Echoes of Betrayal (8 page)

“I’m not afraid, sir—Kieri. My mother’s family had a bone-house, and I visited it with her as a child. But this is the royal ossuary—”

“It is where your bones, as well as mine, will someday rest. You need to meet them. Tell the Council I must visit there first and then go let the Seneschal know I’m coming—I won’t be long.”

After she left, he dressed, belted on his sword, and went into the
hall. Harin and Devanyan fell in behind him. The Siers were milling about downstairs, but Arian had been there and they only nodded as he passed them.

The Seneschal met him at the outer entrance to the ossuary. “Sir king—they will be glad you are home safely. And your lady awaits you within.”

“She told you?”

“No, sir king. I knew from her face. I am happy for you both, and so will they be.” He led the way inside. Arian, he saw, had already taken off boots and socks and sat on the bench, looking around with interest. Kieri sat down and pulled off his house boots.

“It’s not what I expected,” Arian said.

“It’s not what you’d expect inside, either,” Kieri said. The Seneschal led the way with one of the big candles and set it on a holder for them, then bowed and withdrew. Kieri felt that ancient peace enfold him. He heard Arian’s little gasp of surprise.

“They’re … like the others only … more.”

“My father,” Kieri said with a gesture. “And my sister, on the women’s side.”

“What is that—oh—it’s writing. At my mother’s family’s bonehouse the oldest were painted with pictures in certain colors, but no writing.”

“Can you read it?” Kieri asked.

“No … at least … it says something about beloved son, doesn’t it? Here?”

“Yes. I did not know the script at first, and then I could read it.”

“I hope they like me,” Arian said.

“You can read the script—I think that proves they do.” They were shoulder to shoulder now; Kieri felt a pressure from those bones, from all the bones. Did Arian feel it? She moved across the aisle to his sister’s bones.

“And this was her child … I came to her coronation, you know.”

“I didn’t—” Kieri’s throat closed. That others had known his sister as an adult, and he only as a tiny child, barely able to walk steadily …

“All the Knights of Falk were summoned, and the senior knights-candidate. She was beautiful. And gracious, very gracious. It grieved us all when she died.”

Kieri felt the faint touch he had felt before, his sister’s presence, but this time not full of anger and warning … this time a caress, a blessing.
She was gracious, too. As she is now. Be happy
.

Moved by impulse, he reached out and took Arian’s hand and lifted it high. “This is Arian, who will be my wife and my queen,” he said. “Make her welcome, for my sake.”

Light bloomed in the ossuary, far brighter than the candle, bright as summer sun and carrying the scent of ripe fruit and roses. The pressure he had felt before increased, inexorable, and in a moment he and Arian were joined as they had not been before, embracing. Then joy and the light faded back to the candle’s glow.

“They made us welcome indeed,” Arian said, in a shaky voice.

“They believe you are a queen,” Kieri said. “Remember that, when you doubt it.” The chamber felt quiet again, the presences withdrawn. Kieri sighed. “And now for the Council.”

K
ieri laid out the situation as best he could. “Our troops defeated the Pargunese army in battle; survivors of the scathefire attack on the Halveric camp, forest rangers, and Royal Archers stationed in the area had much depleted their numbers before I got there.” Faces relaxed; a murmur rose. Kieri went on.

“What we know now is that the Pargunese were befooled and then led by Achrya into moving above the falls—into land the rockfolk had denied them, land containing two hills in which dragons had laid clutches of eggs, supposedly guarded by gnomes.”

“But there are no—” someone said.

Kieri held up his hand for silence. “Under Achrya’s urging, the Pargunese took some of those eggs and broke them, releasing an immature form of dragon. In a later change, the immature dragons became a form of fire, uncontrolled and uncontrollable by humans. The Pargunese thought they had a weapon—thought they could control it—but they had released what Achrya wanted: chaos and terror that only the gods—or a dragon—could control. That is what burned Riverwash and a Halveric encampment; that is what we saw the other night.”

“If the Pargunese have them, they could send more,” Sier Halveric said. He looked more angry than frightened.

“They do not,” Kieri said. “The dragon—and yes, there is a dragon; Arian and I both met it—will prevent that; the dragon means us no harm.” He paused, but no one spoke. “That is good news, but I have better: King’s Squire Arian has consented to become my queen, and the ancestors and the taig and the Lady of the Ladys forest have all agreed.”

Stunned silence, then a burst of applause that ended when Kieri held up his hand. “Because of the perils just past and the uncertainties of the future, I believe it wise to marry sooner rather than later, and Arian agrees. We will celebrate the engagement formally on the day of Midwinter Feast, and the wedding will be on the half-Evener.”

He had thought that would make them happy, but disappointed looks went back and forth.

“You could wait until the Evener,” Sier Hammarin said. “Half-Evener—it could be storming; snow won’t have melted. It’s a royal wedding; there’ll be guests to invite who must travel a distance. Evener, or even Midsummer, if you wanted, would be better. Now that you’ve found someone …”

“We don’t want to wait,” Kieri said. “And oaths given on Midwinter are unbreakable, as you know.”

Hammarin chuckled. “Young folks are always in a hurry, but you surely know, sir king, the custom—no need to wait the way
you
mean.”

It took Kieri a moment to understand that; he felt his face heating up. “That wasn’t what I meant,” he said. No one laughed. “But you may be right—” Hammarin
was
right, he realized. Next to the coronation, his wedding was the most important state occasion, requiring time for planning and consideration of the guest list. “Arian?” he said, turning to her. “What do you think?”

