Kings of the North (74 page)

He had frightened subjects in Chaya who needed him; he had work to do and orders to give. Though he had healed a king and once raised the taig to save a friend, now he felt how much greater was the Lady’s power, and that of the other elves. They could do what he could not. He looked at Arian and wanted nothing more than to reach Chaya in an instant, with her in his arms.

“I will come back,” he said, hoping it was the right decision.

The elvenhome light strengthened, as the Lady turned from him, and he could feel the taig’s anguish ease a little. He turned to Arian. “You have a long tale to tell,” he said. “And we have a long ride this night, so I hope to hear it all.”

O
n the way back to Chaya, Arian rode double with another Squire until they reached a relay station; then she rode beside Kieri, and the others moved aside enough for them to talk. Arian told her story; Kieri winced at her description of taig-blindness, her realization that the Lady had imposed that taig-blindness, and listened fascinated to her analysis of Dorrin as duke, her introduction of Dorrin to the taig.

“So the Lady is more than fickle,” he said. “She is cruel as well.”

“I am not sure,” Arian said.

“But she hurt you—”

“There is something—the dragon said she had made mistakes in the past, and that she had lost some power when she freed herself from the banast taig. But my feeling is that it is not all her own doing.”

“You grew up here, among elves,” Kieri said. “You are more easily entranced, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Arian said. “Certainly when I was younger, the very thought of the Lady of the Ladysforest … I was awed; we all were. But when she offered to give up her rule—”

“What?”

“There, underground. She did, and most protested, but I saw one or two who smiled before they protested. I had no time to think about it then, but now … It seems to me, Sir King—”

“Kieri. Always Kieri to you.”

“It seems to me her mistakes might be, at least in part, arranged by another. Torfinn of Pargun had his traitors in the family: why not her?”

“You think she bears no responsibility for her deeds? For refusing my requests, for instance?”

“No. I do not condone her fickleness toward you, or her other mistakes, or her neglect of the taig’s need. And she may indeed bear the whole guilt … but perhaps not.”

“Do you believe her expressions of shame and contrition?” Kieri asked.

Arian looked thoughtful. “I believe she does not intend evil. I am not sure she knows what it is until its seed has sprouted and put out leaves.”

“A dangerous ruler,” Kieri said.

“Yes.” Arian rode silently for a time, then said, “I find sorrow in my heart for her. Perhaps because we—I—thought her perfect, robed in elven light, so beautiful, so strong … we wanted her to be what she seemed.”

Kieri, too, rode in silence awhile. “I felt pity only when she knelt to me,” he said finally. “And wondered if she meant me to feel that, or if she felt what she seemed to feel. With elves, so much is seeming, illusions, glamours … I cannot completely trust her, not now.” He glanced at Arian; even in dark night, he was sure of the expression on
her
face and that it showed exactly what she was. “I trust you,” he said. “You are real.”

I
t was midmorning the next day before Kieri and Arian rode into the palace courtyard, both stained with soot and ash, thirsty and hungry enough, as Kieri put it, to eat an ox, including the hooves and horns. Whatever the dragon had done when it left them, no more scathefire burned south of the Honnorgat. Low clouds had moved in, promising snow, moisture to ease the burnt ground.

Kieri went up to change; it hurt to know that Joriam was dead, but staying dirty was no honor to him. He relished his hot bath, his clean clothes, the—apparent, at least, however temporary—safety of his kingdom. Outside his window, the first fat flakes drifted down.
Dressed, and hungrier than ever, he went downstairs, flanked by Berne and Suriya. He could smell the roast meat, the new bread. Arian came in the front entrance, wearing her Squire’s tabard again, as Garris emerged from his office.

“You’re back,” Garris said to Arian. “Put you back on the rotation?”

“No,” Kieri said, before Arian could answer. He could feel himself grinning, and Arian, pink-cheeked, was grinning, too. “Arian has a special assignment.”

Former Marine E
LIZABETH
M
OON
is the author of many novels, including
Victory Conditions, Command Decision, Engaging the Enemy, Marque and Reprisal, Trading in Danger
, the Nebula Award winner
The Speed of Dark
, and
Remnant Population
, a Hugo Award finalist. After earning a degree in history from Rice University, Moon went on to obtain a degree in biology from the University of Texas, Austin. She lives in Florence, Texas.