The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (10 page)

“AH! Shadows and light Tomaz!”

The big man pulled back and smiled evilly at him. A few of the Kindred nearby looked at him askance before focusing once more on the parade – Elder Dawn had just come through the gates, the Elder Raven preferred to call the Dragon Lady since she was so draconian in conduct. Even her robes were a statement in plainness – they were simple brown homespun, and she looked down her nose at the men and women lining the streets as if looking for wickedness that she could scourge.

“Shadows and light!” Raven cursed, at Tomaz. “You scared the
hell
out of me!”

“Do you Imperials only really believe in one hell?” The big man asked, looking back at the procession. “Seems like a waste of time to me. If you’re going to believe in supernatural, eternal suffering, why not do it right and have seven layers like we do? Nice to make sure all your sinners are roasting at just the right temperature.”

Despite himself, Raven couldn’t help but give a small, conciliatory smile. The big man did have a good point. Then again, he usually had good points. Damned irritating at times.

“You know,” Raven said suddenly looking critically at the clock tower, “I think that thing actually
has
stopped – it can’t be that late in the day yet.”

“That … may be my fault,” Tomaz said sheepishly. Raven looked at him curiously and he explained: “Part of the structure was damaged in the siege and I went to go help rebuild it. When I got inside I grabbed one of the gears to turn it back into place and the whole thing just … stopped. Ground to a halt. Hasn’t worked since and no one knows why.”

“Ah … now I see,” said Raven, eying the big man critically. “It’s the Talisman. I was just thinking about how they interfere with Bloodmagic … now that you’re the Prince of Oxen, it’s –”

“Whoa there,” Tomaz said, brow suddenly furrowed, looking at Raven warily and speaking softly. The crowd was so loud though he needn’t have bothered – no one could hear them. “Don’t go ‘princing’ me now. If you won’t let people call you the Prince of Ravens anymore, why do I have to be the Prince of Oxen?”

“I renounced my claim to the throne before the Council of Elders,” Raven reminded him for what felt like the hundredth time. “Besides, I have no principality to rule over. You technically do.”

“Don’t get started on that again,” Tomaz said with a snort. Raven fell silent, knowing not to start an old battle. He’d just lose again.

“Well at least Autmaran and Scipio are stepping into your place,” he said. He should be relieved – he knew that Tomaz wasn’t really the kind of man who’d be able to lead anyone anyway. If Raven was still a Prince he would have certainly asked the man to be one of his advisers … but he had to admit, even if the big man wore the Ox Talisman, it was probably better for everyone involved that he had no interest in taking control of the city. Raven had tried to convince him of it the first few weeks after the battle at the Stand, knowing that it was customary, but Tomaz would have none of it.

“What were you doing thinking about that anyway?” Tomaz rumbled.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I’ve been on edge for weeks now, even before the attack in the mountains. I can’t help but feel this was too easy somehow.”

“Enough of that,” rumbled Tomaz softly but insistently. “We are celebrating the win of a great battle today. You have to celebrate the good while you can, you can’t dwell on the bad or it will eat you alive from the inside. You helped the Kindred do what we haven’t been able to do in a thousand years –
fight back
. This is as much your victory as anyone else’s.”

Raven nodded, mollified, but said nothing. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was
wrong.

Suddenly there was a noise behind them – it sounded like voices raised in argument. Tomaz and Raven turned and looked over the edge of the scaffold, and saw that a small back alley ran behind it to another street parallel to them. A group of men were gathered there, away from the parade.

“Is that … Autmaran?” Raven asked, surprised.

The Major’s black, bald head was just visible – he was exchanging heated words with a tall, thin man, with a block-like chin and high forehead, dressed in a well-cut vest and black slacks.

Tomaz and Raven exchanged a look, and then both scrambled over the back of the scaffold and lowered themselves to the ground, making their way down the alley to the other street. As they approached, Raven realized the man Autmaran was arguing with was Ramael’s ex-Governor; it was the highest post one of the Commons could rise to, and he was the one who ruled them when Ramael was gone, reporting only to the upper members of the Blood.

And now that none of them are left, he’s the most important man in the city.

He and Autmaran stood nose to nose, staring each other down, neither willing to give an inch as they literally shouted in each other’s faces, backed by sizable groups of Kindred and Imperial soldiers. Neither of them was at all audible over the other, and Raven was surprised they hadn’t drawn weapons and gone at each other.

“PEACE!” Roared Tomaz. The big man burst from the alley and pulled the two men apart with hands that engulfed their shoulders.

They continued to stare daggers at each other from the length of Tomaz’s arms. And then, without a word, the tall, smart looking man turned and stalked off, his long, well-cut vest and coat swirling dramatically around him. He was making for the castle – no doubt to complete the ceremony. It would be his duty as Governor to give official control of the city to the Elders and Commander Scipio.

