Stormed Fortress (93 page)

* * *

They found Arithon s
'
Ffalenn in the sail-loft at the chandler
'
s, made over as hospice to succour the injured too stricken to move. There, where the crash of the enemy
'
s incursion shocked vibrations through walls and floor-boards, Parrien first heard the notes that a masterbard
'
s skill wrought to fuse shattered bone and torn ligaments. The sweet clarity pierced the dust-sifted air like the chime of steel rings, dropped onto sheet glass. The harmonics sheared the dross from the mind, and lifted the spirit into ineffable joy.

Caught within the dimmed stairway, Parrien s
'
Brydion lost a gasping breath and crumpled onto his knees. Mailed fingers pressed into his face to stop tears, he tried and failed to recover. One gasping shudder followed the next, until he was helplessly weeping. If he thought he had ever known beauty before, the musician
'
s winged mastery reformed him.

Talvish, beside him, was better prepared. Aboard the
Khetienn,
seventeen years before, he had witnessed the first, explorative measures an exacting practice had shaped to enact today
'
s healing. In matchless splendour, the bard
'
s talent redressed suffering, bleak disharmony knitted to wholeness. Now, farsight and initiate mastery evoked a fresh edge of refinement: the cascading melody brought to full flower might have balanced a stone on the wisp of a moonbeam.

'
Y
ou won
'
t die, though your heart
'
s fit to burst
'
Talvish managed. His fraught grip braced the larger man
'
s weight, while the seconds flowed past, gilded in exquisite sound. Thoughts wrung still, the chance-met observer could only endure, while the dynamic framework of life was made whole, and the revivified spirit unfolded and ached for a balance precocious and glorious.

Scarcely bearable, the onslaught found closure at last. Spent strings dwindled into taut silence. Roughshod against calm, the clamour of war continued its harsh storm outside. Within, the stark cry for retreat reached crescendo: felled on the stair, Parrien shuddered, unable to rise.

Talvish hauled him erect.
'
Your doing taught my liege that entrained sequence. He wasn
'
t born knowing the key to access those rarefied octaves.
'

'
I once broke his leg?
'
cracked Parrien, bitter.
'
Ath
'
s own mercy!
'
The depth of such fierce sensitivity daunted.
'
What brought your crown prince to return here?
'

'
His friends, and a life debt.
'
Talvish cli
mbed onwards, beyond resolute. 'Y
ou couldn
'
t have realized. But Arithon renounced your family
'
s alliance for reasons of love. The Seer in him would not be reconciled.
'

Which truth fitted too well: laid open by his receptive talents, a masterbard of such stature could never endorse the destruction that ravaged the citadel now. The failing sea-walls were soaked in let blood. That held line could not last. Before sunset, the harbour-side keep would be shattered by the invasion. The brother charged as the ducal ambassador struggled to rally his bludgeoned wits. If he would appeal for the grace of an interview, his plea must be made before the musician engaged the next healing.

Kyrialt kept steadfast guard at the threshold. In forest leathers and clan braid, his formal stance stayed immaculate, until sight of the scarlet s
'
Brydion colours jabbed him to wary antagonism. State manners could not curb the frowning glare he shot Talvish.

'
Let his Grace deter
m
ine!
'
the blond liegeman murmured.
'
Allow us to pass.
'
Wan light at the threshold i
ll
umined his face, unveiling the fact he was haggard.

Kyrialt
'
s umbrage dissolved into shock.
'
Tell me! What
'
s happened? Where
'
s Fionn Areth?
'

This time, as grief locked Talvish
'
s speech, Parrien tendered gruff answer.
'
I
'
ve not seen the goatherd. Vhandon fell holding the breach in the shipworks, and I am not sent with the message for consolation.
'

But the High Lord of Alland
'
s past heir proved too seasoned to bait.
'
Where his Grace of Rathain is concerned, your family
'
s entangling history predates me. Never show me fresh cause!
'

Parrien acknowledged the challenge, teeth bared. Pleased not to be misjudged for his court-dress, he bulled ahead, knowing Talvish would hound every byplay stirred up in the sail-loft.

