Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (9 page)

THE MORNING after his dream visit from the ghost-child, Elu awoke refreshed and joyful. Ever since Rathburt had saved him from the terror of the vines, Elu had been in a good mood almost all the time. And why not? Nothing in life could be worse than what he already had endured. Not even death.

A henchman served him breakfast on a silver tray: parboiled eggs, a slice of spiced pork, white cheese, dried blackberries sprinkled with honey, and sweet white wine. The queen’s personal guard ate well. Elu thought back to the night before last when the surprise pronouncement had occurred.

The queen had woken him out of a sound sleep, entering his room well past midnight while wearing only fleecy white robes that were slit at the hips. She drew up a deep chair next to Elu’s bed and tucked her bare feet under her tight buttocks.

“Have you ever been alone with a queen?”

“Elu has been alone with Laylah.”

Rajinii snorted. “
The Torgon
would call her a queen, I’m sure. As for the rest of us?” She made a strange face. “So, being alone with a queen isn’t
new
to you. But how many times have you been alone with a beautiful woman?”

“Well . . . many times, to be honest. Before Elu was little, the women of his village came to him often . . . sometimes
too
often. And even after Elu became small, he slept with the whores in Kamupadana, and most of them were
very
pretty.”

“
Before
you were small?
After
you were small? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the queen said in an annoyed tone. “Regardless, you’re not getting my
point
!” She stood and towered over him, her nipples pressing against the thin fabric like the tips of spears. For a moment, the Svakaran feared she might strike him. But her face softened and she sat back down in the chair.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

She took several long breaths before continuing her peculiar interrogation. “How long have you known
The Torgon
?”

“Elu has known the
great one
only a short time. But Elu loves him.”

“The
great one
,” she chuckled. “An appropriate name. I have called him that myself, in the privacy of my own chambers.” Then she sighed. “A day? A week? A year?”

“Your highness?”

“How
long
have you known him?”

“Ohhhh. Hmmm. Since before winter?”

“Half a year . . . And in all that time, did he ever mention my name to you?”

Though he suspected it would upset her, he did not lie. “Not that Elu remembers, your highness. The
great one
speaks only of Laylah.”

“
Damn
her!” the queen shouted, leaping out of the chair so fast it caused Elu to cringe. “Why couldn’t Invictus have kept better tabs?”

“Elu likes Laylah. Elu
loves
her. She and the
great one
were made for each other.”

“So you say!” the queen snarled, pressing her face so near to his that their noses almost touched. “So . . . you . . . say.”

Then she walked over to a small window and looked out at the palace grounds. “Not long ago, they rode off together on one of my stallions and are somewhere out there . . .
now
. They have no respect for me. Or Jivita. They care only for themselves.”

“
Lord Torgon
cares for everyone. But when a man loves a woman,
truly
loves a woman, there can be no other.”

The queen swung slowly around. The Svakaran was surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears. “Why can’t it be . . . me?” she said, her voice suddenly so tender it tore at Elu’s heart. “I love him . . .
too
.”

Elu had been naked in the bed, but he wrapped the top cover around his body and shuffled over to where she stood. “There are many people in the world you could love and who could love you. You can be happy, if you allow yourself to be. Elu knows this well, your highness.”

Rajinii smiled, but then—to the Svakaran’s surprise—she started screaming for the guards. At least a dozen poured into the room, their armor hard as stone. Elu felt helpless, with just a bedcover for protection.

“What is it, your highness?” one of the guards said. “Has he threatened you?”

“I need witnesses for a royal pronouncement,” she shouted, her voice almost manic. “I offer the Svakaran warrior a position of high honor. Elu, will you accept?”

“Accept what?”

“I wish you to become a member of my personal guard.”

This amazed the guards, who were tall and proud.

Elu wasn’t sure what to do. Finally he bowed. “Elu is honored, your highness. He accepts.”

“Very good. I will require your services in the morning.” Then she fled the room.

Afterward, Elu had lain alone on his bed, too excited to sleep. “The queen’s personal guard . . .” he said over and over.

THREE DAYS AFTER the meeting of the Privy Council, Sir Elu alerted Torg that the queen wished to speak with him in the gardens behind the palace. Laylah was uncomfortable but accepted it as a necessity. Torg took both Obhasa and the Silver Sword, sliding the latter into its new jewel-studded scabbard. Then he strode out through the back of the palace. Several henchmen skittered alongside him.

The queen stood amid an expanse of wildflowers, holding the reins of a pair of spirited destriers in one hand and her white staff in the other. One of the war horses was a muscled stallion almost as magnificent as Izumo, and though his coat was white, his eyes were blue, matching the petals that engulfed his coronets. Next to the stallion was a white mare. Torg had seen no other horse as great, save Bhojja herself. The mare’s name was Arusha, and she loved only Rajinii.

