The Assassin King (9 page)

Anborn could feel war coming on, but that was not unusual. Anyone who had attended the meeting in the tiny room behind the tapestry could feel the same thing; in fact, not to be able to do so denoted a thickness of skull that would be embarrassing. What Anborn was feeling was not as much the advent of war, but gut sensation of his role in it, or at least what he suspected his role was to be. And, for the first time in many centuries, he was secretly looking forward to it. He sat back as far as he could, taking his useless legs and extending them by hand as Gerald Owen and Melisande Navarne made their way into the hidden room with trays of food for those remaining within. His eyes narrowed as they sighted on the young girl with golden ringlets who was placing a tray down on the table in front of him. “Who is this?” he demanded gruffly. “I thought this meeting was to be held in secret, and yet here you have brought in an unknown serving wench, quite probably a spy.” The girl's black eyes rolled in fond annoyance. “You are in severe need of a new joke, Lord Marshal,” she said, lifting the lid of the tray and handing him a linen napkin. “You know very well that I am Melisande Navame, seeing as you are my godfather, and have been tossing me around like a ball since I was a baby.” “Ah, and that is why I know you to be an imposter,” Anborn said smugly as he laid the napkin across his useless legs. “Melisande Navame is still a baby; she fits in the length of my forearm between my wrist and elbow.” He clapped his hand against his arm for emphasis. “You, however, are a big impudent lummox, and could not possibly be that sweet, tiny little girl.” Melisande assumed the position of a servant, her arms behind her back.

“Much as it pains me to remind you that you are aging, Lord Marshal—” “Ow,” Granthor muttered as Rial and Achmed lowered their heads, smiling. "—I am in fact your goddaughter and the Lady Navarne, second in line to this duchy, I might add. I am nine years old, soon to be ten on the first day of spring, and am more than four times the length of your forearm.

Additionally, I can run, ride, shoot an arrow, and wield a dagger; I am expert in horsemanship and routinely curry and tack the entire livery. I get far better reports from the tutors than my brother ever did, and am very tired of being left in the nursery when important matters are being discussed. I could be quite valuable to the council, certainly at least as a messenger or maybe a spy.“ The girl's dark eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and resentment. ”I would like to register my displeasure at being left out of everything, plainly but politely, and say that if Rhapsody had had so stifled an upbringing she would never have grown into the lady, queen, and warrior that she is. I consider this a terrible waste of valuable Cymrian assets.“ ”I'll waste your valuable Cymrian asset, young lady,“ the Lord Marshal shouted, swinging playfully at her hindquarters. Melisande dodged, as she always did at this point in the game, then hurriedly followed Gerald Owen out of the hidden room. ”Well, that one 'as a mouth on her,“ said Granthor approvingly. ”If you can't find somethin' for 'er ta do, give 'er ta me—Oi'll make right fine use of 'er.“ ”Don't tempt me,“ muttered Gwydion Navarne. ”I can have all her possessions packed and on the keep steps in less than fifteen minutes."

“Spoken more like a frustrated older brother than an invested duke,” said Anborn curtly.

“Mark my words, young Navarne—that girl will make you proud that you are related to her one day.”

