Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) (34 page)

The age difference between them had never mattered unless Razem and Azmei were around. When it was just the two brothers, Arisanat was Venra's protector but also his conspirator. He had gone along with Venra's harebrained schemes partly for fun and partly to keep him safe. They had laughed together and teased each other. And fought, yes, as any brothers did, but they had always made up, and no one had supported Arisanat more than Venra.

Arisanat had never really minded being outside their threesome when they were together, though. He'd seen how devoted Razem was to Venra and had approved. And Azmei adored both boys, looking up to them and imitating them. Razem had found her annoying, as any little sister might be, but Venra had worshiped the ground she walked on. When they were young, it was innocent friendship, but as they grew up, Arisanat had seen the way Venra's feelings for her deepened, and he had worried.

The hoped-for agreement between Rija Burojan and Razem had never come about. Razem might have been willing, but Rija hadn't. She had fallen in love with the eldest son of their quarry foreman, and though the man was a commoner, he was clever and industrious. Arisanat had seen his father's disappointment when Rija confessed the truth, but by then her talent with the stone was showing itself. Their father had seen the sense in keeping her at the quarries to assist Arisanat, and he had blessed Rija's marriage.

Perhaps their father had also seen Venra's feelings for Azmei, though Arisanat never found out one way or the other. Their father had died before they had a chance to test it.

He realized suddenly that his glass was empty. With a sigh, he went to the wine cabinet and poured himself another. Why not? He would likely have few chances to indulge in the coming months. He carried the bottle back to the chair along with his glass.

Venra had finally confided in Arisanat a few days before he left to begin his first assignment in the Kreyden. He'd been home on leave, saying his farewells and making arrangements for his things to be sent to Rivarden after him.

"I know Father isn't happy about Razem and Rija," Venra had said. He was lazing on his bed, head hanging upside down from the edge. It was a warm day at the beginning of summer, and Arisanat had slipped away from his duties and his wife to spend the afternoon with his brother. He'd been half dozing when Venra spoke. He sat up and looked over at his little brother, but Venra's eyes were closed. "She wouldn't have been happy in the palace, though. I'm glad Father realized it."

Arisanat nodded. "She's happier with Fenla. She couldn't have had the freedom to sculpt if she'd become queen."

Venra was quiet for a few heartbeats. "Do you think..." He trailed off, and Arisanat realized his brother was blushing. Or perhaps that was simply the blood rushing to his head from hanging upside down. "That is...Would Father still be happy to tie our family to the Corrone, do you think?"

Arisanat had known this day would come. He'd half dreaded it, even though he wanted his little brother to be happy. He'd seen the way Venra watched Azmei when they were together. These past few years, it had changed. It was pure devotion, and it was sweet and true, but Arisanat had no idea what the king planned for Azmei. Royal children were for treaties—but then, King Marsede had fallen madly in love with Lady Izbel from the Fifth Family, all those years ago when he made her his queen. Everyone knew the stories. Perhaps Marsede would be sympathetic to young love.

"Why wouldn't Father like it?" Arisanat said aloud. No need for Venra to know about his doubts. Not yet. At least Venra had been spared an arranged marriage. Arisanat had done his duty, and he'd grown to care for his wife. Just last week she had announced that he was going to be a father. It took the pressure off of Venra.

Still, Arisanat was sure of Venra's feelings, but he wasn't sure of Azmei's. He'd never seen her look at Venra with anything but love...but it was love for a friend, love for a cousin, as far as Arisanat could tell. He'd never pressed her on the matter. He didn't feel it was his business. And he would never in a million years have asked Razem about it. Azmei was a sweet girl, but she was young, and she still seemed to think there should be quests and romance in life. What if she refused Venra's suit because she was still too childish to see the value in it?

Venra sighed. "I just wondered."

"I don't know, Ven. I think it would please Father." He paused and licked his lips. "Have you spoken to Azmei about this?"

Venra was definitely blushing. He sat up, turning his face away from Arisanat. "No. I don't think she's ready to hear it. She...she's still so absorbed in her books. I think she lives half her life in her imagination." He laughed awkwardly and shrugged. "I don't mind."

Arisanat sat back against the wall, relieved. At least Venra didn't have any unrealistic expectations. Arisanat should have realized he wouldn't. Ven was a smart young man, able to keep the end goal in mind while dealing with the plans along the way.

