Michelle West - Sun Sword 01 - The Broken Crown (67 page)

"That's it, then." The Kalakar rose, a grim smile hardening
her features. She turned to the Princess. "ACormaris," she said, as
much respect as she ever showed adorning the word, "This is not a
matter for the Council of the Ten. It is a request from the head of one
state to the heads of another."

"I beg to differ," The Berriliya said, to no one's surprise.

"You must forgive me for speaking out of turn, Berriliya, but
I must ask, how so?"

The Berriliya favored Kallandras with a grim glare. "The boy's
no Tyr."

"I must, again, disagree. The rule of the Lord's grant of
Dominion is quite clear, and if you are interested, I will quote at
length."

"I'm not interested in the babblings of moronic religious
fanatics."

"But I, Berriliya, find it of some interest indeed." The
Korisamis nodded politely, but not distantly, to the master bard. "And
if it will not discomfort the other members of this Council, I would
hear what you have to say." He glanced around the too quiet table,
looking for resistance and finding its lack in all but two faces.
Neither man— Berriliya or Wayelyn—spoke.

"Very well," Kallandras said, and he shifted Salla's position
slightly, playing the strings in a long, downward sweep as if she were
a foreign instrument and not his beloved lute.

"We can do without the accompaniment, bard. This is not a
dramatic event."

"As you will, Berriliya." But although the strings were still,
the lute remained as he had placed it. "In the Southern Dominion, if
you are born to a clan, it owns you unless you rule it. A slight to the
clan's honor is a call to battle that ends with the destruction of one
clan or the other. When the Lord of the Sun offered the Dominion of the
plains to his people, he placed them above the land by giving them the
use of his most treasured beast: the horse."

"Kallandras—you try our patience."

"And you, Berriliya," The Kalakar snapped, "try mine no less."

"The men of the clans understood this gift, and they accepted
it, and they rode, under the banner of the Lord, to His glory, freeing
the lands from those who did not believe, and would not believe, in the
light of the Sun.

"There came a time when the lands were cleansed, and the clans
gathered together for the first time, and their great skills turned
inward—for they were warriors, with no war. Each of the clansmen felt
that it was his place to rule the others, and each boasted of his skill
in battle, of his victories, of his allegiance to the ways of the Lord.

"But there was one who swayed the others, for he promised the
Lord dominion over the night itself." Kallandras' fingers had found the
strings once again, and played them now, gently and quietly. "The
Radann spoke against this, for they understood that there is balance
between light and dark, life and death—that the Lady's face is
necessary, if less desirable. They were driven underground or put to
death publicly.

"For decades the clan that cannot be named ruled, but they
ruled falsely, bringing not light into the darkness as they had
promised their people, but darkness into the light. And the Lord of the
Sun saw, understood, and was not pleased. The clansmen vied now for the
approbation of the Lord of the Night, thinking him fair, thinking him
Bright.

"But one man followed the old ways, and such was his strength
that he could not be put down by mere clansmen. The Lord of the Sun
came to him in a vision, and gave into his keeping the Sun Sword. 'Take
this, you who of all my people have remained true. When you wield it,
those who have the spark of my fire within them will come to your call,
and you will lead them to victory against the darkness.'

"Ser Valens di'Leonne lifted the sword, and it seared the
darkness with its fire. 'My Lord,' he said, 'I have fought in your name
since I could wield blade. I will honor you, and in your name, I will
take the Dominion. But after, will we not again stand upon the same
plateau?'

"And the Lord said, 'No. The clan Leonne has always proved
true. The Sun Sword will be the scepter of your office. No man but the
heir to Leonne will dare to lift this sword while the blood runs true.
Leonne is my choice, and my choice will stand until no member of Leonne
who is worthy does. Let the Sun Sword be the test and the proof that
you require; let any man who dares to question my will take up the
sword that will lead you to victory.'

