Land of Night (31 page)

In some dark and frightful corner of Liall's mind, a bit of sun grayed the deep night, and he saw Nadei with the knife in his hand before his brother lowered the blade and closed the door between them forever. Liall had finally faced the true and naked memory of him, without denial, without excuse, and so the price of the past was paid.

Scarlet craned his neck to look at Liall, the question bright in his dark eyes.

"Yes.” Liall cupped Scarlet's cheek as the lights painted glimmering ribbons of silver in his black hair, smiling to hide the staggering sense of relief as Nadei's face grew dimmer and dimmer in the grayness. “That is what it is, t'aishka. Magic."

"What does that mean?” Scarlet begged, suddenly earnest. “T'aishka."

Liall bent to kiss him, long and possessively. “Forever beloved,” he answered at last. “One who I would love from life to life, in whatever existence awaits us beyond the Overworld. One I believe I have known before, many times."

Scarlet looked up at Liall searchingly for a long moment before he poked Liall in the arm. “Romantic."

"Entirely guilty, I fear,” Liall grinned, and then became serious again. “We should plan on a journey,” he murmured, his fingers stroking Scarlet's face. “After a new heir is named and the kingdom settled.” Excitement and new hope touched Liall's voice. “A fresh start for us."

"North?"

"We're as far north as one can get in this world, my love. I was thinking south."

Scarlet gave Liall a narrow look, but his mouth quirked. “Sailing there, are we?"

"Months and months, yes."

"What's south of Byzantur?"

Liall's blue eyes twinkled. “I had a notion to explore the Southern Kingdoms. Artinia and the like."

"Artinia,” Scarlet breathed.

Liall nodded, gently tucking a lock of Scarlet's dark hair behind his ear. “Artinia. That is little more than a fragment of a tale among Hilurin, is it not? Like a line dropped from a fable, the barest bit of story some tale-spinner thinks can be cut without incident."

"Is it real?"

"So the mariners say,” Liall smiled, teasing. “Of course it is real. Have you not learned by now that all fairytales have some measure of truth in them?"

"And we're going?"

"We go together, or not at all. I have found that the company of a certain redbird is all I need to make life worth living again."

Scarlet seemed to think about it for several moments. “Masdren is going to be cross with me."

"For?” Anxiety tinged his tone.

"For breaking my promise to settle down and become a proper Hilurin. That's twice now. He'll be very cross indeed this time."

Liall threw his arms around Scarlet with a growl and lifted him off his feet. “So you like to frighten your lover, do you? I thought you were reconsidering."

"Never. You won't be rid of me that easily,” Scarlet chuckled. “We can send word to him, can't we? And to my sister in Nantua. Oh, Annaya will never believe it all!"

"We can send word and a barrel of gold to go with it, if that's your pleasure, my t'aishka,” Liall answered, laughing. Liall buried his face in Scarlet's neck and inhaled his apple-sweet scent. “Oh, my dear one..."

There was a knock at the door, and outside in the hall rose the sound of many voices.

Scarlet sighed as Liall set him down reluctantly. “Do you want me to see what they want?"

"No.” Liall walked to the door, frowning. “I will send them away.” He entered the common room and called for Nenos, but the servant was in the outer foyer, and when Liall opened that door he found Nenos overwhelmed by a great crowd of men and women who packed the wide hall outside the apartments. Ressanda was in the forefront, standing beside Alexyin and Khatai Jarek. Golden-eyed Jochi was there, too, pale and bandaged with his arm in a tight sling, but on his feet. Liall stood staring at them, and they all fell silent as one. Ressanda was first. He went to one knee and bowed his head.

"Hail Nazheradei, King of Rshan na Ostre."

To run from something your entire life, to think you have escaped it utterly, and then to have it overtake you in the space of an instant. For one long moment, Liall literally could not breathe.

"No,” Liall whispered, stricken. “Not me, Ressanda. Never.” He held out his hands beseechingly to his old teacher. “Alexyin, please. I cannot..."

"There is no other,” Alexyin said, also falling to his knees. Liall had never seen him look so old. “It is you, or our kingdom dies now. The barons cannot agree on another, and there will be war."

Jochi caught Liall's eye and nodded, a gentle expression of understanding on his features. “It must be,” he said. He leaned heavily on Alexyin's shoulder to kneel as well. Jarek bowed shortly, as a soldier should to her ruler, and knelt heavily on the polished floor, her armor creaking.

Liall scanned the faces behind Alexyin and Jochi, barons and nobles all, and saw they were right. There were many expressions: hope, dislike, excitement, greed, outright hate. Everything hinged on his answer. If he declined in favor of Ressanda or some other worthy noble, the frail truce with Eleferi would be broken. New allies would become new enemies. Even Shikhoza would turn on her recent display of alliance and become a mortal enemy if she sighted the possibility of the crown again. The realm would be torn apart.

"The council of Barons has convened and decided,” Ressanda intoned like a prayer, his head bowed. “We are in agreement. You are our king."

Ressanda's daughter, Ressilka, elegantly knelt at her father's side and made a humble obeisance to Liall. The crown of her red-gold hair shone in the lamp light: Ressilka of the royal blood, who had been destined to marry a prince, and someday must, if the line of Camira-Druz was not to die out entirely.

Slowly, Shikhoza's hand rose and settled on Eleferi's shoulder, and they knelt as one. “Hail, King Nazheradei,” Shikhoza proclaimed in a cool voice. Her gaze was shrewd. She knew that Liall had little choice, or none at all.

Eleferi's head was bowed with Shikhoza's, obeisant and humble, but Liall knew their hearts were not turned, only their public policy, and for a moment he utterly despaired, feeling trapped and breathless, until he felt the warm touch of a smaller hand in his. Liall looked down to see Scarlet at his side. Relief and gratitude flooded him.

"I'm here,” Scarlet said simply. His grin was a pedlar's grin, endlessly confident and proud and honest. “I'll always be here, Liall."

Liall gripped Scarlet's fingers tight in promise. “And I will always be yours,” he vowed. “I swear it.” Liall turned to the watchers. His thumb brushed the back of Scarlet's hand in a private caress. “It is the old way,” he announced in a ringing voice that carried down the halls. “My t'aishka is Hilurin, and he has the magic of the Anlyribeth. If any man objects to this, I will answer him with my sword."

None spoke a whisper, and Liall drew himself up taller, though inwardly he felt as if the very earth had rattled under his feet. “And this is not the end of the changes to come. As king, my brother Cestimir would have led us—not forward into a new world that our people fear so much—but back to the old one, where we welcomed many nations to Rshan and feared none, and we were known and respected by all. It is time we remembered who we are."

"Hail, King!” Ressanda called out in his deep voice, raising a fist to the air as if daring anyone to silence him.

"Hail, King!"

Other voices took up the call inside the palace, echoing far down the stone corridors and in towers and salons and chambers. The sound rose like a wave, falling like a choir or a patter of rain: Rshan's ancient plea at the death of monarchs, the sunrise after shadow, triumph after defeat, the mourning call of a kingdom pleading for a king.