Two steps stopped him cold. No rife bluster could ease the sight of the torment laid on the rows of stained pallets.

There, shorn of arms, and outside secured walls, the man reviled as the Spinner of Darkness chose to spend the matchless gift of his resource. With Elaira beside him, and Glendien
'
s assistance, he bent his royal knee to administer to the abandoned, the wrecked, and the hopeless. Groaning men lying gutted by pole arms and steel; bundled forms butchered senseless, that laboured to breathe; others scorched beyond recognition by fire. Children bled limp by the loss of a limb, or afflicted with crushed ribs and the cyanotic pallor of flail chest. These lay side by side with brawny smiths and prime craftsmen, once gainfully busy supporting their kinsfolk, and now at death
'
s door from the mangling accidents that struck when the torsion ropes strained and snapped under load on the arbalests and catapults.

The ugliest face of the war sheltered here, where expedient logic begged for the clean end of a mercy stroke.

'
Why?
'
Parrien pealed, riven numb.
'
Heal them or not, you can
'
t possibly save them!
'

'
I would be here, anyway, given what
'
s passed.
'
The slight figure bearing the lyranthe overheard, aroused from the languor of after-shock. Arithon stood. The state cloth that met his turned glance shouted warning. He touched Elaira
'
s lips in swift reassurance, then handed his heirloom instrument off into Glendien
'
s keeping. Alone by discreet choice, he approached the intrusive s
'
Brydion petitioner.

Close up, beyond artifice, his severe features were stripped: wide open still to the insight that tapped the well-spring of deep mystery. In unguarded green eyes, Parrien saw his own sorrow, unbearably mirrored. More, the tuned range of subtle awareness mourned every tear yet to be written, the more vividly seen by rogue-talented s
'
Ahelas vision.

The s
'
Brydion spokesman reeled before a compassion he felt flawed and unfit to withstand. As the forms of diplomacy failed, the lean hand of the prince steered him wide of the horror sprawled on the cots.

'
You have my attention,
'
said Arithon s
'
Ffalenn.

Sweating before that initiate awareness, Parrien needled,
'
Why not just flay my thick skin with an axe?
'

Arithon fielded the jab with neutrality.
'
I
'
d save the discomfort. Masks drop without bleeding.
'

'
Not on this turf,
'
Parrien countered.
'
We grew up stretching Kalesh
'
s spies on the rack, and our mother died screaming, poisoned by Admin
'
s assassins.
'
Stripped of pride, his appeal emerged without effort, unleashed by his torrent of longing.
'
For my brother, and the sake of this law-bound clan holding, your Grace can do nothing more than attend to the hopelessly wounded?
'

'
The
born
right to live that
'
s given each person was never assigned to my keeping. Nor could I force sense against the grain of your duke
'
s short-sighted decisions.
'
Arithon inclined his head to acknowledge Elaira, who had dragged up two sail-maker
'
s stools to smooth the thorny audience.

After Parrien, the crown prince seated himself. Now the extent of his weariness showed. In tight lines at his eyes, and in the searing constraint imposed by the
Evensta
r
'
s
defeat. Yet Arithon would not bow to grief. A spirit forged by the trials of Kewar
'
s maze, his reserves could match lacerating distress with frank tenderness. The present moment holds all our strengths. I have not given over my hope! Of those futures left that my choice can still influence, I act for the one that unfolds with least death. Many of your citadel
'
s folk may go free.
'
As Parrien
'
s composure threatened to break, he assured,
'
Even yet!
'
Careful to salve wounded dignity, Arithon waited a moment, then qualified.
'
If the Mistwraith
'
s influence can be disarmed, then my half-brother
'
s insane enmity will become temporarily suspended.
'

Long enough, maybe, to blunt the brutality driving the inevitable conquest. Respect, before reticence, allowed Parrien to grasp that unpleasant gist.

