The Second God (12 page)

There was no fear in him, this time. He was so sure of himself and his magic, so much in control. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he set about it with determination. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke, rough or gentle – it was all through Ly’s will. He was in charge, and I surrendered to the majesty of his passion, and let magic sweep me away. Sex without the impetus of magic has its own delights, but with it, the experience is like flying with the gods. So much energy! So much desire! Every tiny touch a flame that burns without consuming. That night was glorious, every single moment of it, and I never wanted it to stop.

Long after dawn, we finally wound down enough to lie still and rest, even if we didn’t sleep.

When I eventually emerged from the bedroom, not in the least exhausted, Arran was sitting glumly at the table drinking hot brew. He brightened when he saw me.

“Ah, sweetheart! Do you want something? A drink? Your herbs? Shall I brew them for you?”

“Thank you, that would be good. Did you sleep well?”

“Oh yes,” he said, but the guilty expression on his face told its own story.

When he had made my herbal drink, I took his hand and led him to the window seat. He followed, unresisting. Pushing him down, I climbed onto his lap.

“There! That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes.” But his tone was bleak.

“What is it? Are you still upset that I was with Ly?”

A long pause. “May I speak honestly?”

“I hope you’ll always do that.”

He sighed. “Last night made me realise that… you do not need me at all. You have Ly, and he is your husband – you will
always
have Ly. Whereas I… I am just a drusse, with a contract that has to be renewed every two years. And he… he makes you happy, properly happy, I understand that now, which I cannot do. You are a matched pair – he provides the magic you need, and I have no magic at all. He is an essential political key to keeping the peace, and all I do is make stupid mistakes. I serve no purpose, Drina, and sooner or later you will come to see that, and then you will not want me any more.”

I let him have his say without interruption, not sure whether this was just the distress of the moment, and he would recover his usual sunny good humour later, or whether it came from some deeper-rooted discontent. When he wound down, I stroked his cheek.

“Doesn’t it count for anything that I love you?”

“Of course, but every year, every moon you are closer to him, and sooner or later—”

“Shh. None of us can say what the future holds. All I know is that I need you
now
, and you will always have a place by my side, I promise you that.”

He held me close, and for a long time we sat, unmoving. My heart ached for him, but how could I reassure him? I knew my own mind, and I loved Arran with every bone in my body, but perhaps he would always look at Ly and wonder. And I loved Ly, too, although in a different way. If anyone had asked me a few years ago if it was possible to love two men, I’d have laughed and said no, of course not. But it was. I loved them both, and I didn’t want to lose either of them. Yet here was Arran, doubting and fearful, while Ly was growing stronger and more independent every sun. I didn’t want to think where that could end.

After a while, Ly emerged from the bedroom. “I have remade the bed for you,” he said. “I am going down to the bathing room for a while – an hour, at least. I shall be back for morning board.”

“Thank you,” Arran said with a sudden grin, giving me a squeeze. “See you later.”

I felt a prickle of annoyance at Ly’s high-handedness – last night he’d whisked me away from Arran, now he was giving his permission for us to be together. As if that was for him to decide.

Something else struck me. “Ly! Your magic – it’s hardly reduced at all.”

“I know. You cannot take it from me now – not unless I allow it. Finally I have full control of my powers. I am truly
byan shar
.”

His smile chilled my heart.

We crawled back to Kingswell the slow, laborious way. Arran and I rode, accompanied by an honour escort from the fortress, and all the servants, scribes and waiting women who’d been sent to Lakeside to assist Ly and me. I’d forgotten just how tedious such a procession could be. There was always a horse with a shoe cast or a saddle misaligned or some other trivial problem that necessitated a stop to deal with it. We stayed at inns overnight, throwing the innkeepers and their helpers into a frenzy of obsequious preparations. I dared not think how many fine beasts were roasted for us instead of being kept for the next festival. But at least I had Arran to curl up beside in bed.

Ly circled overhead on Diamond, with his own little honour escort of Sunshine and a score of other birds. Some of them were bonded, and I wondered how many Clanfolk were sitting beside the lake resignedly waiting for their mounts to return so that they could fly home. When we stopped at noon for food and a rest, Ly would spiral down to join us, but the rest of the time he simply followed us at a distance, and made camp somewhere overnight.

I’d sent word ahead to Yannassia through the writing mirrors in the Lakeside scribery, which were magically connected to their counterparts at Kingswell. We had not been in the Keep an hour when word came that she would see us immediately in her private rooms. She had dismissed all her scribes and mages and waiting women and servants, and only Torthran attended her, apart from the ever-present bodyguards.

“Drina, Ly – come in. Oh, and Arran too. Yes, yes, do come in. Have some of this minty stuff – it’s rather a good summer drink, I think, quite refreshing. Torthran? Would you be so good as to fetch more glasses?”

