Suriax (10 page)

“What is going on here?” A woman dressed in a
robe and nightgown entered from one of the other rooms in the
suite.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for the
disturbance. We were just removing this law breaker. He broke into
the palace and your room, Milady.”

Kern looked at the woman before him and
recognized her instantly from her picture. Many years passed since
the portrait was painted, but there was no mistaking her identity.
This was his sister. “Queen Mirerien, I need to talk to you. My
name is Kern Tygi . . .”

“You are aware that breaking into the palace
is a crime?” she asked, cutting him off.

“Yes, but . . .”

“Take him away.” With a dismissive wave, she
turned to go.

“I’m your brother!”

Mirerien stopped short and turned back to
face him, studying him intently. The guards waited dutifully for
her response. “Even if that were somehow true, it would be no
reason for breaking the law. There are proper channels and
procedures to go through.”

“Wow, you are just as he described.”

“Who?”

“Uncle Frex.”

Her previously controlled, emotionless
demeanor melted away. “Frex? I thought he died.”

“Not yet, but he isn’t much longer for this
world. That’s actually what brought me here. To keep me safe, he’s
been living in a self imposed exile all these years. I wanted to
bring him home before it’s too late.”

Mirerien looked off, lost in thought. Sensing
her change, the guards relaxed their hold on Kern, looking at each
other uncertainly. “Your Majesty?”

The guards questioning tone snapped her back
to the present. “Release him. You may go,” she dismissed them.
Waiting for the guards to leave, Mirerien poured a couple of
drinks, offering one to Kern. He accepted, eyeing the ruby liquid
somewhat dubiously. He didn’t recognize the name on the bottle, but
even he could tell it was expensive, likely as much as he made in a
year. Taking a slow drink, he could appreciate its quality, but he
knew he wouldn’t get used to it any time soon. He was more of a one
copper piece ale drinker. It was a little unsettling to realize how
his entire personality, who he was, what he thought, how he looked
at the world could have been so very different if he had been
raised here in the palace of Aleria instead of a small run down
apartment in Suriax. He could have been a completely different
person. Maybe his mother knew what she was doing after all.

“Where is Frex, now?” she asked at last.

“Suriax. That’s where we’ve been living.”

Her face screwed up in disdain at the mention
of Suriax. He felt the absurd urge to defend his home, but this
wasn’t the time. He had other things to attend to first. “I’m loath
to move him. Suriax has been his home for over two centuries, but
someone found out about me, and I’m worried it may not be safe
there any longer. I came here to see if he would be welcome were he
to come here.”

“Of course he would. He is family.”

“I don’t mean to insult you,” he added
quickly in response to her tone. “To be fair, I don’t know any of
you. I didn’t even know we were related until a couple of days ago.
Frex never told me any of this. As far as I’m concerned, he is my
only family, and I won’t do anything to hurt him or bring him any
pain. If I’m about to ask him to leave his home, I’m going to make
damn sure he’s going to an even better one, with people who will
care for him and treat him right. If you can promise me that place
is here, I will take you at your word. If not, let me know now, and
I will make my plans to keep him safe there.”

Her face softened, whatever doubts she still
had of his identity laid to rest by his heartfelt defense of Frex.
“I fear I never cared for him as deeply as you apparently do. I
could claim youthful ignorance, but that would only be an excuse. I
have dedicated my entire life to the law, and I do not regret that,
but I fear it has left me rather cold to others.”

“Sister, are you alright?” The door opened,
two men in their night tunics rushing in. They stopped short at
seeing Kern. “So this is your visitor?” one of them said. They eyed
Kern suspiciously. Their hands held sheathed swords, the securing
leather straps hanging loose, evidence of the speed with which they
made their way to her chamber.

“You can put those away,” Mirerien said,
indicating the swords. “As you can see, I’m in no danger. Now, say
‘hello’ to Kern, our brother.”

