Rules of Ascension: Book One of Winds of the Forelands (26 page)

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Authors: David B. Coe

BOOK: Rules of Ascension: Book One of Winds of the Forelands
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The first minister bowed, then left, closing the door behind him.
Aindreas turned at the sound of the shutting door. His eyes were red, his face pale except for a bright red spot on each cheek. Javan had never seen him looking so poorly.
“You’ve been waiting to see me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Javan opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to answer. Wasn’t it clear? Didn’t the morning’s events demand a meeting?
“So we can discuss … what’s happened,” he said at last.
“Your son murdered my daughter. What more need we say?”
“I don’t believe he did.”
“Yes, I know. You told me the same thing this morning. I believe I called you a fool and a liar.”
Perhaps the Qirsi had been wise to take his sword.
“This is a terrible tragedy, Aindreas,” Javan said, fighting the impulse to respond in anger. “I’m deeply sorry for you and Ioanna. Brienne was a lovely girl. The Underrealm will shine like the sky with her light.” It was the traditional epitaph, but it seemed truer than usual in this instance. For as long as he lived, Javan would remember the girl in the radiant dress she had worn to the banquet. As queen she would have been adored throughout the land.
“Do you know that’s the first time you’ve expressed any sorrow at all at Brienne’s death.” His voice broke when he spoke the girl’s name, but he recovered quickly. “Until now you’ve shown no regret at all. You’ve done nothing but defend your son.”
He didn’t doubt for a moment that this was true, and he felt ashamed.
“You’re right, Aindreas. I should have said it earlier. My deepest apologies. No parent should ever have to see what you and Ioanna saw today.”
“Nor should a father have to live with the knowledge that his son is a monster.”
Javan closed his eyes briefly. He wanted to rail at the man, but he knew it would do more harm than good. “I honestly believe Tavis to be innocent of this crime,” he said, as evenly as he could. “I understand
that all you saw in that chamber has led you to believe him guilty. Were I in your position, I’d believe that as well. But you don’t know the boy.”
“I know that he attacked his liege man.”
He should have been ready for this. Fotir had warned him. But still the words struck him like a fist to the gut.
Aindreas smiled thinly at what he saw on Javan’s face, though the smile was fleeting and when it was gone, he looked even sadder than he had a moment before. “You’re not to blame, Javan. Neither is Shonah. Sometimes fine breeding and wise guidance aren’t enough to save a child. There’s a darkness in your boy that even Morna couldn’t light.”
Javan understood that the man was trying to be kind, that under the circumstances it was an act of uncommon grace and charity. He knew as well that Aindreas was right, at least in part. There was something dark in Tavis, though he didn’t know its source. Still, he wanted none of Aindreas’s pity.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “No matter what you think you know about him, I assure you Tavis isn’t capable of such butchery.”
“Did he attack his liege man, as your Qirsi told mine?”
“Yes, but he was drunk at the time.”
“There was an empty container of wine found beside the bed.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Enough!” Aindreas said, balling his fists until his knuckles turned white. “My daughter is dead, killed by your son’s dagger, in a bed she shared with him! He is a murderer, and he shall be dealt with as such!”
“Aindreas, I am asking you duke to duke, as the man who will soon lead Eibithar, to allow me to look into this matter before you do anything that cannot be undone. Tavis is in your prison. He can’t leave Kentigern, and he can’t hurt anyone. Keep him there as long as necessary. But let’s not compound this tragedy by executing the wrong man.”
“You’ll find, Javan, that justice in Kentigern is swift and absolute. No one in his right mind would need any further evidence to conclude that Tavis killed my daughter. You seek only to delay what you know is inevitable, and I will not allow it.”
He had tried to keep his anger in check, but this was too much.
“And you will find, Lord Kentigern,” he answered, “that Curgh’s response to injustice is equally swift. I will consider any
attempt to punish my son before all evidence has been brought to bear an act of war between our houses.”
Aindreas took a step forward. “You dare to threaten me in my own castle?”
“If that’s what it takes to get you to listen to reason. Think on it carefully, Aindreas. You don’t want to start a fight with Eibithar’s next king. You’ll soon find yourself the loneliest man in the land.”
“You’ll not be king so long as I live! I don’t care what the Rules of Ascension say! Yours is a house of butchers and liars! You’re not worthy of the crown! Guards!” he shouted before Javan could say anything more.
Two men entered the chamber.
“Take the duke back to his room. He’s not to be admitted to my chambers again.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Javan uttered a curse under his breath. “Let’s not part like this, Aindreas,” he said. “I’m certain we can reach an agreement that will satisfy us both.”
“Leave me,” Aindreas said, his tone severe. He had turned back to the window, his broad back as implacable as the walls of his castle.
Javan regarded him for another moment before turning and leading the two guards out of the chamber and into the shadows of the corridor.
He had threatened a war if Tavis was executed, and he had meant it. But somehow he didn’t trust that it would be enough to save the boy’s life.
Galdasten, Eibithar
H
e awoke with a start, opening his eyes to a small room that flickered with the lightning of a distant storm. It took Grinsa a moment to remember that they were in Galdasten now, the latest stop for the Revel. Cresenne stirred, saying something in a muffled voice that he didn’t understand, before settling back into her slumber, her arm still resting on his chest.
