The Sand Prince (16 page)

E
riis City

20 years after the War of the Door, Eriisai calendar

100 years later, Mistran calendar

Inside the Arch

"Of course it’s good for you, but I wouldn't be proud of the way you went about it."

Aelle picked at her lunch, only looking up to glower at her brother. She nodded at the server, who poured her more water.

The cafe was busy this afternoon, and the streets were unusually full of people walking or even flying about, as the habitual grey dust had started to draw back beyond the boundary of the city walls. It was widely cheered as a tangible improvement in what Hellne had dubbed Returning Eriis to Comfort. All her efforts—that is to say, the efforts of her Mages—had been turned towards simple improvements. And not having a mouthful of grit along with your meal? That counted as an improvement. And with the improving visibility, a display like taking wing in public was no longer considered vulgar.

Aelle and Ilaan had fallen out of the habit of dining together, he had to convince her to see him and that was after she changed her mind and canceled three times. Like most of their conversations lately, this one had fallen to furious whispers and fixed smiles.

"But I
am
proud, and it’s good for the family. Doesn't Father agree?" He felt Aelle was so deeply into the habit of disapproval in her own life that now it was extending to him.

"Yes," she conceded, "but that's only because he sees you, the youngest ever to be admitted to the Mage Conclave. He doesn't see what you're doing to Rhuun. This is bad for him, and that makes it just as bad for me. Or am I not a part of this family anymore?"

"How is it bad for Beast—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Don't call him that ridiculous name anymore! It was cruel and undignified when we were children and it’s worse now. He might still take his mother's seat, and how would it look?" Out of habit, she lowered her voice and looked from side to side before mentioning the High Seat.

Now it was his turn to look disgusted.

"Is that what this is all about, again? Still?" He sat back and folded his arms. "Father has really turned your head around. You still see yourself on the High Seat, don't you? Talk about ridiculous. You know perfectly well that is never going to happen." Ilaan didn't bother to look around.

"Why not?" she hissed. "He is her son. He is her
only
son. And we are...."

"Let's count how many things are wrong with that statement. Hellne," here he did lower his voice, "is young, and she could still marry and have another child.
Any
child would be better suited to take the seat, and you know I love Rhuun, but it’s true. He'd rather stare out the window or read a book than talk to anyone—he hates being looked at, and what is power but the drawing of all eyes? And you and he are... what? Wedded? Betrothed? More than friends? Passing notes in the classroom?"

"It’s your fault for encouraging this stupid book business."

"Ah, it always comes back to that, doesn't it? You share your life with him and you're jealous of a few dusty pages of text."

"That is not it!" She was near tears of frustration. "Why must you always make me out to be stupid? You know that's not it. He thinks about the human world all the time, he can't let it go. Like he'll get there someday, and he's always... rehearsing for it. You encourage him. If he focused for one minute on the world he lives in, he'd be a lot happier."

"Happier with you? Happier to follow your plan for his life, yours and Father's?"

She stood.

"Aelle, no. I'm sorry. I talk too much. Please, sit down. I didn't beg you to come out to lunch with me to fight with you."

She sat slowly.

"I miss you," he continued. "I miss seeing both of you at once, not just Bea—Rhuun during the day. Remember the time we set Lady Yiil's flowers on fire?"

She smiled despite herself. "We got in a storm's worth of trouble for that one. We had to spend the next two weeks turning sand into flowers for her."

"And Beast of course couldn't do anything but haul buckets of sand for us..." he laughed.

"And he dumped that one haul onto your head for making him carry a dozen extra. You were soooo mad!"

"I had sand in my ears! For days!" he laughed.

They smiled across the table. Then she sobered and said, "We aren't like that anymore, Ilaan. He's her son. And I am with him, and we—you and I both—have a responsibility to him, and to Eriis."

He laughed again, this time in disbelief.