“This stallion, among all others, is the only one Arusha will tolerate as a mate,” the queen said. “His name is Vājin, and hitherto he has never abided a rider. Can you tame him?”

“You know that I can,” Torg said, “though I will remove his reins and saddle and ride in Tugarian fashion.”

Even as he spoke, Torg could hear Rathburt shouting, “Showoff!” But Torg backed up his boast and soon rode Vājin as if the two had been paired for life.

“Race you to the first gate,” Rajinii shouted and spurred Arusha forward. Though Vājin ran with surprising speed for his girth, the stallion was no match for the mare. The queen beat Torg to the gate by several hundred paces.

“Arusha is indeed a great horse,” Torg said as he rode up beside Rajinii.

“She has no equal.”

“Except for Bhojja.”

“I will have to see it to believe it.”

They cantered through the gates and into the fields north of Jivita. It was nearing dusk on a beautiful, but exceptionally warm spring day. The horses slowed to a walk. Several dozen horsemen hovered within sight, but Torg and the queen paid them no heed. They rode for a while without speaking, enjoying the smell of the sweet air.

Finally Torg broke the silence. “Why Elu?”

“What do you mean?”

“Rajinii!”

“You
know
why I did it—to make you angry. You’ve hurt me. I wanted to hurt you back.”

“When he accepted your offer, he knew naught what he was doing. Rescind it.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Besides, he is pleased to be in my service.”

“When the wars are over, he’ll no longer be pleased.”

“What does that matter? Few will survive the coming horrors. Once I fall, he’ll be released from service, so you can stop fretting.”

“Why are you so certain of your demise?”

“Women know these things.”

“A poor answer.”

“It’s the only one I have to give.”

Torg rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he stared hard into Rajinii’s eyes. “Tell me your dreams.”

“Why,
Torgon
, you’ve never said such a thing to me before. Are you flirting?”

“Not those dreams, Rajinii.”

The queen grew defensive, her lips pursing. “Don’t we have more important things to discuss? Military strategy, for one.”

“It’s clear that General Navarese has everything under control.”

“Navarese is brash and uncouth, but he serves a valuable purpose.”

“In other words, he frees you from attending planning sessions.”

“Of what use is planning? The druids will attack, most of them will die, a lot of us will die, and then we’ll wait for Mala to finish us off. It’s not nearly as complicated as Navarese would have us believe.”

“Nor as simple as Bernard?”

“Exactly!”

“If you’re so convinced that Jivita will fall, why fight at all? You should gather your people—military and civilian—march to the ocean, and follow the coast to oblivion.”

“I have ridden beyond the havens, beyond even the southern range of Kincara. There is nothing there but barren wastes more hostile than Barranca. As you well know, Torgon, escape is impossible. But I care naught. I welcome death. Ekadeva awaits with open arms.”

“Tell me your dreams,” he repeated.

“Are you asking if
Ekadeva
speaks to me while I sleep? Let me guess: You’ve been to
Boulogne’s
and met with Burly.”

“You’ve always been clever.”

“But not clever enough. Or beautiful enough. Or sexy enough.”

“Why does everything always have to be about your shortcomings? I didn’t reject your overtures because you’re not worthy of me. I had my own reasons.”

Rajinii leaned forward in her saddle. “Why do you ask about my dreams? Is my recent behavior unworthy of a queen?”

“The times are dire, but pessimism is unlike you. You have changed. And I’m concerned that Invictus might be playing a role. I believe he watches the city—and especially you—from afar.”

“Let me guess: You believe he does
more
than watch, that he has somehow poisoned my mind.”

“I wish to lay my hands on you.”

“
Torgon
, really! What kind of lady do you think I am?”

“You know what I mean.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I will not force you.”

“Ahhh, too bad. I was hoping you would.”

Torg’s expression remained stern.

“Where’s your sense of humor,
Torgon
?” Rajinii finally said. “Has Laylah stolen it?”

“Not Laylah . . . her brother.”

“I see your point. All right, I’ll allow it. Where should this blessed event occur?”

“Your chambers will do. But there’s something else you might not like. I want Laylah to be with us.”

“To make sure that you and I don’t misbehave?”

“She has formidable powers of her own.”

“Hmmmm . . . If I’m to agree to this, I wish to choose a fourth.”

“Manta?”

“No. I want Sir Elu at my side.”

Torg grunted. “There’s one thing about you that hasn’t changed. You’re always looking for ways to cause trouble.”