The Fire Mages' Daughter (9 page)

“I want to know all about the Blood Clans,” I told them. “Specifically, their ability with beasts. I would like to know how they do that.”

The mages were dubious. “It is outside our domain,” they said. “Unless they use magic…”

“Maybe they do,” I said impatiently. “Find out. Bring me any books you have that refer to the subject.”

They bowed low, and scuttled away to their libraries. They found me a handful of books describing clan history, which I read avidly. I’d missed that, since I’d left the scribery, that deep immersion in books, sitting up half the night jumping from one to another, tying together details from one account with another. But there was little in these books to tie together. The Blood Clans rode into battle atop lions and bears, it was said, and the beasts’ ferocity was such that enemies turned and fled. It was not much to go on, but there had to be more somewhere. The library was vast. Clearly, I would have to find the necessary books myself.

But now that Ly-haam would arrive in Kingswell at any moment, the project had become urgent. I needed to know everything I could about him and his people, and quickly. I abandoned the books, and turned directly to the scholars.

One of the scholars specialised in Blood Clan research. He was so wizened, I was afraid he might fall over at any moment, yet he insisted on standing when he was brought before me.

“The beasts… we do not know how they control them, Highness, but it is so. Wolves, I have seen, and smaller animals, too, weasels and foxes and the like. Lions… that is well-documented, although I have not seen it myself. And birds of various kinds.”

“Tell me about the blood ceremony.”

“Ah, now that is documented in many places. There is a coming-of-age ceremony when a child attains the age of fifteen. It is very simple, in fact. The child cuts his hand, one of the elders cuts
his
hand, they exchange blood. It is called the Blood-Giving Ceremony, when the child is given the blood of the ancestors.”

“But what is the purpose of that?”

“It is a ritual, Highness. The purpose is symbolic, nothing more.”

I wasn’t so sure of that, but I didn’t pursue it. “What about this boy god of theirs?”

“Ah, now that is something which happens very rarely. A child is born in whom, they say,
‘the blood runs true’.
They claim he has the pure blood of the ancestors. He is destined to be a great leader, that is the theory. And naturally, since they all believe it, so it comes to pass.”

“Then he has no special powers?”

“None at all, Highness. But you have seen the current
byan shar
. You may judge for yourself whether he has or not.”

It was not very helpful. If I knew whether Ly-haam had special powers, I would hardly be asking the scholars for advice.

Now he was on his way to Kingswell. Yannassia had sent a troop of Elite Guards to take care of him, and a carriage to convey him in proper style, but he refused the carriage and even the offer of a horse. He would walk all the way.