"Seriously? You're somehow making this fantasy world you've created into an act of nobility?" She began to answer but he put up his hand. "It seems we've had this argument every time we've seen each other for the last 10 years. Maybe it’s not the book that's bad for Rhuun. Maybe Rhuun is bad for us."

She had no answer for that one.

"I'm having a party to announce the Conclave thing," he told her. "It would mean a lot to me if you were there."

She seemed relieved to have a topic other than her own life to dissect.

"The Mages are certainly lucky to have you," she said, "but won't you miss working up in the light and air? This is a big decision, your life will change a great deal. Have you really thought about it? And what about Niico? Not to mention me and your... why do you have that look?"

He sat back with a satisfied smile. She hadn't heard the best part yet.

"They made a few concessions on my behalf. I get to come and go as needed between my study up here and their workspaces down below. I have no intention of locking my glorious self away in a smelly dungeon. And give up Niico? That represents literally years of hard work! Oh, and I think you'll agree robes and hoods don't exactly cut the cloth, so that was off the table. And can you imagine a world without my voice in it? And then I told them that while their space down there is certainly atmospheric, I have many books and things up in my study that I intend to keep working with. They thought about it, and they agreed with everything."

Her look of skepticism fought it out with her awe. "They gave you everything you asked for. Just like that." He smiled sweetly. "And your good friend the Prince and your other confidant our Queen had nothing to do with it?"

"It's a new day on Eriis," he shrugged. "It's in two nights. Say you'll come. Everyone will be there. Niico will be there." Of course he would be there, even though Aelle tiptoed around him, and Rhuun avoided him whenever possible, nothing would keep his
shani
from sharing his night.

"Do you really think that boy loves you?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

"How many times have you asked yourself that same question?"

She stood again.

"Well, this was fun. I'll think about your party. Thanks for lunch." She tossed her
serviette
on the table and strode off.

***

I
laan went directly from lunch with Aelle to the Royal Quarters.

We have to figure out how to stop fighting
, he thought.
She's my sister and I do love her dearly, but just because she wants something doesn't make it so.

He wished he'd been a better advocate for her when they were small. Yuenne's fingerprints were all over her plans for herself and Rhuun. If he'd taken her on one of his endless adventures to the Vastness, maybe she'd be interested in something more than a royal match for herself, but for Aelle, it all came down to taking the High Seat, as if that was the only thing she could do to make Yuenne proud. The tragedy of it was, she was probably right. He wasn't even sure if Rhuun had a place at her side in her fantasy, or if her affair was with the seat itself. He knew it was never going to happen, not only because his friend would flee in terror from the idea of ruling, but because he—Ilaan—had had a little breakthrough in translation.

Rhuun might get to go on his own adventure after all.

The book was in danger of disintegrating after so many years of handling and inspection, but he knew the ink was charmed to never run or fade. He knew because Hellne told him, the day she handed him the little book and made him her spy.  At one point he'd asked Rhuun if he could tear off the back page so Rhuun could have his book and he could have his inscription. They had oh-so-carefully separated the back cover from the rest of the book. Now he had the spell all the time, and the book, which was still useful for translations, during the day.

The spell itself wasn't written in any language he knew, although the demons and humans spoke a largely common tongue. But five years of studying dead languages—demon and human —had paid off. He'd been able to pin down roots and variants here and there. And they had long since assumed the brown stain was the blood of the human author. And now he had an update for Hellne.

After running the gauntlet of her social secretary, her three ladies of attendance, and her personal guard, he came to the most terrifying off all—Diia, the Lady of All Service. This woman had been with the Queen since the war and the Weapon, since the time she was practically a child herself, and she took her job very seriously. Her job, as she explained it to him, was to keep her beloved Hellne apart from the constant invasion of noise and trouble her subjects brought to her door. If you got on Diaa's bad side, you'd sit in the corridor until dust dunes rose around your ankles.

