Michelle West - Sun Sword 04 - Sea of Sorrows (35 page)

"No one understands Lord Isladar. I have often wondered if Isladar himself does."

"No," she said quietly. "I didn't mean Isladar. I meant you."

He raised a brow. "Among mortals," he replied, his voice even softer than hers, although with different reason, "it would be considered rude to ask personal questions of relative strangers."

"How do you know?"

"I have observed mortals in my time. There were— among them—one or two who might, in their brief lives, have been considered my peers." His smile was cutting. "I would not have condescended to acknowledge that fact while they lived. Much has changed since then. These lands are impoverished. There are only a handful of named blades that exist in this world, and they slumber now, unaware of their Makers' intent. But the human smiths knew who I was; I knew who they were.

"I digress. What I understand of mortal behavior, I learned when the mortal cities were truly great, and the men who ruled them, mages almost without peer. I observed them then." His smile sharpened. "Enough, certainly, to understand what caused offense, humiliation, or pain."

"Was that personal?"

"The observation?"

"My question."

His smile thinned. "The discussion—the voluntary discussion—of any act of weakness is always personal."

"Is it weakness if you do something that you don't understand?"

He laughed. "Especially then. The less of ourselves we understand the more prone we are to manipulation by others who understand us better."

She was silent for a moment, her face absorbing the gentle glow of the magelights scattered about the city at regular intervals for no other reason than that they provided light to people without the personal power to summon light on their own behalf. "You mean like Isladar."

"I do, indeed, refer to Lord Isladar." He looked at her face, studied it as if he could see the gradual march of time across skin momentarily unfettered by wrinkles. "I was away in the South when you were brought to the Shining Court. I do not know why he agreed to teach you. If, that is, it was not somehow his suggestion.

"I did not come until I was summoned."

"Summoned?"

"Do you not remember? You were young by mortal standards. But you rode the great beast, at the side of the Lord, and all of the
Kialli
were called to bear witness."

She lifted a hand. "Enough. I remember."

He walked by her side while she struggled a moment with memory and silence, clearly waiting. "She did not attend."

"She?"

"Your companion."

"My companion? You mean Anya?"

"Ishavriel's willful mage? No—I mean the old woman."

She started to snap out a name, and then closed her lips over the first syllable, hoarding it. "No. She never went." . "And the Lord allowed it? Attendance was mandatory for all of the Shining Court."

"She was not a member of any Court but mine."

"Yes."

She stopped in the street, weary. "You know that this hurts me. It will always hurt me."

He stopped, surprised. "Yes."

She felt it, his surprise, although none of it showed on his face.

"Then leave it. I will not fight you, not… this eve. But I will not let you use her that way."

"Will you let her memory fade?"

"What do you think?"

"I think that you have the choice: You will let her memory cause you pain, or you will let her memory fade."

"And there's nothing in between those? Not all memories of Ashaf cause me pain."

"No, but they point, in the end, to the only thing that can: her death. If you follow them to their inevitable end, it doesn't matter where you begin the thread of the reminiscence."

"Is this your truth as well?"

He laughed. "Yes. But the difference is simple: You do not know what
my
memories are."

"Or what Isladar's are."

"Or what his are. But what his are, no one knows." He bowed. "If you would allow it, Kiriel di'Ashaf, I would travel with you."

"Why?"

"Because I no longer know what your sword will become, and I am curious."

She accepted this as truth because it was—but there was something else there, nestled between the cracks of his words; something that flickered like shadow.

She looked up to see his eyes, wide now, intent; met them. "You aren't telling me all of the truth."

Those eyes widened slightly. "No." He did not deny it. He had not denied anything. But his gaze dropped to the wound across his hand. The bloodless wound.

Hers had already begun to heal.

"No."

"No?"

"I don't want you to travel with me."

"Perhaps I ask as a matter of courtesy."

"Or perhaps you ask because you know that I'm traveling with mortals who hunt demons."

