Red Rope of Fate (19 page)

The sun
cast brilliant hues across the sky as it considered setting. Tari had been in the mess hall longer than she thought.

“Your mouth is unhinged when you are hit in the head and when you’ve consumed too much alcohol. Is talking excessively your reaction to most things?” Arion asked. He didn’t take the garden r
oute and instead followed the worn paths the guards took on their way to the palace.

“I talk altogether too much, according to Seer Ringali. When he first took me on as a Ringali he called me a whining kitten gifted with remarkable volume,” Tari said, grunting when Arion bumped her higher up his shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“To your room.”

“That’s pretty boring.”

“You deserve to be chained there for a fortnight.”

“That’s not fair. I stayed in the palace g
rounds and I was surrounded by Honor Guards. I was not being unsafe!” Tari said, choking again when Arion jostled her once more. “You’re doing that on purpose,” she accused.

“I would never,” Arion said in a flat, unpersuasive tone.

Tari grumbled under her breath for the remainder of the trip

When Arion finally set her down inside her sitting room she stumbled once—more from being carried half upside down than from the alcohol. “Explain,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Explain what?” Tari asked, elegantly folding onto her settee. She cast a curious glance around, where was Evlawyn?

“Why were you suddenly ignited with the desire to drink yourself into a stupor?”

“I am
not
in a stupor.”

“Tari.”

Tari sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I know who commissioned the attacks on us. On me.”

Arion shifted but did not say anything.

“It’s an elf,” Tari quietly admitted.

“Impossible,” Arion said.

“No, it’s not. I have proof, I know who it is.”

“You have consumed too much alcohol and are hallucinating. Tari, your people
are not
warriors. You do not attack each other.”

“You don’t know everything about us Arion. It was an elf!” Tari shouted, throwing her hands into the air.

Tari and Arion glared at each other.

“You are
—,” Arion muttered under his breath.

“I a
m not a lush! ….What’s a lush anyway?”

Arion eyed Tari. “How did you know I was going to say that? You did it earlier, too.”

Tari gestured widely between herself and Arion. “I didn’t
know
. I just feel our connection and new human words spill into my vocabulary. I yank words off you. What’s a lush?”

“Yank words?” Arion asked with a frown.

“It’s like they’re swimming out there and I can just… borrow them. It’s only fair that I can do
something
. It’s not as bad as reading emotions, although in general it might be more useful,” Tari said as she stood up.

Arion watched her waltz inside her bedroom, only to return to the settee with a glass inkwell and several sheets of
smooth elf paper. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to write letters to my seconds
since you won’t tell me what a lush is. Would you be one? A second I mean.”

“A second?”

“In elvish duels—which are about as rare as a real phoenix—one party challenges the other. Both elves get to have up to 14 but no less than four seconds. The seconds can fight with you, if you need them. I won’t need you, but it would be nice if you came.”

“You cannot be
thinking
of dueling this renegade elf.” Arion said, unfolding his arms with a frown.

“It’s my right. As the dishonored party I challenge him. He has no choice but to accept, even though he knows he’s going to be slaughtered,” Tari mildly said as she slipped a q
uill out from between the papers.

“And who exactly is this renegade elf?”

Tari mutely mended her quill.

Arion sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are stubbornly foolish. Very well, I am free to join the fray if you need help?”

“You are.”

“Fine,” Arion snapped. “I will be one of your seconds. Send me notice of the details. You are being a foolish prat, Tarinthali. I expected better of you. Good Evening,” Arion said before storming out of the room, firmly shutting the door behind him.

Tari looked up from her quill. “He said my name right,” she mused.

The following evening Tari, shrouded in a black cloak, glided through a small garden with Evlawyn at her side. Together they approached a crumbling stone structure—the only building in the entire palace that was near ruin.

Seer Ringali and Arion were already there. Tari’s teacher
lounged on silk cushions, opening and closing a wax paper parasol. Arion was chewing something—probably a Berry Drop given to him by Seer Ringali based on the open pouch at Seer Ringali’s knee.

“Behold, the late disciple finally arrives. Welcome. I’ve been attempting conversation with your dog. He’s quite schooled in gestures,”
Seer Ringali said as Tarinthali and Evlawyn entered the building. (If it could be called that.)

“I thought you said you needed at least f
our seconds,” Arion said when he finished the drop, his voice chilly with disapproval. He clinked when he shifted, if Tari had to hazard a guess the captain was probably strapped with as many weapons as he could carry.

He was going to be in for a shock.

“Kiva is escorting My King Celrin. They aren’t but a moment behind us,” Tari said, folding her arms beneath her cloak.

Arion’s eyebrows shot upwards. “You invited your
king
to be your second?”

“I did mention my seconds would be ornamental. Moreover it was his requirement. I am allowed to duel the betrayer because My King Celrin will be present, representing elvish law,” Tari said.

Arion turned to Evlawyn, gesturing “Lady,” “crazy,” and “stop.”

Evlawyn shook her head and bowed to Tari, backing away until she was stationed behind Seer Ringali.