He lay still for several moments, allowing his racing pulse to slow before gently moving her arm, rising quietly, and stepping to the window. As an afterthought he pulled on his breeches, which were resting on the chair beside him.
Often, after a dream of this sort, Grinsa needed time to sift through the images before he could divine the vision’s meaning. In this instance, however, there could be no mistaking what he had seen or what it meant. It had never happened to him before; until tonight, he had never relived a gleaning in his sleep. Of course, this had been no ordinary gleaning. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised at all to see once more the disturbing image of Lord Tavis of Curgh chained to that dungeon wall. The boy was in Kentigern, just as Grinsa had feared. The vision itself hadn’t revealed this, but the timing of it had. That was where Tavis and his father had gone, and Grinsa was certain that the recurrence of the image meant that the gleaning had already been realized. His powers went deep, and he had learned long ago to trust them in such matters.
“Why so soon?” he whispered, glancing back at the bed. “Why couldn’t we have just a bit more time?”
As if in answer, a low rumble of thunder echoed through Galdasten City.
Already, the gleaning lay between them, undermining the trust they were trying to build like Amon’s Ocean pounding at the base of sand cliffs on the Wethy Crown. Surely she knew that he could tell her nothing of what the Qiran had shown—she was a gleaner herself. Yet, perhaps because he had been so troubled by the Fating when their romance began, she continued to allude to it whenever his mood darkened.
He could not deny that she had reason. It had occupied his thoughts ever since Tavis’s attack on his liege man. He had offered the vision as a warning, so that Tavis might be prepared for what the future held. What he had shown him was ugly, he knew, even shocking. But the image first offered by the stone would have raised more questions than it answered. Some of these might have led Tavis to make choices that would change the course of his own life and, thus, the course of events in the Forelands. Others would certainly have forced Grinsa to reveal things about himself that no one could know. At the time, he had been confident that he was doing what was best, not only for himself, but also for the boy and the land.
In the wake of all that had happened, that confidence had evaporated, leaving a residue of doubt that left him fearful and filled with remorse. Tavis might have been old enough for a Fating, but he was still just a few years past childhood. He couldn’t have been ready for what he saw in his Fating, particularly in light of what he had probably been expecting. No doubt he had been shattered by it, too ashamed to confide in his friend or his parents, and too young and scared to face his future with courage. Better to have confused him than to have done this.
Regrets did him little good, however. He knew that he had to leave the Revel, that he had to get to Kentigern as quickly as possible. By offering this Fating to the boy instead of what the stone had intended for him, Grinsa had set himself on a path, one that tied him to Tavis’s life.
And what of the life you wish to build with this woman?
That would be her question as well. He could tell himself that this was the price he paid for defying the Qiran, and the burden he bore for preserving his secret, but what would he tell Cresenne? Despite all they had shared, despite the passion that fired their nights and the love he felt building within his heart, he still had told her little about himself,
aside from the fact that he could conjure mists and winds. He wanted to confide everything—he almost had on several occasions—but each time something held him back, until he began to question his capacity for trust and love. At such times he had to remind himself that they had only been together for a turn, that they had plenty of time.
Or so he had thought.
The curtains by the window stirred with a cool wind and another flash of lightning lit the room. A clap of thunder followed, louder and closer to the light than before.
“You can’t sleep?”
He turned at the sound of Cresenne’s voice. She was sitting up, her knees drawn to her chest.
“No, I guess not.”
“The storm?”
He shook his head. “A dream.”
It almost seemed that her ears pricked up, like those of a wolf when she catches the scent of prey. Her whole posture changed. “A dream, or a vision?”
He felt his defenses going up, no doubt because the dream had involved Tavis’s Fating. Again it was coming between them.
It’s just that she’s a gleaner, too,
he told himself. She understands the power of
visions.
“A vision actually.”
“It was about Lord Tavis, wasn’t it?”
“What makes you think that?” he asked. But he wasn’t surprised. She already knew him so well.
“Was it?” she asked, ignoring his question.
Grinsa sighed, then nodded. “I think I’m linked to him in some way, maybe because I gleaned for him.”
“That makes no sense. You’ve done thousands of Fatings. Why should you be tied to this one boy, but to none of the others?”
What choice did he have but to lie? “I don’t know. Maybe because the stone showed us such a disturbing image. Maybe because he reacted to that image as he did.” He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said again. “But tonight I dreamed his Fating again. I think what he and I saw has already come to pass.”
“So soon?” she asked, looking surprised. “Fatings usually look further ahead.”
Once more, as he always did when the subject of Tavis’s Fating arose, he felt that she was trying to make him reveal what he had
seen. Perhaps some good would come of the young lord meeting his fate so quickly. At least this way, when he and Cresenne found a way to be together again, the matter would be behind them.
“Some do,” he said. “Not this one.”
“Well, if you’re right,” she said, smiling at him, “and it has come to pass, then it’s over, isn’t it? We can forget about Tavis and his Fating and just enjoy each other.”