And he came alone.

~~~~~

As we waited for him to walk the many marks from the border, business went on as usual. Yannassia was holding a reception one sun, a very dull affair to welcome a new diplomat from the Nyi-Harn. I was only there because I had to be, smiling and making polite conversation with a couple of young noblemen who were vying for my favour. I’d long since ceased to find such competitions amusing. Instead, I was watching Zandara play two merchants against each other. She was rather good at keeping her face expressionless, just like her mother. Even her eyes, bulbous like a frog, were completely blank.

Another group moved in front of her to block my view, and my thoughts began to wander. As they did so, I was aware of three minds far, far above. By instinct, I looked upwards, but there was nothing to see except the very ornate plasterwork of the ceiling and a gold-encrusted chandelier. These minds were a long way above the Keep.

I focused on one of them, and became aware of air currents, of rising warmth, of massively strong wings and feathers ruffled in the breeze.

An eagle. And two more alongside. Ly-haam’s eagles, I knew. He was no more than two or three suns from the city, but he had sent his birds ahead to scout out the land. They were lazily circling at a great height, no more than distant specks from the ground, no doubt.

Could I enter their minds, as I did with the rats, and look down on Kingswell from their great height? I stretched out my mind, just as I had learned to do with the rats.

A sudden flick of perception, and there below me was the shimmering golden glow of the Imperial City between the arms of Candle Mountain. In front of it, the solid red mass of the Keep, with the gardens in the centre, the fruit trees a blur of reds and oranges and golds. And surrounding the two, the dark stain of the city proper, with all its myriad houses and shops and craft halls and warehouses and stables and yards and a few green spots, where the wealthier citizens owned enough land for a little square of garden.

But as I gazed through the eagle’s eyes, I became aware of another mind altogether. A human mind, this time, connected to the eagle just as I was.

Ly-haam. And he was terrified.

Poor Ly-haam! Whatever the truth of the Blood Clans’ way of life, he was surely not accustomed to the high stone buildings and teeming roads of Bennamore. It took great bravery to make his way to Kingswell alone, but it was no surprise that the experience overwhelmed him. I could help, and perhaps a familiar face would raise his spirits.

After hastily summoning an escort and leaving a cryptic message for Yannassia, I rode out to meet him. By riding hard all afternoon, we caught up with him just an hour or so beyond Wemborth.

He wasn’t difficult to find. Traffic on the road was crawling at moundrat pace for many marks, so that we had to ride on the verge to get past. Wagons of vegetables, piglets and geese, all heading for the autumn lantern festival in Wemborth. There were public wagons, too, crowded with travellers, and a few private carriages. And it wasn’t the press of traffic which slowed them, it was the sight of a nondescript man accompanied by an entire troop of the Drashona’s Elite Guard that caused every passer-by to slow to walking pace and stare at the spectacle.

Poor Ly-haam. He was sitting on a marker stone beside the road, his head hanging low. Beyond him, the captains of the honour guard sent to accompany him had dismounted and were in animated discussion. With the sun low in the sky, they had stopped beside a sprawling inn set back from the road, with open fields behind for the excess horses, if the stables were too small. Plenty of room for everyone. Yet if they carried on, they would end up in Wemborth, in the middle of the lantern festival, and no accommodation anywhere. Not a difficult decision. Yet no move was made towards the inn.

We forced our way through the many wagons. The captains saw us first, their faces breaking into smiles as they recognised the signal pole.

I ignored them. All my attention was focused on Ly-haam. He looked up only as I slid from the saddle, and for a moment I saw nothing but misery in him. Then he recognised me and his face lit up like the moon.

“Princess!” he yelled, leaping to his feet and dashing across to me. For a moment, I thought he was going to sweep me into his arms, perhaps even kiss me, and who could guess how that would end? Would his touch set the fires raging again? But he stopped short, half bowing to me, one hand to his forehead. Then he tucked his hands under his arms, as if to stop them moving without his command.

“
Byan shar
,” I said. “How good to see you again. You have made good progress. You are no more than two or three suns from Kingswell. I trust your journey has not been difficult?”

“No. No, but…” He glanced at the two captains, who stood watchfully a few paces away. “They do not like me to sleep outside. But
I
do not like to sleep in a house.”

I tried not to look surprised. “You have been sleeping out of doors? Every night?”

“Of course.”

One of the captains coughed discreetly. “The
byan shar
does not like to be confined, Highness.”

“I see. But how will you manage at Kingswell? You cannot sleep outside there, you know.”

He looked at me anxiously. “No. I realise. I looked forward to seeing your great city, I was excited to come here. But… I do not like solid walls around me.”

“Well, let us try it, just for tonight.” I turned to the captains before Ly-haam could object. “Captain, secure a good room for us. Something large, preferably on the ground floor with a big window. You understand?”

He did, nodding and summoning a couple of guards with a few terse words. They vanished into the inn.

“Now, where is your luggage?” I said to Ly-haam.

“Luggage?”

“Bags. Spare clothes, or whatever you carry when you travel.”

“Oh, my travel roll. The woman on the grey horse has it.”

I turned to the other captain, but he was already giving the order. Ly-haam’s travel roll soon appeared, a simple cloth bag with a long strap which I guessed he would normally wear over one shoulder as he walked. However, the captain carried it for him now.

“Come,” I said to Ly-haam. “Let us go in.”

I held out my hand to him. He stared at it, then registered that I still wore my riding gloves, and with a quick smile, allowed me to take his hand.

