Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 04 (9 page)

           
Varien said nothing. He did not dare
to in the face of his supposedly neutral commission.

           
But Liltith did. "Enough
Erinnish knotwork, my lord Mujhar. Let us speak plainly." She did not so
much as look at Varien as she stepped in front of him to face my father.
"You may interpret the reason for my presence here in any way you choose.
You may even be correct. But bear in mind that if war came of a broken
betrothal, Atvia might well lose all. There is always that chance in war. I
think you realize, my lord Mujhar, that Alaric has more to gain by seeing your
son and his daughter wed than by breaking the betrothal."

           
“Then why this elaborate
farce?" my mother asked. "By the gods, woman, Ihlini or no—have you
an explanation?"

           
Lillith smiled. "Of course. But
I leave that for you to divine."

           
"Insult," my brother murmured
to me. "No more than that; a petty attempt by a petty man to irritate his
overlord."

           
I frowned. "All of this just for
that?"

           
"United army or not, Alaric
would be a fool to believe Atvia could defeat Homana. But he cannot accept
continuing vassalage graciously; he is sly, he is resentful. His pride aches,
so he offers this idiocy merely to slip the nettle into our bed." Ian
shrugged. "I doubt Alaric is stupid enough to believe we would fall for
this foolishness."

           
My father looked at me. "I will
let the Prince of Homana make the choice. It is he who must wed Alaric's
daughter, not I."

           
Varien had not expected that.
Neither, I thought, had Lillith. They had discounted me early in the game as
too young, too unimportant to consider. It was the Mujhar for whom they had set
the trap.

           
Well, I had not expected it, either.

           
Nothing would please me more than to
pack Alaric's light woman back to Atvia in disgrace. But I think it is not
worth a war.

           
I inclined my head briefly to
acknowledge my father's trust. And then I crossed the chamber to the woman
dressed in crimson and reached out to take her hand.

           
Silver-tipped nails glowed. The
painted lips smiled a little, waiting for my answer. Close up, she was lovelier
than ever. But it was a hard-edged beauty with nothing of softness about it.

           
No, she would never be the prey. She
would wear the hunter's colors; she would run the prey to ground. . . and
follow him into his burrow.

           
"Lady Lillith," I said
evenly, "nothing would please me more than to have this wedding go
forth."

           
Kohl-smudged lids flickered
minutely. I saw the brief, considering glance slanted at me out of eloquent
eyes, black as the unbound hair. The smile widened. And then she laughed her
husky laugh. "You know the game after all."

           
"No," I returned, smiling.
"But I am a passable student."

           
My father looked to my brother.
"Will you have the priest sent for?"

           
Silently, Ian did so, even as
Lillith continued to laugh.

           
Laughed as if she had won.

           
" 'Will you, the Prince of
Homana, promise to provide all things necessary to the station and well-being
of the Princess of Atvia,' " my brother quoted. " 'Will you, Niall,
clan-born of the Cheysuli, promise to provide succor and honor, respect and
regard, to Gisella of Atvia?'

           
And so on, and so on." He
laughed. "You notice he left out the word love. For a Homanan priest, he
has surpassing sense."

           
"Proxy or no, it was hard to
say the words." I swallowed sour red wine to wash away the taste of the
vows I had made. "I kept telling myself it was for Gisella the promises
were meant, but I had to look at Lillith."

           
"And now you are bound to her
forever," Ian mused.

           
"Homanan law is an unforgiving
thing, allowing no man—or woman—the chance to end a marriage that does neither
any good," He shook his head. "Foolishness. Look at Carillon. Surely
he more than any man should have had the right to end his marriage. Had he been
able to set Electra aside permanently and wed another woman, he might have
sired a son. And you would not be Prince of Homana, in line for the Lion
Throne."

           
No, I would not . . . and
undoubtedly I would not be bound forever to Gisella.

           
I turned from the stained glass
casement and faced my brother. We were alone in the audience chamber. The
ceremony had been completed an hour or more before. I had not left because a
servant had brought wine to us all, intended for celebration. But none of my
kin wished to share wine with Varien or Lillith past the customary nuptial cup;
everyone, including Tasha, had departed, and now Ian and I kept company in the
presence of emptiness.