We settled around a small table in the curve of a window, sipping the strange drink, while Ly told the whole tale again from the beginning. Yannassia knew it already, but she listened patiently, only occasionally asking for clarification.

“And this has never happened before?” she asked when Ly came to the end.

“Never. No one knows quite what it means for the Clans.”

“I am more concerned with what it means for Bennamore,” Yannassia said. “Is this boy destined to be a war leader, as you were once intended to be? Should we fear for our safety?”

Ly frowned. “That is believed to be the purpose of a male
byan shar.
However, it takes many years to achieve that position – as I discovered when I tried. It requires a great deal of power to control an army of war-beasts. My magic was not strong enough then.”

“But now it is?” Yannassia said, getting the point.

“Yes, I imagine so. But I have no desire to make war on Bennamore or anywhere else.”

“What happens next to this new
byan shar
?” I said. “Will he go through the regeneration phase?”

Ly nodded. “If his mother follows the tradition, she will take him to the castle beside the great lake, and all the Clans will send women to him to be made pregnant.” His expression was bleak. I remembered all too well the effects of Ly’s own regeneration efforts – the children able to bond with their beasts even from birth, yet not able to control them. The injuries were terrible. It was unbearable to think of another generation suffering in that way.

“So if we leave him alone, this boy, he will breed an army of beast riders,” Yannassia said. “Then, in a few years, we will have another war on our hands. No, I cannot allow it. We shall have to kill this boy.”

“I should prefer not to, if it can be avoided,” Ly said quietly. “First I should like to talk to him, to see if we can come to some accommodation, to work together for the good of the Clans. I should like your permission to go in search of him.”

“I do not think you need my permission,” Yannassia said, with a lift of one eyebrow.

Ly gave a wry smile. “Perhaps not, but I should like it, nevertheless. And Drina’s, of course. I shall need to take her with me, because she can detect Sho-heest’s magic, which will make it much easier to find him.”

“Very well.”

“I should also like to take Arran with us. His skill with a sword may be useful where we are going.”

Arran’s head lifted sharply, his face filled with sudden hope. “But how—?” he began.

Yannassia raised a hand to interrupt him. “I thought outsiders could not travel in your lands?” she said.

“It is forbidden, yes. Arran would be killed if he simply walked in there. Drina, too, is not welcome. But there is a way it can be done. Now that I have reached the age of strength, I am permitted to bond in blood with those who can help me, people who will share my life and my responsibilities. Drina is my wife, and Arran is my friend and brother of the heart, so it is appropriate for us to exchange blood. But it is not something to be undertaken lightly. There is a risk, and if successful, it will bind us together for life.”

“Will I be able to fly an eagle?” Arran said, his face glowing.

“Indeed you will, as you have long wanted,” Ly said with an affectionate smile.

