council has considered the matter of Aleksander, once heir to the Derzhi Empire, and has taken counsel from these assembled lords of Manganar and Suza, of Thrid and Kuvai and Fryth, and all the lands that the Empire once claimed, and we have spoken with these noble Derzhi who have pledged life and honor to right the wrongs of the past. Aleksander Jenyazar Ivaneschi zha Denischkar, have you anything to say in your own defense?”

Aleksander shook his head.

Fiona nodded and continued. “Because the Derzhi have broken the ordering of the world, so must the Derzhi repair it. Because the Derzhi have stolen their neighbors' wealth, so must now the Derzhi return their good service to these same neighbors. And as the Derzhi have assaulted their neighbors, so must they now stand in their neighbors' defense. To repair and serve and defend, so must Azhakstan be strong and capable of bearing such responsibility. Therefore, the Council has decided that the Derzhi Kingdom of Azhakstan will stand, with boundaries as writ in this map from ancient times before the bloat of empire. As repair for past injustice, the Kingdom of Azhakstan shall claim no seat of power, no royal capital; Zhagad and Capharna will now be as any other city, with no restriction and no preference in trade or residence. The imperial palaces will be sealed by my hand, their continued existence a reminder of greed and tyranny. And to rule this kingdom, an Azhaki king or queen shall be named by the Derzhi tribe's good counsel and serve with the consent of the neighboring rulers, the candidate's own strength and wisdom to be his or her only recommendation.”

Fiona pointed toward Kiril and the Derzhi, and so forceful was her query, I thought flame might shoot from her fingertip. “Noble lords of the Derzhi hegeds, who say you all should be the First of Azhakstan to lead you in this service of redemption?”

As one voice, the Derzhi lords cried, “Aleksander!”

Then Fiona swept her arm across the multitudes and cried out, “And you who are owed this service and defense, would you have this Aleksander, the Aveddi, firstborn of Azhakstan, become your Protector?”

And the ayes rang out in thunderous splendor, echoing across the desert, joined with shouts of “Aleksander!” and “Aveddi!”

Fiona nodded. “So be it. We render this judgment: Aleksander zha Denischkar, at dawn tomorrow, if you be willing, you shall be anointed and crowned King of Azhakstan and Protector of the Living Kingdoms, charged to spend your remaining days, not in aggrandizing your own realm, but in rebuilding and defending these which you have helped rebirth.” She offered Aleksander his sword. “Will you serve, Aveddi?”

Aleksander reclaimed his weapon, and in a voice as clear as the desert morning and as strong as a paraivo, gave his answer. “I will. By mighty Athos' head, I will.”

The cheering could have been heard all the way to Kir‘-Vagonoth.

 

And so came the time for me to look to the future.

In the mild evening of the day of judgment and witness, Aleksander asked Fiona and me to accompany him to Drafa, where he would keep vigil in the holy city on the eve of his coronation as had been the custom of the ancient kings of Azhakstan. Qeb stood waiting by the tamarisk grove, unsurprised as we rode out of the desert, his sightless eyes as brilliant as the starlight. As he led Aleksander to his cave, a solemn, wide-eyed girl-child of six or seven years guided his steps.

After Sarya and Manot had their fill of smiles and weeping at our return, and a quick approving assessment of Fiona, the two old women took up a guard beside the cave entrance, and Fiona and I strolled through the ruined city. We talked of Catrin and Hoffyd and their child, expected any day, of old Talar and her new school of forest lore, of friends and pairings, weather and trees.

But Fiona was not one to shy away from more personal conversation. As the hour grew late and we crested the rise, dragging our fingers over the fallen stone lion, she looked up at me expectantly. “And now of you, my friend and mentor. How are things with you?”

“Improving overall,” I said. In most ways, at least, that was true. Time and quiet living had done me a world of good. “Having the chance to be with Evan has been the best medicine.”

“And his mother, too?”

I glanced quickly at Fiona to see what she was asking. Few things could make my face hot anymore, and I kept telling myself that Elinor should not be one of them. Despite the pleas antries of the last months, some things were impossible. “I could ask no better loving for Evan,” I said. “And she has helped me immeasurably. Did you note that I can hold a wineglass now? And speak a whole sentence without forgetting who and where I am?”

To my relief, Fiona's question was innocent and quickly past. “It's fine to see your arm stronger, and that you've put on enough weight to cast a shadow. But back in Kuvai, when I examined you, you said that you might need something from me later, and I had the notion that it might be something important. Is there anything I can do for you before I go home?”

My steps slowed with a burden I had explained to no one and wasn't sure if or when I could. “Only one thing. Someday ... I'd like to come back to Ezzaria.”

She burst out laughing, but sobered quickly when she looked at my face. “Why ever would you need to ask?”

“Last time I heard, I was forbidden on pain of death to return. You've seen for yourself that I am demon-joined. And you don't yet fully understand what I was those months in Tyrrad Nor or what I could have become.”

She pulled my head down and kissed the top of it. “Gods above, foolish man, I trust you beyond anyone I know. Ezzaria is your home. We will be honored by your coming.”

 

I was gratified by Fiona's trust and acceptance, but I came to the conclusion that I could not take advantage of it. Not yet. I yearned for Ezzaria's green embrace, the peace and healing I believed existed in its hills and forests. But I could not abandon my child and his mother. This decision was not based solely on my desire to remain near Evan, but on hard reality.

The world had changed from top to bottom. Aleksander was a king without a palace, and would need to learn how to live and work within the bounds of his new role. He would spend a great deal of time outside of his own kingdom, seeing to the borders and the safety of those he served. His wealth was now limited to his personal holdings in Azhakstan, and he had already asked the lords of the Mardek to determine how to divest him and other Derzhi of the houses and lands they could no longer afford. Kiril was to be the commander of the young King's troops, charged with retraining Derzhi warriors to be defenders and not conquerors, and Blaise was no longer the Yvor Lukash, but Aleksander's First Dennissar, the King's personal representative to the adjoining kingdoms. Blaise's outlaws were returning to their towns and villages; everyone who had depended on the outlaw band for sustenance was going to have to find a place to live and new means of support. That included Elinor. Our refugee encampment in Kuvai was already half deserted, so I'd heard.