He turned back to the window. It had started to rain, and the wind was blowing large, heavy drops of water into the room and onto the white curtain. He should have pulled the shutters closed, but instead he just stood there, getting wet.
“It’s not that easy. I have to help him, Cresenne. I have to go to Kentigern.”
“What?”
He heard the bed creak and, facing her again, he saw that she had risen and was wrapping herself in a light robe.
“You’re leaving the Revel? You’re leaving me?”
Grinsa closed his eyes. “I don’t want to, but—”
“Then don’t!”
“I have to!” he said, his voice rising.
Someone in the next room pounded on the wall.
“I have to,” he told her again, lowering his voice. “Somebody has to help him.”
“His father is duke of Curgh! By this time next year he’ll be king! If he can’t help Tavis what makes you think that you can? You’re a gleaner, Grinsa. We both are. We see the future, and we offer it to others to do with what they will. But once we’ve shown it to them, there’s nothing more for us to do.” She came forward and put her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. “I know that it’s hard sometimes, but that’s the nature of our power.”
After a moment he put his arms around her as well. Qirsar knew, he didn’t want to leave. He took a deep breath, smelling her hair, her skin.
Why so soon?
She kissed his chest, and then, tilting her head upward, kissed him fully on the lips.
“Come back to bed,” she whispered. “Let me convince you to stay with me.”
They kissed again, but after a moment Grinsa stepped back.
“It wouldn’t take much to convince me,” he said, feeling a tightening
in his chest. “That kiss almost did it. So I think I’d better gather my things instead.”
Her expression changed so swiftly that one might have thought he had struck her.
“You’re really going to do this.” She offered it as a statement, a hard edge to her voice.
“I have to.”
She threw up her hands. “Why?”
He couldn’t possibly tell her all of it, but he felt that he owed her something, some small piece of the truth. “I told you before: I’m tied to him somehow. I think that his fate and mine are bound to each other.”
That, of all things, caught her attention. She took a step back from him, narrowing her eyes. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. As I said, it’s probably tied to his Fating.”
“That must have been an extraordinary gleaning,” she said, sounding bitter.
“It was.” As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted them, for he knew what would come next.
“What is it you saw, Grinsa? What is it that’s dragging you away from me?”
He almost told her then, just to be done with it. But even with what he had done, this was not his fate to tell. It was Tavis’s, and as a gleaner he was bound to silence.
“We’ve been through this. You know I can’t tell you.”
“Even now?” she demanded. “You’re leaving me, running off to Kentigern to save a boy you barely know and don’t particularly like. And still you can’t tell me what you saw?”
“No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She turned her face away, but otherwise she didn’t move. Neither did he. They just stood there in the darkness, saying nothing. He sensed her anger and he wondered if he should have been angry as well. But his sadness overwhelmed everything else.
Lightning blazed, illuminating the room like the sun for just an instant. Thunder followed almost immediately, rattling the walls and making the floor tremble like a frightened child.
“I’m not going forever, Cresenne,” he said at last. “I’ll do what I have to do to help Tavis, and then I’ll return to the Revel, wherever it is.”
She nodded, still looking away. “Of course,” she said, but her tone carried no conviction.
He stepped closer to her and touched her cheek, making her meet his gaze. She offered a small smile, but it only lasted an instant.
“This is our last night together for some time,” he said softly. “Let’s not waste any more of it. Come to bed with me.”
But she shook her head, and he thought he saw tears in her pale eyes. “I don’t think I can,” she whispered. “I’d better go.”
She might as well have kicked him in the stomach.
“Go where?” he managed. “It’s the middle of the night.” He waved a hand vaguely at the window. “It’s storming.”
“Trin’s down the hall,” she said. “I can stay with him.”
Trin. If he was going to drive her to another man’s room, best it be his. How had this happened? He was reeling, like an army caught unawares by a more powerful foe.
He swallowed. “If that’s what you want …”
She glared at him. “What I want? What I want is for you to tell me what this is all about! You wake up in the middle of the night from some dream that might have no meaning at all, and suddenly announce that you’re leaving me to go to Kentigern to save a spoiled, arrogant boy who may not even need to be saved. And you have the gall to talk about what I want?”
“Cresenne—”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You haven’t been honest with me from the start. It’s one thing to keep a gleaning to yourself because you’re a gleaner and that’s what you’re supposed to do. But now you tell me that your fate and the fate of this boy are linked, and that changes everything. I thought we cared for each other; I thought maybe you were starting to love me.”
“I am. I do already.”
“I don’t believe you. You can’t love a person, and at the same time keep such secrets from them.”
If you only knew,
he wanted to say. Sometimes he wondered how one person could have so many secrets. But that hadn’t kept him from falling in love with her. Once again he wanted to tell her all of it, to end all the lies right then. And once again, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Perhaps he had been hiding the truth for too long and was no longer capable of sharing it with anyone. Or maybe he was just hurt at that moment and unwilling to confide in
her. Whatever the reason, all he said was “Believe what you will. But I do love you.”
She turned her back to him, pulling off her robe and reaching for her clothes. Another flicker of lightning lit the soft, pale skin of her back.
“There’s no reason for you to leave,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll go. I just need to pack my things.”

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