“What was that about?” Raven asked, looking Autmaran up and down, trying to size the man up. He had been a fine captain in the ambush at the Pass of Cartuom, and had earned Raven’s respect in the fighting that had occurred since. But, as his brother Geofred had told him repeatedly, being a good commander was not the same as being a good ruler. Not that the Eagle could really have much to say in that regard – he had the least populated and most self-governed Principality in the whole Empire.
 
But this man was going to be second in command to Commander Scipio in control of the city until the Kindred could return next spring – that was no small thing.

“I’ll make him see sense,” said Autmaran, his jaw set. “His superstitious dogma has no place here.”

“Superstitious dogma?”

“Yes,” Autmaran said, “he’s making a fit about us occupying Ramael’s old rooms and using the Prince’s Yard to house the Kindred Scouts and their horses. He sees the Children as sacred, and considers us infidels.”

“Well if he worships the Children maybe I can make him see sense,” Raven said dryly.

“I doubt it,” Autmaran said, though he smiled ruefully and Raven knew he’d at least calmed down.

“Just be careful,” Raven said. “Superstitions and old belief … they die hard. Attacking the situation head-on will only make it worse, they’ll dig in, become stubborn. It’s what I did.”

There was a long pause, and then Autmaran nodded. The newly promoted Major was a practical man, and during the last few months the two of them had become as much friends as any man and a superior officer could be.

“How would you go about it?”

Raven took a deep breath, and then sighed out his answer, shooting a glance at Tomaz who was keeping his distance but watching them closely.

“Show them kindness,” he said, thinking back to the days he’d journeyed south with Tomaz and Leah, and the ways they’d started to change his mind about the Kindred. “And show them your willingness to give your life for theirs. You can’t make them stop believing in the power of the Empress, she
has
all of the powers everyone has ever said she has. I know, I’ve seen them.”

Raven trailed off, his mind lost in remembrances of his childhood – lost in the constant battle that had been his life at court, unable to tell when his Mother would strike him in anger and when she would extend a loving hand in praise. It was the same thing Ramael had felt, the conflicting hope and despair, the need to prove himself. It was what his Mother brought to all the Children, and to all the Empire.

“What made you turn in the end?” Autmaran asked, quietly.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” he said wryly.

“Fair,” said the major. “But now that I’ve gotten to know you, I think you would have turned eventually anyway.”

Raven, startled, looked closely at Autmaran.

“Do you really believe that?” He asked.

Autmaran gave him a long look, eyes unblinking.

“I see in you the future of the Empire,” said Autmaran, deadly serious. “You’re a good man, that I know. And I think that in the end … yes. You would have chosen the Kindred.”

“I’m not even sure if I’ve completely chosen them now,” Raven said, startled so much by the other man’s reaction that he didn’t hesitate to tell him the truth.

“I think you will,” Autmaran said, his voice colored with a grave certainty that reminded Raven forcefully of Rikard. The tone of his voice, the power in his eyes that almost dared reality to go against his wishes.

There was a loud cheer behind them, and they turned to look back down the alley. The Kindred and the Roarkians were all getting to their feet – the parade had passed them, and they were moving in behind it as they all headed toward the castle.

“I have to go,” Autmaran said quickly, “I will see you soon.”

Raven nodded and watched him go.

“Are you coming?” Tomaz asked, as he went to follow the Major.

“No,” Raven said simply. “Go ahead, I’ll see you later tonight.”

Tomaz nodded, watching him with unspoken questions, and then turned to follow Autmaran and the rest of the Kindred soldiers. Raven watched them go until they disappeared around a bend in the street, then turned and made his way back to the camp.

He didn’t want to see the Kindred’s triumph, didn’t want to see them hopeful for perhaps the first time in their nation’s existence. Not when he knew, beyond any other certainly, that such hope could never last.

The next day the Kindred left for Vale. As Warryn had commanded, a large force stayed behind, stationed in Roarke, to hold the city and guard it while the Roarke Pass was closed with snow over the long winter. The force was under the leadership of Commander Scipio and Major Autmaran, as well as an Ashandel-Eshendai pair of Rogues called Polim and Palum, two older silver-haired twins who served under Autmaran. However, both they and Autmaran were returning first to Vale with the Kindred army to organize a final shipment of supplies before the Pass closed. Scipio, who had already begun to organize the city, was to stay behind.

It was Leah who told him all of this – Raven had caught up with her that morning and apologized just as the army began to move out. The words had come out awkward and halting, but she’d taken it for what it was. He counted himself lucky – the Exile girl was more skilled at holding grudges than most men were holding a sword.