“Spring Evener’s better,” she said. “Especially after the war, you must invite the other kings as well as our own people.”

“And just enough planning time now,” Sier Belvarin said.

I
suppose,” Garris said after the meeting, “you’re going to appoint another King’s Squire to replace her? We’ve lost enough that you might well hold another examination anyway, especially as she’ll need her own Squires once you marry.”

“Arian will stay with the Squires until we marry, as she wishes,” Kieri said. “But no dangerous assignments, Garris. She can serve in the palace.” He pushed away the memory of the two Squires who had died in the palace … no more Pargunese assassins, at least. He yawned.

“When did you last sleep?” Garris said.

“Um … I’m not sure. Not last night; I wanted to get back here and reassure … people.”

“Arian.” Garris smirked.

“And the Siers.” Kieri grinned. “But of course Arian most of all.”

“I’m glad for you,” Garris said. “But go on to bed and let me send out my messages. If you yawn in front of me anymore, I’ll fall asleep myself.”

Kieri fell asleep almost as soon as he lay down, only to wake in the dark of night. He stretched, then wondered why he’d wakened. No sound disturbed him; coals still glowed in the fireplace. He felt no menace. So … what? Arian? No, of course not. The Council? No, they were as content as they could be, knowing he would wed. Squires, Royal Archers, forest rangers … nothing came to mind that would wake him up.

Where were the elves?
He blinked, trying to clear his mind. They had been there, at the end of the scathefire track, that first day after the attack. The Lady had sworn her aid to heal the land. He had ridden back to Chaya, leaving the elves behind, thinking they would defend … but when he returned, the Pargunese had come, hindered only by that mixed force of humans and a few part-elf rangers.

Where
were
the elves? He had seen no healing of the scathefire track, no new growth. Had they but awaited his departure and then gone back to the Ladysforest? Surely not, for the taig had calmed … He reached out for it and tried to trace its fabric all the way to the river. Here … and here … were the rents the scathefire had made. And there, on the other scathefire track, he felt … not the elves, but
the effect of the elves. Pain lessened. Fear calmed. And it was winter, he reminded himself: not the time for new growth.

So they had not deserted completely. But why had they left the place where he’d found them? He tried to use his taig-sense to reach them, to find his grandmother, but met only fog … or so it felt.

He rolled to his other side. So now he knew where the elves were … why had he wakened? He didn’t feel sleepy now, nor did he feel menace near. He pushed the covers aside, fumbled his feet into fleece-lined slippers, and went to the window above the courtyard. He pushed the curtains aside and let the night air, frigid as it was, roll in. The clouds had blown away south; starlight glittered on the snowy roofs of the lower buildings—the stable, the smithy, the storehouses. Kieri leaned out into the cold air. He could just see sentries moving silently where they should go and the loom of the King’s Grove trees, streaked with snow.

So still a night … He breathed in deeply and then looked up at the stars. Nowhere near morning, just after the turn of night. A touch of warm air on his face startled him; he jerked back. Nothing. But not nothing … her. “Tamar?” he whispered. Another touch of warmth. Joy flooded him—her joy, he realized—and then a buffet to his shoulder that knocked him into the window frame hard enough to dislodge a chunk of snow frozen there. And she was gone.

The snow fell onto the swept stones below—a small sound, but one of the sentries turned and came across the courtyard, peering up at the wall, alert.

Kieri leaned out. “My fault—I was stargazing.”

“Sir king! Is all well?”

“Very well,” Kieri said. He could not see the expression on the man’s face, but he could imagine what he thought: the king, up in the middle of a cold winter’s night, leaning out the window. “I woke, and it was so quiet, I wondered if it snowed.”

“Shall I tell someone—”

“No. I’ll go back to bed.” Kieri stepped back and pulled the curtains closed. He slid into the covers that still held the warmth of his body and lay for a time thinking of Tamar. That she approved of Arian did not surprise him, but the buffet? What had that meant? She used to do that when she thought he’d been foolish … What had he done this time? Laughter ran through his mind, then faded.
She was gone. She had given him a buffet when he left, if he lingered in farewell … he understood, and with that he fell asleep.

Next morning he was in the salle when a servant brought word that a courier had come from Aliam Halveric. “Bring him here,” Kieri said.

The courier was Cal’s son Aliam, about the age Kieri had been when he himself had come to Halveric Steading. “Sir king, Lord Halveric will be here in another two days, if the weather holds. He asks that you send word where you want his troops to camp or if you want them to march straight on to join up with Captain Talgan in Riverwash.”

“Captain Talgan was lost,” Kieri said. The lad paled. “Riverwash … burned.”

“The—the whole
town
, sir king?”

“Yes. The strange fire weapon the Pargunese had threatened. I wrote Aliam about it.”

“How—did you stop it?”

“I did not. What they called scathefire is instead dragonspawn … and a dragon stopped it.”

“A dragon? I thought there were no dragons anymore.”

“So did I,” Kieri said. “But there are, and I have spoken with one. Tell me, young Aliam, have you breakfasted?”

“No, sir king. Granfer—Lord Halveric—said stop for nothing on the way. Don’t you eat or sleep, he said, until you’ve seen the king.”

“Well, you’ve seen the king, and if you can wait while I finish exercise, you can eat breakfast with the king as well.”