Diia was very fond of Ilaan. He knew she saw him like the queen's little pet, he'd been coming around for years, running this or that errand for Her Grace. He wondered if she knew how much he really did for Hellne. Whether she did or not, unlike her own child, Ilaan made the Queen smile, and that was good enough for Diia.

Ilaan set a piece of fruit on her little desk, and she tut-tutted him for wasting sand on an old thing like her.

"Now Diia, if you were any younger your wings would vanish." He leaned down for a peck on the cheek. "May I visit with Her Grace this afternoon?"

"I'll announce you."

The eight or ten petitioners in the corridor heaved a collective sigh.

***

"I
heard about your little bidding war with the Conclave" Hellne said after they'd sipped their water. "Very clever. It certainly would be a shame to hide you away in the dark, Ilaan."

After all these years, he still found her an unending source of fascination. While his sister wanted her seat, Ilaan wanted her life.

"I think they want me to... ah... serve as a go-between."

"You mean they want you to spy on me. That's fine, I expect the same service. So, how many are in the Conclave these days?"

"I believe ten, Your Grace, although I haven't met them all."

She laughed. "Well, you only really need to meet one, am I right? Sorry, that was disrespectful towards your new brothers."

"You know perfectly well that no matter where I am, I am always and foremost at your service."

"My goodness, you certainly can talk!" She paused and had another sip of water. "How is your sister? Still measuring my room for her furniture?"

He paled but she had her sly smile on so he didn't panic.

"She... ah... continues to...."

"I fear Rhuun is going to disappoint that girl. But it isn't like the signs in the sand weren't there in front of her. Too bad you weren't born a female."

"I often remark upon that myself," he agreed. She toyed with her long necklace of jet and cream beads. Jewelry was another affectation that had recently come to the fore. While it was considered vulgar—and in truth, could easily cross the line of law to never display colors other than the eternal black, grey, white, and brown—there was a world of variety in the style of ornaments you could make. And what you did to adorn yourself under your clothing, well, that was not the business of the boulevard.

"Ilaan, you have the Conclave in an interesting position. They need your gifts. We both know you are talented in both the hand and the word. That's unusual. And they know we are great friends, and believe me, you're the first Mage, excuse me, Mage-to-be that's ever shared my water! But just because they are lucky to have you, and you probably cost the Zaalmage a few nights sleep with your requirements, don't underestimate them. We need them, but that doesn't mean I trust them."

He looked concerned.

"Do they plot against you? Do they think to seat someone else?"

"No." She frowned. "No, I am fairly certain they do not. But they are always busy at their own little projects. Watch them for me, Ilaan, can you do that? I'll even gift you with little bits of information you can bring back down to their Raasth. Oh, and you must be sure of one thing. Never take Rhuun down there with you. There can be no exceptions."

"May I ask why?"

She fixed him with a stare. "Let us say the air is bad for him, that far down. Promise me. He does not go down to the Raasth."

"Certainly, there is no question. Your Grace, I wanted to tell you about our project. I have something."

She lifted a brow. "After all these years and all your studying, I should hope so. I didn't give that book to you thinking it would just sit there forever."

You didn't give it to me at all,
he thought, recalling a day years ago, and how scared he’d been; in the library by himself, looking for just the right spot in just the right bookcase.
If you had, we could be having lunch on the other side of The Door by now. I’ve had to pry it away from your son, piece by piece.

"While talking with the Zaalmage, I noticed some volumes that appeared to be in a form of our book's script. I intend to finish the translation as soon as I can look at them more closely. I'm very close as it is." He took a sip of water to hide his nerves over the next question. "What happens when I've finished? Do we really intend to let Rhuun go to the other side?"

"Do you think you could stop him?"

Ilaan agreed it would be pointless to try.

"I have a job for him. I think it best that you deliver the particulars." They both knew that if Hellne told her son there was water in a cup, he’d flip it over. "I know you feel as if you're deceiving him, but hasn't it made him happier to have the book in his life? Everything you and I have done together is for his benefit."