           
He sat in my father's padded chair.
I had not drunk so much wine as to weave fancies of my thoughts, but I could
not help but mark the appropriateness of his position. He resembled our father
more and more with each year, as if his flesh grew more comfortable with his
bones. His mother, Sorcha, had taken her life before I had been born; I had no
one to compare him with except the Mujhar. And now, looking at him, I saw Ian
possessed the same mouth in repose. It was only rarely that I saw my father
this relaxed.

           
I swallowed more wine. It went down
so easily, too easily; I would have to stop soon, or I would suffer for it in
the morning. "Have you ever wondered what life would be like for you if
you were heir to the Lion?"

           
Like me, he held a cup of wine.
Unlike me, he did not drink. He stared at me fixedly over the rim. "Why do
you ask?"

           
I shrugged. "No reason, save
curiosity. We are so different; I merely wondered how you would feel if you
were in my place."

           
"Deceased," he said
succinctly.

           
"Why?" 1 was horrified.
"Why would you feel dead?"

           
"Because I would probably be
dead." Ian straightened a little. "Do you think the Homanans would
allow me to succeed to the throne?"

           
"Why not?"

           
"I am a bastard, for one.
Cheysuli for another." He paused. "More blatantly Cheysuli."

           
I waved a hand. "Let us
dispense with the first and say you are not a bastard. How would you feel
then?"

           
He smiled a little. "You
dispense with it so easily . . . well enough—I am legitimate. I am the Prince
of Homana. I would still be dead, because the Homanans would see to it I was
slain."

           
"Assassinated?"

           
He shrugged. "If it was not an
accident."

           
I felt a cold finger brush my spine.
"Because you are Cheysuli."

           
"Aye."

           
"Our father is Cheysuli."

           
"Carillon chose our jehan. From
him they would accept any man." He did not look away from me. "Niall,
you are in no danger. You are Aislinn's son. You bear the blood of the
man."

           
"As well as the man's
flesh." I swore and stared into the blood-red wine. "So I survive on sufferance."

           
"Do not mistake me, I do not
accuse all Homanans of wishing to see Cheysuli dead," he said pointedly.
"More and more are reconciled to the reinstatement of our people, even to
the succession. But there are some who would prefer it otherwise."

           
"Oh. Those,” I grimaced.
"The zealots."

           
"A'saii," my brother
murmured into his cup. "Like Ceinn."

           
"What?"

           
He bunked and looked up at me.
"The Old Tongue word, a'saii. It means zealot in Homanan, or something
close to that."

           
"What has the word to do with
Ceinn?"

           
"Nothing." The mouth was
taut as wire. Ian began to drink his wine.

           
I set my own cup down in the
casement sill and went to my brother. Before he could speak, I caught his wrist
and kept the cup from his mouth. "I am not deaf, rujho. Neither am I
stupid. At Clankeep, Ceinn came to your pavilion seeking word with you. He made
a mistake; he began to speak before he saw I was there. You yourself said he
was a fool. Now you call him a'saii. I want to know what it means."

           
"It means what I said: Ceinn is
a fool." Ian twisted away from me and rose, leaving me with his cup of
wine.

           
"He is more devoted to the old
ways—the old days—than others in the clan."

           
"The days of the
Firstborn?"

           
"Directly after, when the prophecy
was first discovered." Ian turned to face me. "In those days, the
Cheysuli bred only with Cheysuli, to keep the blood clear of taint. In the end,
that is what nearly destroyed us; we need the new blood promised in the
prophecy."

           
I nodded. "I know this. Ian—"

           
"I am answering!" he said
sharply. "Gods, Niall, must you have it carved for you in stone? Ceinn
adheres to the beliefs of the early days, when our women only lay down with our
men. To keep the blood pure.”

           
"And mine, of course, w not.” I
smiled tightly, though the revelation of Ceinn's beliefs did not particularly
shock me. "He thinks I should not be in line to inherit."

           
"Aye." It was clipped; Ian
was angry with himself for letting me learn the truth.

           
"Let me guess: Ceinn believes he
should inherit the throne."

           
"No," Ian said. "He
says the Lion should be mine."

           
I shut my mouth so as not to
resemble a simpleton.

           
"You," I said. "You?
But—I thought surely he would want it. Is that not why he pursues Isolde? To
make his claim stronger?"

