Solace Arisen (24 page)

How did Sibelian know who he was? Degarius looked down his nose at the sword. It was his captain’s sword. “Where did you get it?”

“Lake Sandela. You must have lost it there, after you cut off my arm.”

Degarius began to shake to head, but Sibelian added, “It was at Two Days Gorge.”

He was a dead man.

“Perhaps you didn’t know that Alenius sent his son to stop you.”

“I didn’t know.”

“And would that have stopped your blade, had you known.”

“No.”

Sibelian laughed and lowered the sword point to Degarius’s neck. “Then why should I spare you?”

Spare him? It dawned on Degarius that if Sibelian didn’t execute him, the coup might save more than their lives. Sibelian wasn’t Alenius’s blood son, and the general in charge of the army on the front was Alenius’s brother. Sibelian’s claim to the throne was by no means settled, especially if Alenius’s brother won a great battle against Sarapost and swayed the military to his side; several other generals were sure to side with the brother. “If you kill us, enjoy wearing the sovereign’s ring. It won’t be on your finger for long.”

“What do you mean?” Sibelian drew his shoulders back as if he was already adjusting the mantle of his power.

“While in Acadia, I negotiated the treaty securing troops for the campaign. Acadia is entitled to territory as well as spoils. If our alliance wins, Sarapost could be surrounded by Acadian-held lands, and with an Acadian queen, our independence might not last with a half-Acadian heir. A victory over the Gherians would be bittersweet for Sarapost. We would rather not fight this war. Some of your generals share the sentiment. They don’t want to lose their tenants to promises of free Sarapostan land. Do you want to fight when your time might now be better spent securing the loyalty of your generals?” Degarius nodded to the bodies of the generals who had already been executed.

“But how am I to trust you that Sarapost doesn’t wish this fight? What reassurance do I have that what you propose isn’t a trick to lure me into killing the generals? With our army distracted with the question of allegiance, Sarapost would gain an advantage and attack. What authority do you have to negotiate treaties?”

“I came without Sarapost’s sanction or knowledge. Prince Fassal, however, is my friend. If you guarantee our safe passage through Gheria, you have my word the war will be called off.”

“I heard you are wanted, Stellansonson, by the Acadians for the murder of Lerouge. Should I trust a murderer? How good can your word be?”

With a glance to the dead clerics and generals, Degarius said, “As good as yours, but I will give you more than my word if you promise me, too, that no harm will come to her.” He nodded to Ari and then held out his sword. “Do you know what it is?”

“Assaea. I could have killed you for it.”

“I know. It’s why I thought I might trust you.”

Sibelian regarded Degarius through narrowed, astute eyes. “Standing orders are to begin battle tomorrow at sunrise.”

“If we ride all night—” Degarius began.

“If I ride all night, I may be able to take care of the generals,” Sibelian finished.

Degarius knew what Sibelian meant by “take care of”—he would kill the generals before the border troops learned of Alenius’s death.

One of the guards who had acted as executioner asked permission to speak. “If we took Megreth’s head, if they thought you killed it after it turned on Alenius and the clerics, the army would be yours.”

Sibelian frowned in disgust. “I will not claim false laurels. Stellansonson and his lady did it.”

Degarius saw the brilliance of the plan. It could save thousands of lives, maybe even their own. “An honor is not an honor if thousands needlessly die for it to be known. We ask you to abide your guard’s suggestion. We will testify to Sarapost it was the case.”

On a long exhale, Sibelian considered. Then, his mouth crept into a smile. He gave Degarius his captain’s sword and then took Assaea.

Degarius didn’t notice the sensation of the sword leaving his hand. It wasn’t what made him complete, wasn’t the better half of him.

“Release Stellansonson. He will ride with me to the border.” He weighed Assaea in his hand. “I was promised this sword and believe me, I wanted it, wanted anything I might eventually be able to use to stop this madness. I was there when Alenius had the Beckoner sewn into his chest.” Sibelian threw a repulsed look at The Scyon’s corpse. “I wished I could have killed him then, but the eunuchs were on their guard. I know what he became. Now, I must thank my enemies for delivering Gheria from a madman. Who is the lady? Is she the Solacian?”

The Gherian commander escorted Ari to Sibelian. Without a coat, she was shivering.

“The lady is Miss Nazar,” Degarius said.

“I would take your hand and kiss it, but you see I only have one. Know I would not, will not, hurt you. I am a man of my word.” He raised Assaea as in salute. “Captain Berlson, you bring Miss Nazar.”

The commander removed his coat and draped it over Ari’s shoulders, put his hat on her head, then went down on one knee and told her that his name was Berlson, that he had seen everything and regretted he had not helped her until the end. He would allow no woman’s valor to be greater than his own. He would lay down his life for her for saving Gheria. Ari, who obviously didn’t understand half of what Berlson was saying, looked anxious for him to rise.