'
I cannot salvage your stake in the citadel
'
Arithon said finally.
'
Yet if the
s
'
Ilessid
royal gift can be freed from the curse, we can steward the chance of just treatment for your civilian survivors.
'

No fool, Parrien sprang to the crux.
'
I should retire without fuss? Accept Lysaer
'
s criminal charges? Daelion
'
s fate, prince! You will just stand aside, while your s
'
Brydion
spies
get arraigned by
s
'
Ilessid
for treason?
'
Now shadowed by Talvish
'
s defensive presence, closed in behind his right shoulder, Parrien blazed with honest agony,
'
We as good as married our honour to yours, Teir
'
s
'
Ffalenn! I see we were only a sop, all along, to be thrown to the jaws of your enemies.
'

'
Your own enemies, since Riverton!
'
snapped Arithon. Annoyed, but not vicious, his crisp outrage answered.
'
Before that hour, the s
'
Brydion name was untainted. Mearn
'
s post as ambassador stayed above all suspicion! Dare you recall, Parrien? I once fought your bullheaded choice to a standstill! You broke my right leg. Overrode my appeal, that Lysaer
'
s royal ship works should be left to bide without your killing spree of reprisal!
'

'
We made that mistake, and on our own merits,
'
Parrien was swift to admit.
'
We have lived by the sword for too long. Our friendships are forthright, and founded on passion. We also decided to help Princess Ellaine. She was not abandoned to wrestle a plight that trapped her as a helpless game-piece.
'

When Arithon said nothing, Parrien bore in, probing hard to smoke out flinching weakness.
'
In fact, are you Torbrand
'
s most pithless descendant, to shelter the peace at all costs? If you do hold the power to sway Lysaer
'
s hatred, then our blood-line sees an ignominious end because you gagged on a principle! Can you sit back on your string plucker
'
s arse and, like the rank coward, do nothing?
'

'
But I have not done nothing,
'
Arithon corrected. He stood up and bowed.
'
Alone of your kindred, Mearn saved his family when I invoked the Paravian sword to enact intervention. Fianzia
'
s first-born will arrive in two weeks, under the protection of Verrain at Methisle. By the gift of forevision bred into my ancestry, I have Seen that child
'
s Naming! On grounds of succession, your brother
'
s appeal is already met.
'
Unfazed as the larger man shoved to his feet, Arithon dismissed,
'
I have no more patience! Go and tell Bransian on my royal oath: your ancestral lineage survives beyond question.
'

Parrien
'
s electrified surge to draw steel was arrested on Talvish
'
s sword-point.
'
No, brother! Not here. Not now, against this man. Indulge your blind rage, and you will murder hope. Trust me, I beg you! If you press this fight, you will have abandoned your own wife and children. On my word, by my years of true service, my liege has not told you everything!
'

"Then explain!
'
snarled Parrien to Arithon
'
s turned back.
'
Straightaway and in unvarnished language, say why I shouldn
'
t drop you both to rot alongside your doomed lot of carrion.
'

'
In fact he must die, at least by appearance
'
a breathless voice interjected. The intrusion was Dakar
'
s, barged through without leave as he made his rushed entry. In the teeth of Parrien
'
s suspicion, he added,
'
Sparing the sentiment, these wounded also offer the key to salvage the threat being taken with Rathain
'
s crown heritage.
'

'
Where
'
s Fionn Areth?
'
asked Arithon, spun volte-face in a sharp change of subject.
'
Dakar! Why isn
'
t the grass-lander with you?
'

The Mad Prophet ran over that question, roughshod.
'
Shall I remind you as Fellowship spokesman? I answer a higher authority than yours! Your Grace, clear this room. We have run out of time! Only
one
life inside this doomed rock pile is not considered replaceable!
'

As Parrien purpled, and Talvish changed stance in vain hope to forestall a royal explosion, the Mad Prophet shed his cloak and slumped on a stool, unstrung by puffing exertion.

'
You risk moving too late!
'
he accosted the prince, beyond caring whose temper might savage him.
'
The mule-headed sentries permitted my passage because at this moment, enemy sappers are working the rock to crack the underground cisterns. The sea quarter
'
s condemned, and Parrien
'
s stranded. The duke
'
s guard are torching the lift.
'