* * *

“So what are we going to do about our dear
brother?” Eirae leaned against the door jam with his arms crossed
in front of him.

“What do you mean?” Mirerien poured three
glasses of tea and handed them out.

“You had to have noticed his jacket.”

“Mirerien never pays attention to the goings
on in Suriax,” Pielere replied. “It was the jacket of the Flame
Guard,” he informed her.

“The Flame Guard?” her eyes widened in
distress.

“Hence the need to figure out what we are
going to do about him.” Eirae stepped away from the door. “Can we
trust him?”

“He is our brother,” Pielere set his glass
down.

“And Veritan was our father. Maerishka is our
half sister,” he rebutted. “Before we go trusting him, we need to
know he hasn’t been corrupted beyond redemption, as they were.

“How do you propose we do that? I can only
say if he tells the truth. I can’t predict the future.” She
gathered the glasses and returned them to their tray.

Eirae’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I need to
question him,” he answered. The other two shared a look. He wasn’t
known for his kindness in gathering information, but he was good at
drawing out the darkness in a man’s heart. If someone was guilty of
a crime, a few minutes alone with Eirae were usually enough to
bring out a confession. He knew how to get the job done. “If he’s
with the guard, he will have killed. We need to ascertain his
feelings about that. If he is corrupted on that issue, all others
are moot.”

“He did come all this way for our uncle. That
is not something our father would have done.” Pielere gave a
hopeful look.

“And what of Uncle Frex?” asked Mirerien. “He
has lived in Suriax with Kern all this time.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about Frex.”
Eirae patted his sister on the shoulder. “He had no love for our
father or Venerith. He was a close friend of grandfather’s after
all.”

“Father, Father!” Two small boys ran in,
jumping on Pielere’s lap.

“Hey, what are you two doing up?” He tousled
their hair.

“We heard there is a new guest in the
palace,” the older boy answered. “Is it true?”

The three Alerian lords looked at each other.
Eirae shrugged. “There’s no keeping secrets in a palace.” Squatting
down in front of the children, he looked at them warmly. “We do
have a guest.”

“Can we meet him?” the younger boy asked.

“Probably, but not tonight.”

“Awww,” they complained.

“You heard your uncle.” Pielere slid them to
their feet and stood. “It’s time to go back to sleep. Come on, I’ll
go with you.”

“I think we could all use some sleep,”
Mirerien agreed. They had many things to discuss, but for once, it
could wait until the morning.

* * *

Thomas could not wait for morning. After
hours of avoiding guards, he was exhausted. They made it back to
the house, but now he could not sleep. He still needed to talk to
Kern, finalize plans for tomorrow and keep watch in case the guards
came back. He twisted the ring around his finger and waited for
Kern to reply. A few minutes later, he heard Kern’s voice whisper
softly in his head. “What is the plan?” he asked back.

“I made contact,” Kern answered. “There will
be someone waiting for you once you cross the gate, but they can’t
send him over into Suriax without alerting the queen to your
presence and causing some potential political complications. Of
course, if things change and you are in eminent danger, let me know
and they will send their man across the border.”

“Understood.”

“I should probably explain what is going
on.”

“No need. You uncle already filled us
in.”

There was an audible sigh on Kern’s end. “I
never meant for either of you to get caught up in all this.”

“It’s alright. I didn’t really want to stay
in Suriax forever, anyway.”

“I’m so sorry. I never thought you both would
have to leave Suriax, too. I just wanted to get my uncle to
safety.

“Things happen for a reason.” Thomas heard a
board creak by the kitchen. “Got to go.” He twisted the ring to end
the conversation and went to check out the sound. He found Marcy
standing on the back porch, staring at the night sky. She wore a
long cotton gown. Her hair was down for the first time since they
met. Long golden locks fell down her back, well past her waist. As
he watched, she pulled a brush through her hair. He turned to
leave.

