Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 08 (30 page)

           
"Of course." The words
were ash. If he opened his mouth too widely, he would spew it like a dismantled
firecairn.

           
Gavan laughed. Yellow eyes were
bright and amused, and wholly inoffensive. "If you are feeling unworthy in
the aftermath of bonding, it is a natural thing. The gift—and the power that
comes with it—is entirely humbling." He arched black brows. "Even for
Mujhars—and men who will be Mujhar."

           
All of Kellin's anticipated
arguments in favor of severing the partial bond with Sima evaporated.

           
He would get no understanding from
Gavan; likely, he would get nothing even remotely approaching sympathy. He
would simply be stricken from the birthlines and summarily removed from the
succession.

           
Leaving no one. "Blais,"
he said abruptly. "There was a time when some warriors wanted Blais to be
named prince in my place."

           
"That was many years ago."

           
Kellin felt the dampness of
perspiration stipple his upper lip. He wanted-to brush it dry, but to do so
would call attention to his desperation. "The a'saii still exist, do they
not? Somewhere in Homana, separate from here . . . they still desire to make
their own tahlmorras without benefit of the prophecy."

           
Gavan lifted his cup of honey brew.
"There are always heretics."

           
Kellin watched him drink. If Blais
had survived— He put it into words. "If Blais had survived, and I had
gained no lir, would he have been named to the Lion?"

           
Gavan's eyes were steady. "In
lieu of a proper heir, there would have been no other. But such a thing would
have delayed completion for another generation, perhaps more. Blais lacked the
Solindish and Atvian bloodlines. It would have taken time—more time than we
have. - . ." Gavan drank, then set aside his cup. "But what profit in
this, Kellin? You are a warrior. You have a lir. It falls to you, now, without
question. It all falls to you."

           
Coals crumbled in the firecairn.
Illumination wavered, then stilled. It glowed in Gavan's eyes.

           
"Too heavy," Kellin
murmured, swallowing tightly.

           
Gavan laughed aloud. A hand
indicated Sima.

           
"No burden is too heavy if
there is a lir to help you bear it."

           
Though offered a place in Clankeep,
Kellin did not accept it. There was something else he wanted—needed—to do;
something he should have done years before. He had avoided it with a steadfast
intransigence, taking a quiet, vicious pleasure in the wrong done him because
it fanned the flames of rebellion. A part of him knew very well that without
what he perceived as true cause, his defiance might yet be warped into
something other than a natural maturing of personality. He was expected to be
different from others because of his heritage and rank; hot temper and hasty
words were often overlooked because of who he was.

           
That in itself sometimes forced him
to more rebellion because he needed to provoke a response that would mitigate
self-contempt.

           
He knew very well what the mountain
cat said was right. He was too angry, and had been for years. But he knew its
cause; it was hardly his fault. A motherless infant prince willingly deserted
by a father had little recourse to other emotions. Kellin stood outside the
pavilion. Like Gavan's, it also bore a fox painted on its sides, though the
base color was blue instead of saffron. The pavilion was difficult to see in
the darkness; moonlight was obscured by clustered trees and overhanging
branches. The Cheysuli had moved Clankeep after the Ihlini attack, for a part
of the forest had burned. Only rain a day or two later had prevented more
destruction.

           
Accost him now, just after
awakening, so he has no time to marshal defenses or rhetoric. Kellin drew in a
deep breath that expanded sore ribs, then called through the closed doorflap
that he desired to see the shar tahl.

           
A moment only, and then a hand drew
aside the flap so that the man stood unobstructed. He wore leather in place of
robes, and lir-gold weighted his arms. He was alert; Kellin thought perhaps the
man had not been asleep after all.

           
"Aye?" And then the
warrior's expression altered. An ironic arch lifted black brows. "I should
have expected this. You would not come all the times I invited you in the
daylight . . . this suits your character."

           
It sparked an instant retort.
"You know nothing about my character!"

           
The older man considered it.
"That is true," he said at last. "What I know of you—now—has to
do with the tales they tell." He widened the doorflap. "By your
expression, this is not intended to be a sanguine visit. Well enough—I had
gathered by your continued silence you did not accept my offers of aid as
anything other than insult."