“Then let us do it!” Arran said happily. “That way we will always be brothers of the heart.”

~~~~~

I had a thousand questions about Ly’s idea, but there was no time to discuss them. For several hours we sat in meetings as Ly repeated the same story of the new
byan shar
– first to Yannassia’s inner circle of advisors, then to a wider group and finally to some of the nobles. It was tedious, but Ly showed no impatience, answering every question quietly. I had little to do, and my attention wandered. Once or twice I closed my eyes and felt in my mind the power of Ly’s magic, blazing undimmed, and wondered what it portended.

There was only one moment where I was dragged forcibly back to the discussion. One of the nobles was speculating at exhaustive length on the possible implications, when one particular remark caught my ear.

“—and then we shall need to deal with this replacement
byan shar
, now that he is leader of—”

“No,” Ly said coldly. “
I
am
byan shar
.
I
am leader of all the Blood Clans. You deal with
me
. Nothing that has happened affects that situation.”

“But surely…?” The noble gazed at him thoughtfully, considering his words. “I would
assume
,” he said carefully, “that since you are both equally… erm,
chosen
by your gods, that you have equal status?”

“Not so. For Sho-heest is merely a boy, with a boy’s weak power, as I was at his age. It will be ten or fifteen years before he achieves his full power and becomes strong enough to be considered a leader. You deal with me, Honoured Lord, and
I
will deal with the boy.”

Yannassia raised an eyebrow. Leaning close to my ear, she whispered, “Your timid little husband has some backbone after all. Excellent.” Her eyes sparkled with glee.

Nothing was said to the nobles of Ly’s plan to talk to Sho-heest, or how he hoped to accomplish that. We were supposed to attend a formal dinner that evening, but we made our excuses and returned to our apartment. Arran was quivering with excitement, showering Ly with questions as soon as we were through the door into our private quarters.

“Wait a moment!” Ly said, laughing, hands raised in defence against the onslaught. “Let me catch my breath first. And perhaps I could check on the children?”

“Yes, and let’s organise some food,” I said. “I’m starving, and a glass of wine wouldn’t be unwelcome, either.”

“The dining room, then?” Arran said.

“Would you mind if we were to sit on one of the balconies?” Ly said. “After so many sun-crossings in the open, I am finding these stone walls a little oppressive.”

While I sent instructions to the kitchen, Ly went off to the nursery and Arran arranged chairs and a table on the sitting room balcony, and fetched wine and glasses. The balcony was in shade now, but still warm from the afternoon sun. Small bushes in pots rustled their leaves in the slight breeze. It would have been a pleasant place to relax, if I weren’t so weighed down with concern. Five years I’d been married to Ly, and thought I knew him well, yet he could still shock me with some piece of his people’s culture that I’d never suspected.

The servants brought bread and soup and some hot pastries almost at once, and we ate and drank and said nothing until Ly came back.

“All is well with them,” he said. “They would like to see you both.”

“Later,” I said. “We need to talk about this blood-bonding, Ly. You have some explaining to do.”

“Yes, tell us how it will work,” Arran said eagerly.

“No, not that,” I said sharply. “I need an explanation of why you never mentioned this possibility before. You always said that you were forbidden from sharing your blood with me – or anyone.”

“And that was the truth. I have never lied to you, Princess.”

“But you haven’t told me the
full
truth. You
never
tell me the full truth. I am so tired of it. How can I make proper decisions when you keep secrets from me?”

His face was full of misery. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. “May I explain?”

“You can try. I’m not sure I’ll believe you.”

He heaved a sigh, and with his head bowed, he looked just like the diffident, old Ly. The new, brasher version was gone. “I did not know…” he began. “I was not sure what would happen. Tradition says that the
byan shar
will reach his full powers at around the age of thirty. Maybe a little less. Then, everything changes. But you were taking my magic away. I could not be sure that I would
ever
reach the age of strength. I did not wish to talk about possibilities that might never happen. I wished not to raise your hopes. Or Arran’s hopes. I have long had the idea in mind that the three of us would bond, but I could not know what would happen… I am sorry.”

The servants came just then with platters of meat and vegetables. We sat in silence while they moved around the table, clearing, tidying, relaying, replenishing. It was a fortunate intervention, for it gave me the opportunity to swallow my anger and admit, albeit reluctantly, that Ly had a point. I was perhaps the only person who had ever taken a
byan shar
into captivity – the only person who
could
do so, with my unique heritage – and no one could have predicted the consequences of that.

So when the servants left us alone again, I said slowly, “I think I would have preferred to be told everything, but I understand why you chose to keep some aspects secret. But will you tell me now? For I need to know – Arran and I
both
need to know – the whole story, so that we can decide what to do. No—” I saw Arran’s face fall, and stretched across the table to take his hand. “We mustn’t make an instant decision on this. It could change all our lives irrevocably.”

“That is very true,” Ly said. “The result is always uncertain. For most of my people, blood-bonding is a simple matter of exchanging blood between husband and wife, or occasionally between good friends – brothers of the heart, or sisters, perhaps. Each acquires the connections of the other, and they become much closer, like one person. It is a good thing, and it rarely goes wrong. But for a
byan shar
, the magic is so strong that… the outcome cannot be predicted. Some strange things have happened. And for the unblooded, it is especially risky.”

“Would we have your powers – your magic?” Arran said. “Would we become like
byan shar
?”

“You would gain some powers, yes,” Ly said. “You would not be
byan shar
, but you would be able to do some of the things I can do – to connect to minds directly, and to bond with any beast, for instance. You could look through the eyes of any of my people who have been bonded. That is how our wars have been conducted in the past. The
byan shar
is supposed to blood-bond with a chosen few from his lion guard at the summer Blood Ceremony on the sacred island. Afterwards, they separate, to lead their own cohort. Then they can be sent wherever they are needed to direct the beasts in battle.”

“So you can split your army into smaller units and open several fronts at once?” Arran said in admiration. “No wonder your people are unbeatable.”

“That, and the giant lions,” I said with a shrug. “That helps, too.”

Ly smiled. “So it does. But yes, each one can lead a part of the army. The
byan shar
directs the lion guard, and they direct their people. And for the blood-bonded, the distance is of no consequence. Do you remember the… the troubles of five years ago? I had difficulty maintaining control of the riders when I was so far away. That is not a problem for the blood-bonded.”

“But there is a risk?” I said.

Ly nodded. “The risk is great. Firstly, you are partly blood-bonded already, which is most unusual.”

“Unique, I should think,” I said.

“Ah, Drina, yes. You are unique in many ways. For you the results cannot be foreseen. And Arran is unblooded, so again, no one can predict the outcome. It may succeed, or it may partly succeed, or it may appear to succeed and then turn bad. Or it may fail.”