"It passed as the Lord decreed. And when Valens di'Leonne at
last found peace in the Lady's dominion, three men sought the Tor. The
first of these was not of the clan Leonne. He dared to lift the sword
under the Lord's sight, and he burned; his screams were the wind in the
valleys, the howl upon the mountain's peak. The second man, of the clan
Leonne, held the sword; it did not burn him. But the third man—the
kai—lifted the Sun Sword to a blaze of perfect light. No man, no true
man, could see this and not understand the Lord's will."

The music stopped abruptly, although none there could say for
certain when he had started to play. "I thank you for your indulgence.
There remains one member of the clan Leonne, who by blood-right and
bloodline takes the title Tyr'agar and challenges any pretender to take
the ancient test."

"He is no ruler," The Berriliya said, but his voice was
quieter. "He is no ruler unless the test is taken."

"By Annagarian law of succession, he
is
the Tyr'agar."

"It is out of our hands," The Kalakar said again, but her
expression was an odd one as she turned to face the Berriliya. "Or are
you afraid? Has the Hawk lost his flight feathers?"

"No more," The Berriliya said, the same odd light in his eyes,
"than the Kestrel has hers. Very well. Berriliya will abide by the
decision of the Crowns."

The Korisamis was very pale. "And I pray that the Crowns
tender the wise answer."

"And that answer?" Mirialyn ACormaris asked softly.

"Wisdom is not always justice, as well you know, ACormaris. I
have seen war. I have seen its effects; they surround us now, and if we
embark on no further conflict, we will feel the ramifications of the
last Southern war for decades yet. You know, as I, how many innocents
perished, and how horribly, at the hands of the Southerners. You know
better than I—than any of us save The Berriliya and The Kalakar—how
many of their innocents perished at the hands of our soldiers." He
lifted a hand, calling for silence as The Kalakar and The Berriliya
both made to speak. "Will you plunge us into this chaos again for the
sake of one life? For the sake of twenty?"

She lifted her chin; her hair gleamed as if it were bronze
helm, and not braid. "Yes," she said softly, "if we had no other
choice, I would. Remember: Valedan di'Leonne has thrice been under
threat of death—and the assassins sent were no mortal creatures." She
walked to the doors, turned, and bowed. "I will carry this new word to
the Crowns."

Jewel Markess ATerafin had only twice been called to the Hall
of The Ten in her fifteen years of service to The Terafin. And at
neither time was it for a full Council meeting, in which the Kings, the
Queens, the Lord of the Compact, the bardmaster of Senniel, the
representative of the Council of the Magi, and the Holy Triumvirate
were also to be present. She remembered, quite clearly, the last time
that she had seen most of these people assembled in one place, and she
had no desire to ever be in such a position again.

Avandar had fussed—and he was not a man so inclined—to insure
that her appearance at least was excruciatingly correct. That she
allowed him to do so spoke volumes to anyone who knew her; she was
nervous.

The Terafin sat beside her in the horse-drawn carriage, gazing
out at the waters that surrounded the isle. The road to
Averalaan
Aramarelas
was busy, and the carriage traffic quite slow,
given the early hour of the day. Both women were tired, but wore the
lack of sleep as artfully as they wore the clothing that had been
chosen for them by men. To either side of the carriage were three of
The Terafin's Chosen; an escort of six. The Terafin was allowed six
guards and two advisers when a full meeting of the Kings' Council was
called. Gabriel ATerafin was the second of the two advisers that she
was allowed. The circles under his eyes were dark, long, and far too
obvious. Although he normally carried himself like the ATerafin that he
was, his hair had grayed in the last few days, and his face had taken
on the gauntness of age. Jewel knew that he wanted the Kings to refuse
the young boy's transparent attempt to save his own life, although she
didn't know why. All of the Chosen did.

No one spoke the words aloud after The Terafin made her will
known.

"Why take me?" Jewel had asked.

"Because," The Terafin replied, "I want you to look at Valedan
di'Leonne. I want you to listen to him. I want you watch as carefully
as a seer has ever watched anything in her life."

"You know that I can't just—"

"I know that answers come to you at the strangest times,
without rhyme or reason. If you have an answer there. I want to know
it." Her face was pale. "You mentioned war, Jewel. And I think I feel
its rumble."