           
"Not insult," Kellin said.
"Unnecessary."

           
"Ah." The man was in his
late fifties, not so much younger than the Mujhar. Thick hair grayed heavily,
but the flesh of his face was still taut, and his eyes were intent. "But
now there is necessity."

           
Kellin did not look at Sima. He
simply pointed to her. "I want to be rid of that."

           
"Rid?" The shar tahl's
irony evaporated. "Come in," he said curtly.

           
Kellin ducked in beside him.
Hostility banished the dullness engendered by Gavan's honey brew; nerves made
him twitchy. He stood aside in stiff silence as the shar tahl permitted the
mountain cat to enter.

           
He waited edgily. There were many
things he wanted to say, and he anticipated multiple pointed responses designed
to dissuade him. The shar tahl would no more understand his desire than Gavan
would have; the difference was, Kellin was better prepared to withstand
anything the shar tahl might suggest by way of argument. He disliked the man.
Dislike lent him the strength of will to defy a man whose service was to the
gods, and to the preservation of tradition within the clans.

           
"Be seated," the shar tahl
said briefly. Then, to Sima, "You are well come to my pavilion."

           
The cat lay down. Her tail thumped
once. Then she stilled, huge eyes fixed on Kellin.

           
With a grimace of impatience, Kellin
sat down.

           
Neither food nor drink was offered;
tacit insult, designed to tell him a thing or two. Then we are well matched. I
have things to say as well.

           
"So." The older man's
expression was closed, severe in its aloofness. "You want to be rid of
your lir. Since it is well known you had none, I can only assume this is a very
recent bonding."

           
"Aye, very recent; last
night." Pointedly, Kellin added, "When I was a captive of the
Ihlini."

           
The shar tahl's expression did not
alter; he seemed fixed upon a single topic. "Yet now you wish to sever
that bond."

           
Kellin's hands closed into fists
against crossed legs. "Does it mean nothing to you that the Prince of
Homana was captured by the Ihlini, and less that he escaped?"

           
The shar tahl's mouth tightened
minutely. "We will speak of that later. At this moment the Prince of
Homana's desire to sever what the gods have made for him is of greater
concern."

           
"Because it has to do with
gods, and you are a shar tahl." Kellin did not bother to hide the derision
in his tone. "By all means let us discuss that which you believe of more
import; after all, what is the welfare of Homana's future Mujhar compared to
his desire to renounce a gift of the gods?"

           
"Yet if you renounce this bond,
there is no more need to concern ourselves with the welfare of Homana's future
Mujhar, as he would no longer be heir." The shar tahl's eyes burned
brightly. "But you know that. I can see it in your face." He nodded
slightly. "So you have been to Gaven already and what you have heard does
not please you. Therefore I must assume this meeting is meant merely to air
your grievance, though you know very well nothing can come of it. You cannot
renounce the lir-bond, lest you be stripped of your rank. And you would never
permit that; it would echo your jehan's actions."

           
Kellin's response was immediate.
"I did not come to speak of my jehan.”

           
"But we will." The older
man's tone allowed no room for protest. "We should have had this
conversation years ago."

           
"We will not have it now. My
Jehan has nothing to do with this."

           
'"Your jehan has much to do
with this. His desertion of you has to do with everything in your life."

           
"Enough."

           
"I have hardly begun."

           
"Then I will end it!"
Kellin glared at the man. "I am still the Prince of Homana. My rank is
higher than yours."

           
"Is it?" Black brows
arched. "I think not. Not in the eyes of the gods .. . ah, of course—you
do not recognize their sovereignty." The shar tahl lifted a quelling hand.
"In fact, you detest them because you believe they stole your Jehan from
you."

           
Much as he longed to, Kellin knew
better than to shout. To give in to such a display was to weaken his position.
"He was meant to be the heir. Not I. Not yet; my time was meant for later.
They did steal him."

           
"A warrior follows his
tahlmorra."