~~~~~

The captain had paid for what must surely have been the best room the inn could offer. There was a huge sitting area, with sofas, a large table and chairs, bookcases and dressers, just like a house. Then, round a corner, a vast bed. There was a water bucket room and a room with its own bathing tub tucked away behind a door. Best of all, although it was on the second floor, it boasted a small balcony.

Despite its capacious size, Ly-haam was shaking from top to toe. He stood in the centre of the room, as far as possible from the walls he found so oppressive, arms tightly folded, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet.

One of the eagles was flying nearby. My mind had known of their presence the whole way out from Kingswell, but I hadn’t wanted Ly-haam to know that I was aware of them, and of his state of mind, too. But now I really needed to know what was in his head. I stretched my awareness to the eagle, and then onwards, to Ly-haam. Fear was the dominant emotion, but there was something else, too. Something he was fighting against, but it was there, stronger than his terror, barely under control.

Desire. He wanted me. There were the flames again, just as I remembered. For me, it only happened when he touched me, but for him it was much more powerful. A compulsion that he couldn’t fight.

I slipped out of his mind in less than a heartbeat, and he gave no sign that he’d noticed my presence. At least now I knew what I had to do. If I didn’t, he would be driven to jump on me at some odd moment, and that would be awkward for everyone. Demons, I’d hoped there would be no repeat of that strange coupling at the camp, but the gods were determined to throw us together, whether we wanted it or not. I don’t think he wanted it any more than I did, but he was compelled and I – I was the Drashona’s daughter, doing what was needful to ensure an important trading partner was kept happy.

Since it was going to happen anyway, now was as good a time as any.

“Captain, we shall need food – soup and bread, some fruit and, for the love of all the gods, the best wine you can find…”

“The
byan shar
takes no wine, Highness. We tried him with it once.”

“No, but
I
do. Some hot cake, if there is any to be had. All of that in one hour, no sooner. You understand?”

“Perfectly, Highness.” His eyes slid to Ly-haam, then back to me, but he saluted smartly and vanished.

Cryalla’s face was expressionless. “I shall be outside, Highness. Call if you need me.”

And then we were alone.

“Now,” I said, peeling off my gloves. “Let us get down to business.”

He stood, shaking his head like a kishorn matriarch, as I approached. He was terrified of what I might do, but I don’t think he was capable of resisting me in any way. So he simply stood, waiting for his fate.

All I had to do was to cup his face in my hands. Then it was there again, that fire swooping up to consume me, eating me alive, the feeling of falling, falling, falling, screaming with terror. This time, I retained some semblance of self-control, because I managed to get both of us more or less undressed first, and I even dragged him across to the bed. There’s a certain majestic drama in coupling with such urgency that you just can’t wait a heartbeat longer, but I felt certain that lying on something soft would improve the experience.

The flames were just as all-consuming as the first time, and I suspect we could have been standing in the middle of the Drashona’s court, for all the awareness either of us had of our surroundings. At least this time I knew what to expect.

Then, when it was all over, he curled up in my arms like a child and cried.

I held him tight, and made soothing noises. The books told so many stories of the
byan shar
of the past, of the great victories, the lands conquered, the kings and empresses reduced to vassals. I tried to reconcile that image with the bundle of misery in my arms. I tried to imagine him riding gloriously to war aback a lion, spear in hand, but I could not. He was no war leader. He was no leader at all, just a boy bewildered and unhappy.

After sniffling for a bit, he slithered away from me and got dressed, then sat on the floor, head low, in the middle of the room. I dressed myself too, resisting the temptation to view his mind through one of the eagles. It felt intrusive, somehow, to poke around his feelings without his permission or even awareness. So I left him to his own thoughts, but I rather hoped I could persuade him to confide in me.