As they took their place in the long line of departing Kindred already curling into the lowland hills below the Pass, she told him about the ceremony at the castle and he told her about what Autmaran had said. They were getting along remarkably well all told, and Raven was feeling rather good about it, when lieutenant general Henri Perci rode up beside them.

He rode a beautiful white stallion, and sat the saddle as if he’d been born there. The armor that went with his office suited him perfectly: it was burnished silver steel outlined in gold scroll work – as a protégé of Warryn, he wore the color of the Elder of State – and matched his beard and long, golden hair that curled about his head and fell to the nape of his neck.

“Good afternoon Leah,” he said, flashing a brilliant white smile at her. He turned to look at Raven as well, and though his nostrils flared and his eyes flashed, he nodded his head in polite acknowledgement.

“Hello Perci,” Leah said stiffly, and Raven felt a sick sort of satisfaction as the smile on Perci’s face faltered at her brusque tone. The man was too charming by half, and Raven felt himself naturally inclined to distrust him, even before knowing how the man felt about him. Anyone that pretty must be evil somehow.

“I trust I’m not interrupting anything my lady,” Perci said, trying to cover his momentary discomfort with chivalric courtesy.

“As a matter of fact,” Leah started, but was cut off by a loud, ominous cracking sound from farther up the road. They all turned to look at the source of the noise.

A huge cart, laden with tent poles and camp supplies, had cracked its tongue, the long wooden spoke that kept it attached to the team of horses pulling it. The weight shifted on the steep mountain road, and suddenly the wagoner lost control of the reins; the horses, thrown by the sound, reared up and started pulling the wrong way, putting extra tension on the remaining restraints.

A series of leather straps snapped, the wood broke the rest of the way through, and the whole cart, loaded to the brim, began to roll slowly, inexorably, backwards, and Raven knew that if it was allowed to pick up speed it would be nearly unstoppable.

Without thinking, he kicked his horse Jack in the side and the beast leapt forward toward the cart. He jumped off at the last second and threw himself behind the cart, planting his boots in the ground and straightening his legs, trying to stave off as much of the cart’s momentum as possible. There were people on the trail below – if it rolled past them it could kill or injure dozens.

But he was only one man, and the cart continued to roll, his boots sliding and scraping on the dirt of the trail, unable to find traction.

“HELP ME!” He roared to no one in particular.

And then Leah was there, right beside him, pushing as well, yelling at the wagoner to get a block to shove behind the wheel, but still they weren’t strong enough to stop it.

Raven’s wound burst into pain from the strain and, unable to stand, he collapsed sideways, nearly blacking out.

A tall, strong form shot passed him and took his place, planting powerful feet and legs and lifting, forcing the cart back, stopping it in its tracks. Raven looked up and saw Henri Perci, side by side with Leah, holding the huge cart in place as the wagoner and a number of other Kindred swarmed around it, shoving blocks in place to stop the wheels turning.

The Kindred gave out a cheer, applauding the young officer.

Henri Perci pulled back, breathing heavy, and waved at the surrounding group, smiling broadly. He turned to Raven and the smile turned into a mocking smirk. Leah rose beside him and he went to her, helping her to her feet. He smiled at her too and she, after a moment of hesitation, nodded back in acknowledgement.

Henri Perci strode back to his white stallion, mounted, and kicked it past the cart on the far side of the trail, earning cheers from the gathered Kindred. Leah watched him go with an unreadable expression, and then crossed to Raven.

“Shadows and light!” cursed Raven, standing up and brushing himself off. His shoulder and side ached, but not too badly. Likely he’d just strained something.

“Don’t worry princeling, he’s not worth it.”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not a Prince anymore,” he responded doggedly. The last thing he needed was for people to hear her say that. He felt embarrassed as it was – here he was trying to play the hero, and in the end he’d only gotten in the way.

“Yeah well you may not be a Prince anymore, but you still act like one,” she said. “And you’re still a pain in my – ”

“Leah!” Called the voice of Davydd further up the column.

She turned sharply around, and as she did her long black hair, pulled back in a long, thick braid today, swung around and smacked him right across the face.

“Ah! Shadows and light! ”

“Oh! Shadows and fire, I didn’t mean to –”

“I know, I know, don’t worry about it – ”

“Leah!” Davydd called again.

“Go, go,” Raven said, motioning her forward, trying not to nurse his wounded pride too obviously. Not only was he useless at stopping rolling carts, he yelled like a little girl when slapped in the face with a hair braid. He was certainly a far cry from the heroic princely figure he’d thought himself to be a few months ago.

