The Silence of Medair (17 page)

"Does Cor-Ibis?"

"I doubt Mylar complains of his treatment at my esteemed cousin's hands."  Avahn's fine mouth twisted into bitter lines.  "I don't know, Medair.  I'm his heir, but I haven't graduated to the level of confidant.  No-one has
that
honour.  He agreed to a
sha-leon
marriage with a pure-blood woman, but why is something no-one would be so crude as to ask him.  Whether because purity matters to him or simply because his mother suggested it.  Or if he didn't care who he married, or briefly did want Amaret – who knows?  Not, at least, because he was under his mother's thumb.  My father loved their occasional disagreements.  Winter at The Avenue."  He reined in his black, and glanced down into the valley, the frown smoothing from his face.  "I can scarcely believe I'm talking about purists with a woman named Medair.  Let alone Amaret.  Do you know, I've never discussed her before?  Something everyone knows, except you."

"You've not often travelled outside Palladium, have you?"

"Not extensively.  It's interesting to have our famed egocentrism demonstrated.  Let me summarise the rest of their relationship.  During the first year of the marriage, Keris Amaret conceived twice and lost the babe practically as soon as it was confirmed she was pregnant.  The third pregnancy proved more lasting.  Then Keridahl Galen died and Keris Amaret left my cousin before the tomb was set.  She was four or five months pregnant at the time, and rather gleefully announced it wasn't his.  She really hated him, towards the end.  The marriage lasted less than two years."

"You talk about her in the past tense."

"She died giving birth, the child stillborn.  Wasn't his, either; she was telling the truth about that.  Mixed-blood.  Cor-Ibis made no move to get another heir, after, but it was the fact that Amaret had carried someone else's child almost to term which brought the Family out.  It was taken as an indication that he could not father a viable child.  His mother had miscarried three times before he was born.  So the various branches of the family moved in to secure their positions."  Avahn's voice was full of disgust, but Medair was remembering the familiar contempt with which he treated Ileaha.  To her, it sounded like the Cor-Ibis family were purists who were not willing to admit the fact.

Stray memories chose their moment to lock into place and she exclaimed softly.  Avahn looked to her in enquiry and she lifted a shoulder.

"I just remembered that Illukar was the name of the Ibisian who died with Sar-Ibis, getting rid of the wild magic.  Kier Ieskar's brother.  I knew I'd heard the name in connection to the invasion.  What a thing to call a child."

Laughing, Avahn nudged his gelding closer so he could reach across to pat her arm.  "Yes, Medair, parents are unaccountable when they are faced with offspring in need of a name.  Have you only just realised that the family descends from the brother of the
Niadril
Kier?  There have been four named Illukar las Cor-Ibis.  The first used the strength of his blood to destroy wild magic, when the Blight overwhelmed Sar-Ibis.  Before that he was Illukar las Saral-Ibis, since he was the
Niadril
Kier's brother, but according to the histories he declared himself Cor-Ibis before going to his death, because he was to be the end, not the heart of the land."

"The
Cuor
."  It was an instrument of execution and Medair was not altogether surprised that no Ibisian of her time had explained the name Illukar las Cor-Ibis to her.  She belatedly remembered that she wasn't supposed to understand Ibis-laran, but Avahn didn't seem to have noticed.  He nodded once and continued.

"The tradition carried on.  The second Illukar las Cor-Ibis killed a dragon which came down from the frozen north, much to the surprise of everyone who thought them extinct.  And died in the process.  The third gave his life to turn the tide of a battle which threatened to bring down the Silver Throne.  It is a fated name."

Kier Ieskar had only once mentioned his brother to her, and that when a small child, a girl of three or so years, had slipped into the room where they had been playing marrat.  She'd climbed into his lap, fretful over nightmares and wanting the only family she had left.  He had held the child, whispered to her.  That had been the last time she'd played marrat with him.  The very next day she had asked the leave of her Emperor to find the Horn.