“We need to talk, you know,” I said, keeping my tone easily conversational so as not to alarm him

He looked up at me with horror written on his face. “Talk?” he whispered.

“About what happens between us. It is… not natural, and if you have an explanation for it, I would be most interested to hear it.”

He seemed relieved. “Oh. Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. What did you think I was talking about?”

He stared at me for a moment, mouth twisting. Then he looked down. “I feared you may be pregnant.”

Part of me wanted to reassure him on that question, but the Drashona’s training intervened. Push him harder, it whispered. The temptation was too great. “Would it be such a bad thing?”

His head shot up. “Yes! Quite the worst! You cannot know… I am not supposed to… not with you, with any… I do not know the word. We call it unblooded.” I understood him, of course. “I must not share my seed with the unblooded. It is wrong, and I will be punished for it.”

“Punished? Who will punish you?”

“The gods who control my blood. It is a gift that I have, and the gift can be taken away.”

I sat down on the floor facing him, legs crossed. He was hunched up like a spider, knees drawn to his chest and wrapped in his arms.

“
Byan shar
, we—”

A flash of anger ripped across his face. “Do not call me that! You have no idea what it means. No idea. Chosen one of the blood – ha! You cannot imagine…”

I kept my tone level. “I apologise. I understood it to be an honorific. Clearly my advisors are misinformed. What then may I call you?”

He exhaled slowly. “No, it is I who must apologise. You are right, it is an honour title. But… to me it is a curse. I had a good life, a happy life. And then… everything changed. I am supposed to be a great leader of my people. They
expect
it of me.”

“Leadership is a great burden,” I said.

“Yes! You understand.
You
are a leader too. You know what it is like when people have expectations.”

I laughed at that. “I certainly do. The Drashona expects me to be leader after her. She is training me for it, and I am doing everything in my power to avoid the possibility.”

“But you still have a choice,” he said sadly.

I wasn’t sure about that. I still dreamed of an escape, but with every moon that passed I was being bound more and more tightly into the role Yannassia had defined for me. Even if, as I hoped, she were to choose Zandara as her heir, I might still find myself her second heir, just as committed, just as confined. I disliked walls around me as much as Ly-haam.

“May I call you by your given name, then?” I said. “Ly-haam? Or something else? We often shorten names here.”

“As we do also. I should like it if you call me Ly.”

“Then you may call me Drina. And I am not pregnant, and have no intention to be so.”

He smiled then, a great, wide smile that lit his face.

I felt I was beginning to make some progress with him. When the trolley with our food arrived, bearing a mismatched assortment of dishes that would have had the Keep cooks fired instantly, he fell on it as if he hadn’t eaten in a moon. I was too wound up to eat much, but the captain had managed to dredge up a drinkable sort of wine. Although perhaps my need was such that I would have drunk moonrose juice if I’d had to.

Cryalla put her head round the door. “Anything you need, Highness?”

“No, thank you. All is well here.”

She glanced at Ly-haam, tucking into a bowl of stew with gusto, grunted and withdrew. Just as well she hadn’t seen him crying on my shoulder earlier.

Half way through the stew, he pushed the bowl away and yawned cavernously. “So tired…” he murmured. I caught him before his head hit the floor, but he was barely awake. Fetching a pillow and his cloak, I made him as comfortable as I could on the floor and left him to sleep it off.

It was a strange reaction, but I had no way to know if it was normal for him or his people, or whether it was caused by my influence, and the odd power which drew us together.

For myself, I was exactly the opposite, fizzing with energy. I prowled around the room like a caged lion for a while, sipping the wine and nibbling a little of this, a little of that in a desultory fashion. When I heard the night guard arrive to relieve Cryalla, I deemed it time to go to bed.

But not to sleep. Just like the last time, I lay wakefully in the dark, aware of the warmth in my belly and the energy flooding my veins, and wondering at it all.