“You have an admirer,” Degarius said. For once, he was glad of it.

The snow-sputtering sky made the night black. With an escort of torch-bearing Fortress Guards, the small circle of light in which they rode moved as fast as was possible down the snowy Gherian roads. A sleigh carried the fire draeden’s head. As Degarius rode, he recalled all he knew of his father’s profession. His fear was the parties would meet and opportunism would sink his intentions. How was one to prevent that?

First, he must know with whom he was dealing, which was more difficult than he expected. As well as he knew Fassal, he could not absolutely say that the prince would subscribe to his peace plan. Though Fassal had seen the brutality of war, he was still an excitable youth. Would he decide to launch the campaign against the Gherians now that uncertain leadership weakened them? Would he risk Acadia gaining contiguous territory to Sarapost in exchange for the security of defeating the Gherians, their longtime enemy? On the other hand, would he take a chance on peace with a potentially unstable neighbor? If Sibelian secured enough troops, he could decide to attack Sarapost to prove his power. Was Sibelian going to be a trustworthy negotiator? Often, one tyrant replaced another in a coup.

Peace. At one time, Degarius would have spoken passionately for war, to decimate the Gherians in their time of weakness. Repay them for their trespasses. Why did he want peace now?
Have I become my father
? The twinge of amusement lasted a second. He wanted peace for the girls whose tattered frocks smelled of tears and dirty soldiers. He wanted peace for the boys and men, black coat or blue, so their lives wouldn’t end with their bodies crumpled in inhuman positions, their faces locked in inhuman expressions. But not Alenius’s kind of peace, the kind of peace that came from fear instead of men making choices by the governance of their hearts. Degarius grimaced at the benevolent picture he was painting of himself and how Heran Kieran would approve his rationale. He just wanted to sit at his table at Fern Clyffe again—under different circumstances.

Finally, they paused to rest the horses and warm themselves. Arvana, huddled in Commander Berlson’s huge coat, was worried about the effect of prolonged cold on the fragile skin of Nan’s feet. Yet she kept the concerns private. He was sitting across the fire with Sibelian, and she wouldn’t embarrass him with her womanly anxiety.

Berlson, Arvana’s self-appointed protector, pointed to Degarius and spoke to her in slow Gherian so she would understand. “Stellansonson husband?”

“Nan...” No, she mustn’t call him that aloud. Perhaps in the trials of battle it had not mattered when she called him
Nan
, but now was different. “Degarius...Stellansonson...is not husband.” She felt the lump of the emerald ring inside the mittens Berlson had given her; she’d left Lina’s fine gloves in the pocket of the coat she gave to the Lily Girl. She couldn’t keep the ring or sell it. Nan had his reason for giving it to her. It wasn’t a gift. It was a payment she’d neither asked for nor wanted. It was her right to return it. If she could just rid herself of every worldly reminder of him, she could start a true life anew—the life she never started in Solace because she’d kept her father’s kithara. “I was a Solacian, but now want to go to Sylvania. If I had coin I would make a home there...”

“Coin? You need coin for home?” Berlson rose, circled the fire to Sibelian, and after a word with him, took something. He returned to Arvana and sat again beside her. “From Sibelian,” he said and presented two gold pieces the size of her palm.

“Too much.” She tried to give one back.

Berlson shook his head adamantly. “Sibelian once promised you home and hearth. He is good to his word.”

“Promised me?”

“Yes.” Berlson smiled so wide the corners of his mouth disappeared into his bushy beard.

“I don’t understand—”

“No, you can’t understand.” Berlson took her mittened hand and curled it over the coins.

She could not estimate their worth with any exactness, but knew they would purchase far more than a home. She pictured a new kithara. “Kithara,” she said to Berlson and wanted to tell him about rosewood and inlay. However, her Gherian did not extend to these rarer words so she removed her mittens, put the coins in the coat pocket, and pantomimed playing.

Before sunrise, they arrived in the territory where the two armies camped. Degarius went along to witness Sibelian rouse from bed the generals sympathetic to the coup and to execute Alenius’s brother and supporters. Degarius heard every order. Sibelian was clear in his directives—no engagement with the Sarapostans. The troops marveled at the draeden’s head and whispered in admiration of Sibelian’s deed.

In preparation for their venture into Sarapostan lands, the Gherian standard was rigged with a white parlay cloth. As they started, the snow thickened but a Gherian scout who knew the land intimately was leading them to the Sarapostan encampment. They slowed to cross the small stream that would become the Odis River. While regaining speed, a group of horsemen shot out from a windbreak on their left. Because of the snow and dark, Degarius could hear the familiar mix of horses and men, but could not see the force until they were on top of them with drawn weapons. Evidently, the Sarapostans could not see the white pennant. Degarius bellowed for his countrymen to stand down, but they were already engaging the Fortress Guards and couldn’t hear him over the battle cries.