"I'd thought I would wait until I've done my first year in the desert." Venra was fidgeting with something. "I want to see what it's like. Make sure she would like it. I—I've heard Rivarden is pretty."

Arisanat smiled. "The Desert Jewel, they call it." His heart ached for his brother. He deserved every good thing. "You...Marriage isn't easy, Ven. It's good, I mean. But...well, you know you don't have to marry, right?"

Venra was staring at him. "You're so happy. I know you and Janira didn't choose each other, but you love each other now. And...And I love Azmei, Aris. I don't know if I could stand to see her wed some other man. Gods—imagine if they tried to arrange a treaty through Anderlin! It would kill me."

Arisanat nodded, throat tight. He wanted to hug his brother. "I know. I mean, I thought you loved her. I just—wanted to be sure you know it isn't your duty."

Venra shook his head. "How could Azmei ever be a duty?" he breathed.

Arisanat came back to the present and realized his cheeks were wet, though he was smiling. So much devotion, all for Azmei.

"And as soon as Venra was buried, she let them sell her to Amethir," he snarled. Gods, it had hurt to sign the Perslyn contract. He'd loved her so much, for his own sake as well as his brother's. But she had failed them. Just like Marsede. Just like Razem.

"Tomorrow, Venra," Arisanat whispered. "Tomorrow we will end this charade."

Part Three - Rebellion

Chapter 25

Hawk sat with his back to the fire, gazing out into the darkness. The heat was a pleasant wall against his back, allowing him to enjoy the coolness of the desert night on his face. He could hear the other two moving around behind him, but he didn't want to ruin his night vision by turning to watch them. He had nothing to fear from either of them, anyway. He was more worried about another attack. What if more than one mercenary band had been hired to kill him? What would they do if they realized he was in the company of the princess?

He shook his head. Of all the bizarre things that had happened in his life, this had to be the most bizarre. To leave the prince on an errand for the crown only to discover a princess who was supposed to be three years dead—it almost defied belief. But that was fate for you. The gods were laughing in their sleep.

A rustle beside him made him look up. Princess Azmei crouched next to him, holding out a clay mug with thick walls. "Mulled wine," she said. "With something to take the edge off the pain. I've seen you favoring the arm."

"I don't want my senses dulled," he said, not reaching for it.

Her brows pulled together. She didn't withdraw the mug. "Have some faith, Hawk. I have spent the past three years training with the Shadow Diplomats. Do you think we want our senses dulled as we try to complete a peace mission?"

He narrowed his eyes but accepted the mug. "Shadow Diplomats? I've not heard of them." For that matter, she hadn't been very forthcoming about
how
she was alive when she was supposed to be three years dead.

She gave him that crooked smile that had charmed him before. "Very few have. I probably ought to swear you to secrecy before I tell you, but..." She shrugged and sat on the ground next to him. "We have a few minutes before the meat is ready."

He sniffed the wine, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He took a tentative sip. A few moments later, he felt the muscles of his back relax as the throbbing in his arm and head eased. He felt her watching him, but to her credit, the princess didn't tease him about being wrong.

"When Orya Perslyn attacked me," she began, her voice low, "I was badly injured. There's no denying that I nearly died. But there are healers in Ranarr who put ours to shame. They saved my life, but we hadn't eliminated the threat to my life. Or, worse, to my brother's life. I thought it best to play dead until we got to the source of the contract on my life. But I couldn't stand to be idle, so I asked the Shadow Diplomat who saved my life to take me as his apprentice." She lifted a mug to her lips and took a tiny sip. "Master Tanvel was the best assassin sworn to the Shadow Council. The Shadow Diplomats serve the peace god, just like all Ranarri. But they serve him in a somewhat more direct way."

Her gaze was on the darkness, so Hawk allowed himself to watch her more closely. There was strength in the lines of her face, and sadness. He wished he could somehow have spared her from the sadness, but he knew the strength must have been born of that sadness.

"Master Tanvel agreed to take me as his apprentice, and so for the past three years I have learned the art of killing while we try to find out who hired the assassins to kill me."

Hawk swallowed. "I...Princess, I told you there had been an attack. I didn't tell you that it was on—"

"My father?" She looked up at him and smiled, her lips curving wistfully. "I know, Hawk. Master Tanvel anticipated it. He stayed behind in Tamnen City to prevent it while he sent me to Meekin to deal with the Perslyns." She bowed her head, black hair swinging forward to hide her eyes. "He stayed in Tamnen City to die while I went to Meekin to earn my own mastery."