Medair closed her eyes.  They called him the
Niadril
Kier now.  It was a confusing word, a mixture of 'great', 'eternal' and 'doomed'.  He was dead within six months of that night.  He had known he was dying when Adestan climbed into his lap, had known that she would be left to face the overwhelming strictures placed on the Saral-Ibis family alone.

"My brother's daughter, Adestan Shen las Cor-Ibis," he'd said, making formal introduction only when the girl had quieted.  He'd stood with the child in his arms, his face as blankly unemotional as it always and ever was.  "We will continue this game another day, Keris an Rynstar.  Your pardon."  And he'd carried Adestan away.  Medair, stricken by things she couldn't put into words, had left and never gone back.

Looking up, she saw echoes of him in Avahn's face.  He wore that same mask, and was taking in her every reaction in much the same way his cousin had when they were speaking of the possibility of a Corminevar heir.  Doubtless he was misunderstanding just as much.

"Cor-Ibis, whom you admired and envied, who frightened you and attracted you," she said, in hopes of pushing the past away.  "He would have been, what?  Twenty-three or four when he became Keridahl and your parents were encouraging you to try and become his heir.  The idea sickened you and you retreated into Avahn the Irresponsible, who loves only pleasure, thinking less of your parents and your rivals for their behaviour, and resenting Cor-Ibis as its source.  Ileaha thought you were just lazy when you turned away from studies and responsibility.  I would not be at all surprised if you learned in private what you publicly rejected.  How long before you realised that Cor-Ibis saw through you?  Or were you completely surprised when he chose you as his heir?"

Avahn blinked twice, then sat forward in his saddle, the leather creaking.  "Why do you carry a replica of a herald satchel?" he asked, voice low.  "Can a woman called Medair be believed when she claims not to be a Medarist?  Especially one so patently unhappy to be in the company of Ibis-lar?  How did you come to be in Bariback Forest at just the right moment to recover the rahlstones?  Who pipes your tune, Medair ar Corleaux?  The Hold, if not Medarists?"

Medair had no idea what this Hold was, and didn't dare ask in case it revealed too great a gap in her knowledge.  With a prodigious effort she pushed away her ill-humour.

"The difference in our attacks being that I made a series of statements and you asked only questions," she pointed out, hoping to make peace.  Avahn looked briefly exasperated, then relaxed his angry pose.

"I don't trust you, Medair," he said.  "But I am glad to know you.  Trying to trap you into revealing yourself will make the journey back to Athere more entertaining."

"Or frustrating," she replied.  "We should probably head back."

-oOo-

 "Have you been to Athere before?" Avahn asked, as they turned their horses towards the outskirts of Finrathlar.

"I was there last year."

"You obviously travel a good deal," he said, eyes crinkling as he returned to blatantly fishing for information.

"I've been over most of Farakkan," Medair replied.  "Not much in the south."

They began a rambling conversation on the comparative merits of various cities, which was a far more dangerous conversation for Medair than Avahn realised.  Fortunately, he had not travelled very often outside Palladium and she was able to keep the discussion from cities she had not seen for over five hundred years.

"Kerin?  Keris?"

They reined in, having seen the young woman before she called to them.  Mid-twenties, about Medair's age.  Her hair was a fine floating blonde, currently mussed and falling about her face.  The dust on her loose white riding pants and tight-fitting dark blue jacket told her story even as she rose from the rock on which she had been sitting and came limping toward them.

"I am sorry to intrude, Kerali," she apologised.  "My mare shied and I made poor work of handling her."

"You've hurt your ankle."  Avahn slid from his saddle to lend the woman a hand.

"Has your horse gone far?" Medair asked, scanning the area carefully.

"Straight back to her stall, no doubt," the woman sighed, leaning on Avahn gratefully.  "I don't want to spoil your day, and I know well enough that it will be out of your way, but–"

"It would be mannerless indeed if we didn't take you home," Avahn interrupted.  "Do you think you can ride pillion with me?"

Smiling her gratitude, the young woman professed her willingness to try, and Avahn carefully lifted her up behind his saddle.  Medair had been thinking that he was not immune to a pretty face, and so was surprised when he shot a frowning glance of warning in her direction, necessarily brief because his passenger was in a position to notice.  Not certain what had made him wary, Medair again searched the hillside, seeing no sign of lurkers.