He smiled thinly. "Perhaps."

"And perhaps he asks because he has no choice, and he seeks to save face."

Kiriel turned.

Meralonne APhaniel stood in the street, alone.

"Perhaps," the Swordsmith said again, turning more slowly to gaze at their visitor. "Illaraphaniel."

"Anduvin."

"Have you come to test Summer magic against the Winter? Winter is almost at its height."

"No," the mage replied quietly. "Can you not feel it? The Winter has passed. The Summer—so very long in coming—has arrived." And then he smiled. "I forget my ancient history. Of course you can feel it. Of course you know."

"Know what?" Kiriel snapped, weariness giving way to a slightly peevish whine that she instantly despised.

Lord Anduvin had become completely still. "You can tell her," the mage said quietly.

"Or I could kill you and prevent it from being known?"

"Or you could make that attempt, yes."

The Swordsmith was rigid; his skin was the color of fire's reflection across melting snow. But he smiled.

"Meralonne." Kiriel forced peevishness out of her voice—which left it sounding curiously hollow. "Either tell me what you need to tell me, or go away."

He bowed; sarcasm and grace combined in a way that should not have been possible. "I have, in my keeping, your companion. Without supervision, the Order of Knowledge will not release him. And without supervision
soon
, they will choose the form of supervision under which he leaves the Order." He frowned. "Perhaps you are indeed too exhausted; be cautious for the next few days. If you had some hidden reserve of power, it is empty."

"Why are you telling me this? Why are you even here? Wasn't it you who counseled the Kings to kill me?"

"It was indeed." He rose from his bow and shrugged. "But it has been many years since I have been accused of the crime of perfection, and I am willing to entertain the possibility that I was in error."

"And if I were to somehow remove the ring?"

"I do not believe that you will ever be able to remove the ring. I could be wrong. But it is not to discuss such difficulties that I have returned."

He turned to the Swordsmith.

Kiriel did not.

"Go, Swordsmith. Go until she has need of your presence and your skills."

"I cannot leave until she releases me."

Meralonne turned again to Kiriel, and Kiriel stared blankly at them both. Exhaustion made the lids of her eyes heavy, and the desire to sleep was almost overpowering.

Almost.

Sleep had always been the worst of her vulnerabilities. She knew it. Had always known it. It was during her hours of sleep that Lord Isladar—
Isladar
—had proved her most constant companion, for he required none, and he could watch over her, to guard against the dangers that his magicks had not foreseen.

Isladar.

Ashaf.

Isladar had walked onto a sword to save her life. Isladar, who had taken from her the only other thing she had ever valued in the Shining City.

What had she said, when she had looked at him, impaled upon that blade; when she had taken what the Swordsmith had offered?

Blood binds.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She looked again at her hand, and then raised her face to Lord Anduvin.

"I—I release you," she whispered.

His eyes narrowed. But he bowed. "I will never be far from you," he told her quietly.

Meralonne interrupted with his usual curt grace.

"Kiriel di'Ashaf—or Kiriel AKalakar, if you prefer—if you do not come with me to collect Auralis AKalakar from the Order of Knowledge, you will be forced to collect him from a more extended visit in the magisterial jails."

23rd of Scaral, 427 AA

Averalaan Aramarelas, Avantari

They met in
Avantari
.

Baredan di'Navarre noticed the change in the Ospreys immediately; his brows curved down a moment, and then rose, joining across the bridge of his nose before his expression fell into the stiff neutrality of concern. That shift in his expression was enough to catch the attention of the young man who stood, hands behind his back, studying a map that had been pinned to the table in literally a hundred different places. It was more than enough to catch the attention of the man who stood beside him, inserting another flagged pin into the surface of textured paper.

"General?"

The General looked across the table at the sound of the young Tyr's voice. "I believe that there has been a change in circumstance," he said quietly.

Ramiro di'Callesta frowned and straightened, leaving pin and map in his shadow. He turned as Valedan did, toward the room's main entrance.