           
"No." Ian drew in a breath
and released it through taut lips. "The a'saii—“ he stopped short.
"Ceinn feels I have more right than you. That my blood is purer."

           
"He forgets Sorcha was half
Homanan," I said bitterly. "You are no more pure than I!"

           
"We have a jehan who claims the
Old Blood from Alix, our granddame. That ensures my right. But on your jehana's
side there is Solindish blood in you; Electra was your granddame, never
mine." Ian's face was a mask. "There. I have carved it out for you.
Can you set the stone into place?"

           
"Electra, my mother's mother,
was also Tynstar's meijha," I said flatly. "Aye, I can set the stone
into place. So, the blood that endears me to the Homanans—the Queen is
Carillon's daughter, and for that they will overlook even Solindish
Electra—devalues me to the Cheysuli." The pain rose up to swallow my belly
whole.

           
Grimacing, I spun and threw Ian's
cup at the closest wall.

           
Instead, it shattered the nearest
casement.

           
Colored glass rained down against
the floor. I stared aghast as the shards splattered down like blood, spilling
across the stone. Sunlight gaped through the lead frame: naked light filled my
eyes until the tears spilled over.

           
My clan will not accept me. My race
reviles me.

           
"Niall-" Ian's bands were on
my arms. "Sit down—sit down!" He guided me to one of the chairs and
pushed me into it. "Shansu, rujho, shansu. Such anger can harm the
soul."

           
As well as gripe the belly. Hunched
over, I leaned against one of the padded arms. "How many, Ian? How many of
the a'saii?"

           
"Too few, I promise you. And
the canker is very small."

           
"Cankers grow. Cankers can
overtake the healthiest of men."

           
"And cankers can be cut
out." He knelt down in front of me. "Do you think I would ever allow
Ceinn or any other warrior to harm my rujho? What manner of liege man am I?
What sort of brother am I to you?"

           
Brother. The Homanan word was
accented. Ian was more accustomed to the Cheysuli. While I only rarely resort
to the Old Tongue.

           
"Would you want it?" I
asked. "The Lion?"

           
Surprising me, Ian smiled. "If
I ever laid claim to the Lion, the Homanans would have my head. Do I look like
a martyr to you?"

           
My laugh resembled a gasp, "No,
nor a particularly ambitious man." I leaned back in the chair as the pain
in my belly began to subside. "I need you, Ian. Liege man, rujholli, companion
... I need you with me, Ian. Here or in Atvia."

           
"Atvia," he said. "I
thought it might come to that."

           
"Even now the Homanan Council
hammers out trade agreements with Varien as part of the marriage settlement. In
a week the ship sails. And I must go with Varien and Lillith to claim my Atvian
bride." I forced a smile. "I have no intention of going there alone
with that Ihlini witch."

           
He sighed. "I suppose I have no
choice."

           
The smile came more easily.
"You never have. Your tahlmorra lies with me."

           
Ian sat down in the other chair.
"A long trip," he predicted. “Tasha hates the water."

           
The week before sailing was both the
longest and the shortest of my life. The thought of the trip itself was
exciting, regardless that my future wife lay at the end of it. I had never been
out of Homana before, and the idea of a sea voyage was almost intoxicating. At
first there had been some disagreement over whether I should go.

           
It would be easy enough for Alaric
to send his daughter to Homana, but it was agreed at last that I would go to
fetch her myself, as a mark of honor.

           
But now I had other things to think
about; other things to gnaw at the back of my mind, even when I tried to keep
my attention on matters of more importance.

           
A'saii, Ian had called them.
Cheysuli warriors too dedicated to the refinement of the Old Blood.

           
And there was Lillith. Varien's
overtures of friendship were easy enough to brush off: he was envoy, not
prince; his rank did not match mine, and I found myself using an impatient
condescension I had not known I possessed.

           
But with Lillith, it was different.
Being a beautiful woman, she knew how to manipulate men. Being Ihlini witch,
she had recourse to more arts than most. And so I found myself agreeing to
accompany her into Mujhara to show her the sights of the city.

           
"Alone?" I asked as we
walked the length of the corridor. "You and I?"

           
She retied the wine-red ribbon
threaded through her single braid. "We are wed. There is no law against
it."

           
She was solemn-faced as we neared
the main entrance, but I saw a glint of amusement in her eyes. It irritated me
as much as she meant it to.