           
"Or obstructs the
prophecy?" Kellin shook his head. "I think what they say of him is
true: he is mad. No madman bases his actions on what is real. He does as he
does because his mind is addled."

           
"Aidan's mind is no more addled
than your own," the shar tahl retorted. "In fact, some would argue it
is more sane than yours."

           
"Mine!"

           
The warrior smiled grimly.
"Your reputation precedes you."

           
For only an instant Kellin was
silent. Then he laughed aloud, letting the sound ml the pavilion.

           
"Because I drink? Because I
wager? Because I lie with whores?" The laughter died, but the grin was
undiminished. "These actions appear to be a tradition within my family.
Shall I name you the names? Brennan, Hart, Corin—"

           
"Enough." The irony was
banished. "You came because you wish to renounce your lir. Allow me to do
my office. Bide a moment, my lord." The shar tahl rose abruptly and moved
to the doorflap.

           
He ducked out, leaving Kellin alone
with a silent black mountain cat. After a moment the priest returned and
resumed his seat. His smile was humorless. "How may I serve my lord?"

           
Kellin's impatience faded. Hostility
dissipated.

           
If the man could aid him, he had
best mend his manner. "The bonding was done hastily, to enable me to
escape the Ihlini. Even she admits it." He did not glance at Sima.
"She speaks of balance, and the danger in lacking it. I have none."

           
The shar tahl now was serious.
"You assumed lir-shape in anger?"

           
"In anger, fear, panic."
Kellin sighed; the vestiges of pride and hostility faded utterly. Quietly, he
explained what had happened—and how he had killed a man by tearing out his
throat.

           
The dark flesh by the older man's
eyes folded upon itself. His eyes seemed to age. "A harsh bonding. But
more than that, an improper one. It is only half done."

           
"Half?" Kellin looked at
the cat. "Do you mean I could renounce her?"

           
"No. Not safely. Your
lirlessness is ended; half-bonded or no, you will never be what you were. The
question now is, what will you permit yourself to be?"

           
Alarm bloomed. "What do you
mean?"

           
"You are angry," the shar
tahl said. "I perhaps understand it better than most—your jehan and I have
shared many confidences." The severity of the face now was replaced with a
human warmth that nearly unmanned Kellin. "Aidan and I have spent much
time together. It was why I desired to speak with you before, to explain his
reasoning."

           
"Let him explain it!"

           
The shar tahl sighed. "The
proper time is not yet come."

           
Bitterness engulfed. "There
never will be a 'proper time'!" Kellin cried. "That is the
point!"

           
"No." The shar tahl lifted
a hand, then let it drop. "That is not the point. There will come a time,
I promise -- when the gods intend that you should meet."

           
"When he intends, you mean .. .
and he never will." Kellin gathered himself to rise- "This is
bootless. It wastes my time."

           
"Sit down." The tone was a
whipcrack. "You have come to me with a serious concern that needs to be
addressed. Set aside your hatred and hostility long enough, if you will, to
permit me to explain that you are in grave danger."

           
"I have escaped the
Ihlini."

           
"This has nothing to do with
the Ihlini. This has to do with yourself. It is of the balance I speak."

           
The shar tahl glanced at Sima.
"Has she explained what could happen?"

           
"That I might be locked in
beast-form if I lose my balance?" Kellin's mouth twisted. "Aye. After
she urged me to take lir-shape."

           
"Then she must have believed it
necessary." The shar tahl studied Sima with something very akin to
sympathy, which seemed an odd thing to Kellin; the lir were considered far
wiser than their warriors. "The lir are proscribed from attacking Ihlini.
If she urged you to assume lir-shape before the proper time, fully cognizant of
the risk, it was because she believed it necessary to preserve your life."
The yellow eyes were intent. "The life has been preserved. Now we must
insure that the mind within the body is preserved as well."

           
"Burr—" Kellin cut it off.
It was time for truth, not protest.
Defiance
crumbled in the face of his admission.
"I have resented you for years."

           
"I know." The shar tahl
reached for a jug and cups, then poured two full. "Drink. What you must
know will dry your mouth; wet it first, and then we shall begin."

           
"Can I learn it by dawn?"