“I missed the sunset,” she said without
turning. “I thought I’d make it out here in time to see the sun set
over Suriax one last time, but I failed to compensate for the trees
around here. My apartment and the tavern have a more open view of
the skyline.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She turned to face him, her
hair falling gracefully around her. “I don’t feel the same fondness
for Suriax that you showed when you described your home. What I
feel is more akin to nostalgia. Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll miss
it all that much. I just wonder how well I would actually fit in
anywhere else. I may not care all that much for Suriax, but it is a
large part of who I am. Living here has shaped my opinions and
personality. I’ve tried to put myself in your position, to see
killing as you do, but I’m a recorder. For over a hundred years,
death has been little more to me than a few facts on a scroll;
name, age and why did you kill him? I had forgotten that isn’t how
it is viewed everywhere else. How am I supposed to be a part of
that outside world that would shun and mistrust me should they
learn of my origins?” She turned around, her hair whipping around
in her haste. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t have the answer to my
questions. I’ll be inside in a bit. I’d like to have some time
alone to think first. Goodnight.”

Feeling a bit helpless, Thomas mumbled a
“Goodnight,” and went inside.

* * *

The streets were overflowing with people,
performers and vendors. Confetti filled the air. Acrobats jumped
and swung from trees. There were fire eaters, very popular in
Suriax, given that Venerith was a god of law and fire. It was said
his fire burned through the sentimentality of laws that became
distracted with notions of right and wrong. His laws were pure,
true laws. Those who did not follow his teachings called this
school of thought perverse, but it was the basis for all Suriaxian
society, and they believed in him completely.

The crowds were particularly thick near the
stadium. Everyone was excited about the opening of the Tournament
of Fire. Younger, rookie competitors bragged about previous
victories. Veteran contestants, especially previous finalists, were
surrounded by fans. People screamed just to be heard. In the
distance, a band played, adding to the cacophony of sounds. You
couldn’t actually make out what they were playing until they played
a trio of notes everyone from Suriax recognized. As one the crowd
began singing the Suriaxian anthem, “The Blue Flame of Purity.”
Blue fire was nearly the hottest fire there was. It was also the
color of Venerith’s flame, for only the hottest fire could burn to
the truth. They sang of being reborn in the blue flame, set free
from the morality of others’ laws. They thanked Venerith for their
blessings and prayed for Suriax to remain strong and true. When the
song ended there was a reverent moment of silence, deafening after
the loudness that preceded it. Someone cheered and the crowd
followed.

Horns blared from the top of the stadium
tree, announcing the start of the tournament. Contestants buzzed
with excitement, leading their respective entourages inside.
Banners flew through the air. The inside of the stadium tree was
even more heavily decorated than the rest of the festival.
Performers danced and did acrobatic flips along rafter like tree
branches running through the main stadium room. The walls swirled
around in an impossible design, curving to allow seating, both
common and special reserved balconies. The sky was visible through
a canopy of limbs and leaves, moonlight casting a magical glow on
the room and everyone in it. The competitors took to the floor,
beginning their warm ups and demonstrations of their skill, while
the audience filed in and took their seats. Roaming food vendors
sold Vaxtamil ale and various snacks. The horns blared again,
signaling the start of the exhibition fights. The previous
tournament’s winner and runner up took to the stage. The audience
cheered. Ten years earlier, Zanden, A rookie contestant in his
first tournament, blew everyone away by making it to the final
round. In the end, he was defeated by the previous champion, Sardon
Barief. Their match went on for three days with only brief breaks
for food to carry them through. Their rematch was one of the most
highly anticipated of the tournament. Even though this was
technically just an exhibition fight, everyone knew it was so much
more than that. As a three time champion, Sardon could not
participate in the full tournament this year. After three wins,
contestants were forced to retire from competing to allow other
competitors to rise to the top. In rare cases a former retired
champ was asked to return for a special match up, but that was only
ever against another three time champion. This was Zanden’s last
shot for the foreseeable future to fight Sardon and prove who was
superior. Both men had much to lose and gain through victory.