"What?"

"You needn't censure me. I tried to argue with him, and I failed. I assure you I have censured myself far more than anyone else could." She shook her head and tilted her face back to look up at the stars. Hawk saw the glitter of tears at the corner of her eyes. "Tanvel saved my life and taught me so much, and the only way I could repay him was to follow his orders and let him die." She sighed. "We knew it was someone in Tamnen. Strid wasn't responsible for my assassination. But we didn't know who."

"Someone in Tamnen," Hawk repeated. He'd forgotten his wine, but Azmei reached over and lifted his mug for him. He took an obedient sip. "You think it was one of the noble families?"

"It seems likely." Her voice was weary. "I'm certain it's one of the Nine. Not Ilzi, of course. She wouldn't. And Lady Riman is above reproach. But..." She trailed off and lowered her head. When she spoke again, her voice was very soft. "But I fear very much that it's Aris, and that will break my brother's heart."

"Aris?" Hawk demanded. "Arisanat Burojan?"

She lifted her head to look at him. "You know him."

"He was with us." Hawk blinked. "He came to Salishok with your brother, and rode with us to Rivarden. He blamed me for his brother's death. I—I served under Lord Venra, before I was captured."

"How could it be your fault Venra died?" Hawk didn't miss the way her voice caught on Venra's name. "You were already in Strid. You were captured in the Push, weren't you? That was...two years at least, before Venra died."

"Three." Hawk sipped his wine again. It was cooling quickly. "I misspoke. He didn't blame me for Venra's death, exactly. But he blamed me for living when Venra did not."

She bowed her head again. They were silent for a long time. "Do you think Arisanat is capable of hiring assassins?"

Hawk swallowed. "Your highness, that is just the question I asked myself when you asked me who wanted me dead."

There was nothing else to say after that. They sat in silence until he finished his wine. Then Princess Azmei took his mug from him, cool fingers grazing his and sending a flash of heat up his arm. She rose and went back to tend the fire.

"The meat is done," she said. "Yarro, are you awake?"

He heard her shaking the boy. He'd been in a stupor most of the afternoon, though he'd roused once to tell them to go around Rivarden and again when they stopped for the evening. Hawk supposed that great beast Yarro rode must be more docile than he looked, or else he must love the boy more than anything else. He hadn't misplaced a foot all afternoon.

With a sigh, Hawk stood. His arm had subsided to a dull ache, he realized. Whatever she had given him, it was effective, but he didn't feel dizzy or drowsy the way he was used to with painkillers.

When he sat down by the fire, Azmei handed him a plate. "Thank you for the hare," she said. "It'll make our supplies last longer."

He took the plate, nodding. He began eating as she turned to shake Yarro once more before giving up. She set the boy's plate near him and came back to sit a few feet from Hawk at the fire.

"Why are we going this way? Won't we run into trade from the mines? They're southeast of Rivarden somewhere, according to my map."

"We shouldn't." Hawk smiled. "You may have maps, Princess, but this is where I grew up. There are mines all along the foothills here, south and southeast and east of the city, but I know paths that are seldom used by the miners. There are a few villages up in the hills to the east of here."

"And south?"

He stiffened. "Not south." To the south was the Shrouded Vale, and he'd grown up with nightmares about the tales of that valley. People didn't go that way. Those who did never returned. Hawk forced himself to relax. "The route around the city is longer to the southeast, but we'll have more game if we stick to the foothills." He took a bite of the hare and reflected how odd it was that a princess should be able to dress and roast her own game. "More water, too," he added.

Azmei lapsed into silence as they ate. When they had reached the stage where they were picking shreds off the bones and licking their fingers, Hawk ventured a question. "I thought you said his business was in Rivarden. Why did he tell us to take you around?"

She glanced over at Yarro, who still hadn't roused from his trance. He was rocking slightly in place, and if Hawk watched long enough, he realized the boy must be rocking in time with his heartbeat. Or perhaps the heartbeat of whatever sent those visions of his.

Azmei sighed. "I might as well tell you what I know. I don't think he'll fully wake up until we get there."

"Get where?"

"Listen. You know he has visions. He left Meekin to get away from his family, but he was following those visions. I think he's trying to find them. Whoever sends those visions."