The woman, whose name was Melani, directed them to an outlying farming settlement among the northern hills.  Not knowing what else to do, Medair took the precaution of sliding her satchel off her back to where she could more easily reach its contents.

Melani continued to apologise prettily.  It seemed to Medair that the encounter had been arranged so the woman could have an opportunity to flirt with the heir to the Dahlein.  Certainly the way Melani pressed against Avahn, arms wrapped firmly about his waist, suggested only a bedroom ambush.  But, Medair told herself, if that was so Melani would surely have tried to separate Avahn from Medair.

They rode along the edge of the eastern hills of Finrathlar, then followed a winding stream, glittering in the Summer sun between two of the massed hills to the north.  Medair noted deep ruts in the road, and the hoof-prints of a number of horses.  Recent, but hardly unusual.  The north of the valley was given over to farmland.

She felt a trickle of magic escaping nearby, and looked at Avahn, who inclined his head a fraction in return.  He had been the caster then.  A defensive spell or perhaps a wend-whisper, sending a message on the wind?  It had not been anything which released a huge amount of power.  She slipped a hand into her satchel, pulling out a ring to slide into her pocket.

A solid farmhouse came into view.  "My mother should be home by now," Melani said, smiling with apparent relief.  Medair began to wonder if they had been altogether too suspicious as a grey-haired woman lifted her head from where she toiled among rows of vegetables.  She gave a soft cry of distress and hurried over.

"Oh, Melani!  Whatever have you done to yourself?"

"Thrammit tossed me, Mama.  Has she come back?"

"That cursed mare!  Too skittish for her own good."  The woman drew Melani down into her supporting arms, made a practiced inspection, then smiled up at Avahn.  "Kerin, how can I thank you?"

"We did very little, Kel," Avahn replied as he dismounted.  "The mare has not returned?"

Shaking her head, the woman steadied her daughter as she took a limping step.  "No, I've not seen her."  She looked distractedly at Medair, then returned to Avahn.  "My other daughter will be back in a decem.  If the mare hasn't returned by then, she'll collect the herders together and mount a search.  Likely the creature's gone back to the stables where she was bred."  She turned pleading eyes on the handsome heir to the Dahlein.  "Kerin, if it's not too much trouble..."

Avahn obligingly scooped Melani into his arms, hefting her with an ease only an Ibisian could manage.  Medair wondered if he would drop her at the first sign of danger.  Gathering the reins of their horses, she looped them around the posts of the garden fence.  It gave her a chance to stare into the hills for any sign of movement.  Nothing.  With a final glance about, she followed the other three inside.

Melani was directing Avahn upstairs, and her mother ushered Medair left into a kitchen. "How can I thank you and the Kerin for going so far out of your way for my daughter, Keris?" she asked.  "All because she's overfond of that pretty mare's looks, no matter the creature's temperament.  I hope she's not inconvenienced you too greatly?"

"She has given us a chance to see another part of Finrathlar, Kel–"

"–las Raithen," the woman continued, smiling.  "It is very good of you."

"Do you live here alone, Kel las Raithen?" Medair asked, since she saw no sign of any others, though the house was large enough.

The woman laughed.  "AlKier, no!  Besides my daughters, we've Miasa in the main building, and a half-dozen herders crowding out the back house.  Babies the lot of them.  They call this Orphans' Farm because I've taken so many in, but they make good herders if you start them young enough.  Some say I'm a fool to trust urchins, but with fair treatment, I get fair workers.  Keridahl Galen's wisdom."

Medair asked for clarification and was treated to an enthusiastic account of certain laws Keridahl Galen had put into effect concerning homeless children.

"But I'm running on.  My other daughter has taken Miasa into Finrathlar for supplies and the herders are out chasing the Spring lambs over the hills.  And Melani..."  The woman shook her head, but smiled fondly at the same time.  Medair, who thought Avahn had been upstairs for too long a time, relaxed on seeing him appear at the top of the stairs.