Standing in the doorway, arms folded, legs planted against finely polished wood, were a handful of men and women. Ospreys.

"General?" he said quietly.

The General said nothing.

The Tyr'agnate said simply, "They have made their choice." His voice was very cool, but he nodded before he rounded the table to join Baredan at the map's west edge. At this late date, he still did not turn his back upon the Ospreys if he had the choice.

What choice!

Duarte AKalakar moved from the center of the Ospreys to their front, detaching himself. He stopped walking about ten feet away from Valedan.

The hall had never seemed quite so long, although Valedan conceded a certain familiarity with it, having spent the better part of every waking day for two weeks within its confines.

"Captain." Valedan nodded as Duarte bowed crisply and then rose into the fist to shoulder salute that was so uncommon in the South.

"Reporting for duty."

"Captain, may we speak?"

"Tyr'agar."

Valedan took him aside. "What has happened?"

"Kai di'Leonne?"

"Did you suffer a casualty? Was there some conflict beyond the grounds we currently occupy that was not brought to our attention?"

"No."

"You're…" He almost said
lying
. Turned the word aside with ease, surprised that it had almost been spoken. "You are not being entirely truthful. Let me ask you instead the relevant question. Will it affect your ability to lead the Ospreys? Will it affect their ability to perform as my guard?"

Captain Duarte AKalakar said nothing. Valedan looked beyond him to where the rest of the onduty Ospreys now stood.

Auralis was thin-lipped and narrow-eyed; Kiriel was absolutely still. Both of them were pale and bruised, and Valedan saw the fiery red of scratches and cuts across both of their faces. Beyond them, Cook looked angry, and Sanderton looked fatigued. Fiara, who was in theory on shift, was nowhere to be seen. Alexis was subdued.

It was not their finest hour. Valedan kai di'Leonne had the strong suspicion that they would not comport themselves as befit
his
rank until they had crossed the thin divide between the North and the South.

He looked back to Duarte.

The Captain of the Ospreys wore a variant of the uniform the Ospreys had, until yesterday, worn with pride Something was missing, and Valedan was almost embar rassed when he realized what it was. The symbol of their company. The bird in flight.

What remained was the uniform of the Kalakar House Guard, with the quarter circles that denoted the rank of the man who led this particular unit. Valedan had never understood the individuation of units within a larger army until he saw the effect of its removal.

"Captain?"

Duarte AKalakar had some mercy. He waited, in silence, until things became clear. And they did; Valedan was no fool. He hesitated a moment, and then he bowed to Duarte AKalakar.

He did not, however, speak. Some things lost strength or power when put into words because the words that contained them were inadequate.

"How will this alter your duties?"

"We report to you; we are responsible to you."

"You do not travel as part of the Kings' army?"

"No. We are not a part of the Kings' army. We have been relieved of that duty for the duration of this war. We have been given permission to travel to the South, with the clear freedom and understanding that binds any nonmilitary member of House Kalakar."

"But your duties will be military in nature."

"That is not the concern of either the House or The Kalakar. As long as we aren't breaking any of the laws that govern the Empire, The Kalakar has no active say in our decisions."

"The Kalakar will be coming South; we will arrive before her, but both she and The Berriliya will travel with Commander Allen into Raverra."

Captain Duarte shrugged. "Do you see yourself in conflict with the Generals? If you do, our loyalty will be the least of your concerns."

"Loyalty in the South is rare—and it is therefore never the least of my concerns."

Duarte met his gaze quietly; Valedan did not blink or look away. In the end, it was the veteran who smiled slightly, the veteran who bowed. "It's easy to value something in theory."

"Is it?" Only when Duarte looked away did Valedan relax.

"Perhaps. You are not what I expected, Valedan kai di'Leonne; you are not what any of the Ospreys expected."

Valedan nodded quietly. "I hope to be as much of a disappointment to my enemies."

Duarte's smile was quick and clean.