Hawk looked down at his empty mug and reached for a water skin. "This doesn't seem like the wisest path, Princess. Are you sure—"

"Stop calling me that," she said tightly. "I'd rather you just call me Aevver and forget what I told you completely."

"How do you propose I forget that you are my dead liege, returned to us after years of mourning?"

"You weren't even in Tamnen," she snapped. Hawk fell silent. He shouldn't have argued with her. She might be a skilled warrior and capable of dressing out her own game, but she was still a princess. No matter what she said, he could never forget that fact, and he shouldn't.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "That was unkind."

Hawk shrugged. "It was the truth."

Azmei smiled wryly at him. "I've met very few kind truths. I'm sorry, Hawk."

"My lady." He held her gaze, hoping she would see that he took no offense.

They lapsed into a companionable silence. After a while, Azmei refilled his mug. She didn't speak, but he could see it was another dose of the painkiller. He didn't think he needed it. When he glanced over at her, she was looking past him. He turned and saw that Yarro's eyes were open.

"Where are we?" the boy asked.

Azmei crawled over to him and held out the mug. "East of Rivarden. You told us to go around." She pressed the mug into his hands without touching him. "Drink this. It'll help your leg."

"It doesn't hurt as much. We can't stop, Aevver—" He broke off, his face twisting. He didn't refuse the mug, but he pulled away from her and closed his eyes.

Azmei sighed and withdrew. Hawk wondered why it hurt her so much that the boy was angry. How long had they been together, these two? It couldn't have been too long, if she'd been in Tamnen City with Master Tanvel just a short time ago. Gods, what a convoluted mess this all was.

Yarro drank the wine without speaking to either of them. Hawk turned his back to the fire again, relishing the warmth and letting his vision readjust to the night. He heard Yarro eating. The horses shifted drowsily where they were tethered. Somewhere in the darkness a desert fox yipped. Hawk smiled. He'd always been fond of the big-eared foxes. They were shy and had been known to raid the fowl villagers bred, but there was something fierce and endearing about their loyalty to their families.

"We have enough food and water for another week. Two if we drink sparingly," Azmei said. She came over to sit next to him again. "I'd planned to resupply in Rivarden. I just...I don't like to upset him."

Hawk glanced sidelong at her. "Too late for that, I think."

She rubbed her forehead. "I don't need to make it worse."

***

The Voices wouldn't leave Yar alone. They were always in his head now, sometimes as a whisper, sometimes as a rumble, sometimes as a hiss. They didn't always speak with words, but he had to concentrate to filter out the singing of their Voices in order to hear anything Azmei and Hawk said to him. That was all right, though. Yar didn't want to hear anything Azmei said.

Azmei—the princess. The woman who had his sister killed. Why had she lied to him?

NEVER MIND THAT, LITTLE BROTHER. HURRY. TIME RUNS TOO FAST FOR YOUR LITTLE LIVES. COME TO US. FOLLOW OUR CALL.

He rubbed at his forehead. Their Voices were always in his head, but they weren't as enveloping as they used to be. He could feel his body, could see where he was going. He could hear Azmei and Hawk talking, faintly. Yar wasn't sure if this was better or worse than having them take over his entire consciousness. At least this way he might know if there was some danger. He might not hurt himself again like he had his calf.

But he couldn't ignore the nagging headache, either.

"Do you think there's a storm coming? The sky's so much darker to the south," Azmei said. Hawk answered, but Yar didn't hear his reply; it was blotted out by a flash of rage. How dare she lie to him?

Laughter boomed through his head. WE TOLD YOU, LITTLE BROTHER. TOLD YOU SHE HAD SECRETS. YOU DIDN'T CARE.

DIDN'T CARE, snickered the Slithery Voice.

DIDN'T CARE, echoed half a dozen other Voices.

Well, I do now,
Yar thought at all of them. He stared down at his hands, folded on the pommel of his saddle. Firefoot's steps were smooth, making a comforting thump on the sandy rock underfoot.

SILLY MORTALS, one of the Voices teased. NEVER LET ANYTHING GO DESPITE YOUR SHORT LIVES.

SHE LOVES YOU AS ORYA DID, said the Wise Uncle Voice. WE SEE THAT NOW.

She
killed
Orya!
Yar thought, furious.

NO. SHE CAME SEEKING YOU. ASK HER.

Yar shook his head and clapped his hands over his ears. For all the good it did him. He could still feel their laughter. He could still hear the singing. His head throbbed.