“Tarinthali Ringali.”

Tari turned—her cloak swishing around her—and bent into a c
urtsey. “My King Celrin,” she said. Behind her Seer Ringali stood and bowed with Arion, Evlawyn curtsied further back.

King Celrin nodded as Kiva and a tran
slator scurried to join Tari. The elvish ruler carried the Sword of Kings—representing the past and present Kings of Lessa—and a white staff covered in swirls and figures—representing elvish law. “Good evening to you all,” he said.

The translator—a human, probably brought by King Celrin in a gesture of thoughtfulness to Arion—retreated to Arion’s side, whispering in his ear.

Kiva wiped her puffy eyes, clearly she had been crying since she received Tari’s letter that morning. “Good luck, I’m sorry, Tarinthali,” she said before going to pay her respects to Seer Ringali.

King Celrin
gazed at the far end of the crumbling stone building. A group of roughly ten elves had assembled there. “The betrayer is here,” he said, coming to stand next to Tari.

“Yes,” Tari agreed, staring at her opponents.

King Celrin glanced down at Tari. “Words cannot describe my regrets over this matter, Tarinthali. I am sorry you are carrying this burden for us.”

Tari shook her head. “Fighting is not a burden for an Evening Star, My King Celrin.”

“Of that I am aware,” King Celrin said as he started to glide away from her, staff extended. “But fighting an opponent you love is a weighty load,
even
for an Evening Star.”

King Celrin took up a position between the two parties. The other elves were too far away to distinguish individual faces, but they were within shouting distance. King Celrin cleared his throat before trumpeting in lilting elvish,
“Tonight a challenger and a defender will engage in battle according to the laws of our ancestors and cousins, the High Elves. This is a night of sorrow, for the elves of Lessa never glorify the shedding of blood.”

The translator spoke to Arion, rapidly translating the
elf king’s words as Tari stood alone and scuffed her feet on the surprisingly smooth rock floor.

“The duel was delivered by the challenger, who has
proof that she has been wrongfully harmed by the defender. This duel, in accordance with elvish law, allows the challenger to seek retribution against the defender, to deliver the loss the challenger has felt. I stand, not only representing the kings who have come before me, but elvish law; which has never changed. This duel will be both judgment and punishment on the defender for his crimes of intending to harm Tarinthali Ringali. After this duel Tarinthali Ringali will have no claim on her oppressor, although the elvish throne will. Challenger, you may begin at will,” King Celrin finished. His voice was surprisingly booming.

Tari walked towards her opponents, passing King Celrin as he retreated back to her
half of the building. When she was roughly where King Celrin had stood, Tari stopped.

“This is madness,” Arion muttered.

Seer Ringali, not able to understand Arion’s words but correctly guessing the general feeling behind them, smacked Arion in the head with his closed parasol. “Tell this guard dog to muzzle himself and to watch my warrior student,” he said to the translator, although his eyes never moved from Tari.

The defender’s seconds clustered together, swallowing as Tari stared at them.

“Talon,” Tari said. “Show yourself.”

Kiva bega
n crying anew and Arion took a step forward. The betrayer was his brother’s bond partner? Tari’s cousin?

Talon emerged from his seconds, white faced but grim.

“Why did you do it?” Tari asked.

“What, Seer Ringali wasn’t able to torture it out of your attackers?” Talon said, an ugly sneer twisting his face.

“The hired thugs said you offered no reason, only that you paid them well.”

Talon harshly laughed
before he replied, his voice hollow as it echoed in the decaying building. “I was doing it for you. It’s because you deserved better than to be matched to a mere
captain
.”

“
Do not lie
,” Tari growled. Her voice echoed oddly, as if there were a second voice mixed with hers. “You would not have specifically sought out men of Calnor,
knowing
my vows kept me from unleashing my magic on them because you were offended on my behalf. You would not have attempted to hurt me if it were as you say. Do not pretend this is about me, Talon.”

Tari’s cousin shifted. “Fine,” he spat. “It was because I could not stand it. We have been tied to a back-water family that the human royals are trying to shun. We have been shamed,
I
am ashamed.”

“The petty human fights mean nothing to us, Talon.”

“Of course they don’t. We’re superior; it’s why we shouldn’t have been bonded in the first place. Humans are trying to use
us
in their fights! That is unforgiveable!”

“And kidnapping a relative is so much better?” Tari asked, her words closing down on Talon like a steel trap.

“You don’t understand,” Talon growled.

“You are wrong. I understand perfectly. I understand that you are nothing but an angry elf, scrambling for an excuse to shift the blame off yourself. But that is not how our culture works, cousin. Regardless of your outlandish excuse, we are here to settle things,” Tari said.

“Then let’s settle things,” Talon snapped, unsheathing a sword.

“
Foolish, foolish imbecile,” Seer Ringali muttered, twirling his parasol. “It’s not wise to welcome the tool of your destruction into action.”

“What?” Arion asked after the translator whispered the translation to him.

Seer Ringali pointed to Tari before executing the gesture for “watch.”

Chapter 9

Evening Star