Duarte AKalakar rode in the procession of wagons, armed and
armored although no sane man would have been either in sun as scathing
as this. At his back rode Auralis, and behind Auralis, Alexis. She was
in a foul mood, as was he; it was just as well that something—even
someone as annoying as Auralis could be—separated them. He wasn't
certain why The Kalakar had chosen Ospreys—any of them—as part of her
escort; the Ospreys, sadly, were not noted for their ability to drill
and present well.

What made things worse was that the mysterious Kiriel was in
the carriage with The Kalakar and Verrus Korama. Verrus Vernon had been
relegated to horseback. And he knew well why…

"Have you ridden before?" The Kalakar had asked.

"Yes."

"Good. You will ride on the left of the carriage with Cook and
Sanderson."

She'd opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. He should
have known then. But no. Preoccupied with his ongoing argument with
Alexis, he ordered a horse for her. It was a big, dress
warhorse—something that looked like it could carry an armored man into
battle without working up a sweat.

Admit it
, he thought sourly.
You
chose Nightwind because the damned horse looks like it should have
fangs. You knew she was uncomfortable. You wanted to drive it home.
Teos, she makes you act like an overweening Sentrus
.

It wasn't Kiriel who showed fear first.

And the fear that Nightwind showed the moment she touched his
flank wasn't the hesitance or even the friskiness that horses are wont
to show. It was primal, and worse, it was savage. Hooves with that much
weight behind them weren't meant to strike ground that hard, that fast.

Neither were slender, underweight girls in too much armor.

What was the thing that he remembered most clearly from the
entire incident? She didn't kill the horse.

Just that: She hadn't killed the horse.

"Kiriel," The Kalakar said, "did you know that this would
happen?"

The girl was silent, although for the first time ever, Duarte
saw her sweat. What was disturbing was that the sweat was probably not
from the effort of escaping the hooves, head and teeth of the
stallion—she'd had longer workouts, and harder ones, in the circle. No,
he felt, although he did not say it because more than just Ospreys were
present, that it was due to the effort of staying her hand.

"Kiriel," The Kalakar said, "did you know that this would
happen?"

The girl shook her head, sheathing her sword as she turned to
face the Commander.

"Did you suspect it?"

"Yes."

"Next time that you suspect something of this nature might
occur, tell us. That's an order."

"Yes, Kalakar."

"Vernon?"

"Yes, Kalakar."

Vernon rode in Kiriel's stead. Kiriel sat in his.

"Why do you want me to go to this gathering of the court?"

Korama raised a brow and glanced at the profile of the
Commander. She smiled grimly. "I was not responsible for
choosing you, Kiriel. I gave Duarte the orders: Six Ospreys, no more,
no less."

Kiriel nodded quietly. "But you knew that Duarte and Alexis
have been arguing about the Annagarians. You knew also that the
argument occurred after my visit to him."

She raised a brow, but did not reply.

"You know that he doesn't trust me."

"The Ospreys hang together."

"In more ways that one," Verrus Korama added, grimacing.

"Kiriel, if he didn't trust you, why would he choose to bring
you?"

"Because he fears to have me out of his sight during this
crisis." She glanced out of the window, her eyes flickering over the
crowds that lined the streets as if it were Ascension. "The Ospreys are
known for their lack of the diplomacy so many of you seem to value.
They aren't political. They aren't well-dressed compared to the rest of
the House Guards. But you asked for the Ospreys.

"Duarte feels that this is very, very important. You know him
well. You know that he would choose to come himself. And if he came
himself, he would choose the people he least trusts to accompany him."

"And not those that he most trusts?"

"No. Because he wants to see for himself that we do not go
against his orders, and he is afraid that if we do, we will kill each
other."

"I think," Korama said coolly, "that she has you there,
Commander." He turned to face the young woman, his expression so
neutral it felt inhuman.

"Sentrus Kiriel," The Kalakar said, "You are very observant
for someone who seems to understand so little of our ways."

"I understand politics."

"Very well." She looked at Kiriel as if seeing her for the
first time, and then smiled, as if what she saw there had never really
been in question. "You are correct in all of your assumptions. But I am
your commander. I want you present for my own reasons."