Leah hesitated a moment longer, but then she was gone, mounting and spurring her horse ahead in a single fluid motion, leaving a thoroughly disgruntled Raven behind her. He mounted his own horse, Jack, and walked him carefully around the men fixing the wagon, falling back into the column behind a number of mounted Kindred, now even more thoroughly unexcited by the prospect of a winter spent among a people that had no more reason to like him than did Henri Perci.

“I would suggest you keep a cool head on your shoulders about that one,” said the thin, reedy tenor of Elder Crane.

Raven jerked around in his saddle and saw the Elder come riding up along next to him with nothing but his large chestnut gelding for company or escort.

“I … I don’t know how to address you,” Raven responded, thrown off by the appearance, playing for time. What was the man doing here?

“I have no title besides Elder,” Crane said simply. “But you can call me ‘Crane’ if you’d like, the choice is really up to you.”

He was now riding equal with Raven as they ascended the mountain on the first truly steep incline. The pass had widened and was large enough for several men to ride abreast, but everyone in the company seemed to have backed away from the Elder. Raven looked around and saw that they were now in a strange, protective bubble of open space where just a few minutes before he’d been in the middle of a crowd of soldiers.

“Very well then,” said Raven, examining the man though trying to appear as if he wasn’t. “I’d prefer to call you ‘Crane’ if it’s really my choice.”

“And why would you prefer that?” Crane asked him, peering at him from under an hoary eyebrow with a look of kind amusement. “Would it be perhaps that you have decided not to accept my offer?”

Raven quickly looked down and cleared his throat nervously.

Shadows and light I really have been away from the Fortress for a long time. If I’d ever shown my discomfort that obviously in the presence of Symanta she’d have been able to read me like a book.

“I know that you requested to speak with me,” Raven said, his voice once more level and emotionless. “But I –”

“Indeed, I did. I requested such almost two months ago. Quite a long time to keep such an
elderly
man waiting.”

Raven glanced at the old man –
no, not truly old,
he corrected,
he can’t be more than sixty-five –
and was again slightly taken aback by the Elder’s strange disregard for the rules of formality.

“I asked you to speak with me,” Crane continued, as if he hadn’t interrupted Raven and had been speaking all along, “because the Kindred have kept the peace in our lands by keeping the Empire out. I have given you a long time in which to consider your position – and I thought now a fitting time to bring up the subject once more, while you don’t have anywhere to hide, and there’s no short-tempered Elder against whom you can rail.”

“I apologize for my actions in regard to Elder Warryn,” Raven said smoothly, slipping into the conversation as Crane took a breath. “I did not mean to cause any undue trouble. I can only excuse myself by saying that I was in pain and was provoked.”

“You
let
yourself be provoked,” Cran said, eyeing him, again with that strangely disreputable smile. It looked completely out of place on the face of what Raven knew to be the most powerful of the Kindred in terms of both station and, likely, political clout.

“But Elder Keri told me the same, and in any case I am not here to talk about Elder Warryn,” Crane continued, reedy tenor growing a little softer. “I have the highest respect for him as he is my colleague and fellow Elder, but if someone were to describe him as a pompous wind-bag with all the arrogance of a stallion in heat, I could hardly claim such an assertion to be ill-founded.”

Raven, not quite believing he had heard what he’d just heard, caught a small twinkle at the corner of the Elder’s eye and suddenly felt a weight drop off his shoulders, just that easily. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been worried the confrontation would lead to reprisals – if ever an Imperial citizen, even one of the Most High, had spoken to one of the Children the way he’d spoken to Elder Warryn, that man or woman would have been executed in excruciating fashion, and with good reason. Who would believe the Children were gods, like the Empress, creatures above criticism and error, if there were people around to criticize their errors?

“In any case,” Crane continued, “I do not wish to talk about the, as some might say, well deserved scolding of Elder Warryn. What I want to talk about is the fact you haven’t given the Kindred your allegiance, and yet you are returning with us to our lands and, unless I am mistaken, intend to partake in our protection for the foreseeable future.”

Raven tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t. The Elder had him rather soundly cornered.

“I don’t know if I wish to give the Kindred my allegiance,” Raven said finally, not knowing how else to proceed but with the truth.

“Then what was it that made you stay in the first place?” Crane asked.

“I wish I knew,” Raven sighed, looking away.

“I think you do,” Crane said, watching him carefully. “I’m told you share a surprisingly strong bond with Leah Goldwyn, daughter of General Goldwyn, and the exiled BladeMaster, Tomaz Banier.”

Raven looked up in shock and felt a touch of anger as well. Tomaz guarded his secrets carefully, and if he did not choose to reveal his past as a BladeMaster, it seemed both careless and mean-spirited to bandy the word so openly.

But as he opened his mouth to speak angrily to Crane, the old man held up a hand to forestall him, and smiled with a simple, graceful air of apology.