“Probably,” said Gwydion Navarne ruefully. “And it's more likely to take fifteen days to get her packed.” I confess, Rhapsody, it is very disturbing to discover that you are keeping a secret from me with Achmed,“ Ashe said as they came from behind the tapestry into the Great Hall. ”I thought there was nothing that we kept one from another. I have certainly trusted you with all of my secrets, hideous as many of them have been.“ Rhapsody squeezed his hand. ”I would have told you all that I know about this, Sam, but it is not my secret to tell. Some time back, when you and I were both in the desert of Yarim, when the Bolg were tunneling for water below the fountain of Entudenin, Achmed showed me a thin parchment document from the oldest of times, long before the Cymrian era, perhaps even from the Lost Island itself. It was a schematic of a machine the likes of which I had never seen before that employs the rainbow spectrum of light together with the sound spectrum of the musical scale to generate different sorts of powers—the power of healing, the power of scrying and hiding, and many others I have not yet figured out. He did not leave this information with me, even though I recognized it as being some of the most elemental and basic lore of the world, ancient in its origin, and I warned him to be careful with it, that even the master Namers are only privy to some of that lore. “When he came to Gwydion's investiture, he brought the document with him yet again. He asked me to translate it, and I took it with me when you brought me to Elynsynos's Lair to visit with her. In that time, I came to understand what it meant, what the lore was, and what the risks of using it were. It almost ended our friendship, as a matter of fact. After Meridion's birth, I told Achmed I never wished to see him again, because he was so insistent on having the translation in spite of my warnings. But upon reflection, and after we had a heart-to-heart talk when we were trapped within the protection of Llauron's body, I came to understand what it is that he really wishes to do. He has had some experience with this instrumentality before, in the old land, and he feels that if we are in fact going to be battling forces that precede history, we must have weapons whose origin and power preceded it as well.” “There is wisdom in that,” Ashe acknowledged. “In addition, while the instrumentality as Gwylliam and Anwyn utilized it threatened to wake the Sleeping Child, the wyrm that sleeps at the center of the earth, Achmed seems to have discovered a way to power it, not from fire or from the Earth's lore, as they did, but rather to utilize the light of the sun and the stars to do so, which should make it much safer to use, even though it still must be done judiciously. It should also be more powerful—each of the elements has greater power in the order it was created, so ether supersedes all, followed by fire, water, wind, and earth sequentially. Using ether to power our Lightcatcher should make it both immense in its effect and as safe as it can possibly be as well. If we can use it to guard the Earthchild and secure the mountains, scry to find the enemy and defeat them, it will have been worth the risk and the damage our friendship has sustained because of it.” “I do not doubt your wisdom, Aria,” Ashe said, taking her hand in both of his. “It is perhaps petty, especially given all that we are to each other, but there is something that galls me about Achmed requiring secrecy of you that keeps us apart, even the smallest of ways. I guess it's an immature resentment; chalk it up to the possessiveness of dragon blood.” Rhapsody kissed his hand. 'There are no more secrets between us,“ she said, ”though there are some that only we know. There is a secret that you and I keep, alone, one to the other, and always have.“ Ashe smiled ruefully. ”Really?“ he asked. ”It seems to me that there are none between you and both of the Firbolg. You've known them far longer and in far different circumstances than we have known each other, even if we did meet first in time.“ ”Yes, but only you know that, and only you know my real name,“ she said. ”I have only spoken it once in this world, and it was in the wedding ceremony we held in secret. Only in the grotto of Elysian can the reverberations of that name be found, and even the greatest of Namers would have trouble doing so. And they still do not know that we met first on the other side of Time; only we share the memory of that sweet night, something that has comforted me, and no doubt you, often over the intervening time. So, you are in fact the guardian of my lost lore, and of my heart. You are my past, and my future. And that will ever be.“ Ashe sighed. ”If only I could be your Present,“ he said. The baby in his arms let out a squeal of hunger, and they both laughed. ”I think someone is in line ahead of you,"

Rhapsody said. “And while you can roar with the best of your kind, he still wins for sheer volume and pitch.” She put the fussing baby to the breast, gently caressing bis golden curls.

Ashe exhaled solemnly. “Aria, I am going to ask you to do something that I would rather die than see you do.” Rhapsody looked up in surprise. “Then don't,” she said simply. “If you feel that way about it—” “We have no choice,” Ashe interrupted. “You must leave here, with Meridion, tonight. If we hadn't accepted the mantle of leadership, it would be one thing; I could spirit you and the baby away, take you across the sea or hide you in the holy forest of Gwynwood near the Great White Tree, and you would both be as safe as it would be possible for me to make you. But we have committed our trust and our fealty to a nation, to an Alliance, and now that war is looming, we cannot go back on our vows, even for the purpose of remaining together. At the same time, the rest of the world can be damned if it means that either you or our son is in danger; that is the one thing I cannot bear. I will not be able to remain sane should anything happen to either of you. The Rampage of the Wyrm may have been a fictitious manuscript according to Elynsynos, but I feel deep within me an undeniable belief that it would come to pass should I lose you. I have already set the forest alight more than once when I believed you were lost to me. Just the knowledge that there are entities out there, scrying for Meridion, makes the wyrm within my blood ascendant, longing for vengeance and destruction. ”While I believe that Highmeadow has the strongest of fortifications possible, to keep you here when there are eyes watching, looking for our son, would be folly and selfish, not to mention unwise. There really is only one place that both of you will be safe as the world begins to cave in.“ ”What are you saying, Sam?“ Rhapsody asked, her voice shaking. Ashe lowered his head. ”With your permission, I want to petition Achmed to take you into his care. You and the baby should leave with him and Grunthor tonight, before the light breaks, and travel off the road, probably through Canderre and Yarim rather than Bethany, and possibly through the northeastern corner of Bethe Corbair, where there is nothing but desert, no landmarks or fortifications where you could be found by one who has the power to scry from a distance.“ He exhaled deeply. ”I cannot tell you how much I wish to vomit at this very moment. Nonetheless, I believe we need to move in all due haste. If the Bolg can agree, and I have no reason to believe that they will not, and if you are willing, and feel that you are able to make the journey, as soon as this council ends I will set about making provisions so that you can leave before First-light.“ Rhapsody leaned back against the wall as the child nursed. ”What a beautiful love song,“ she mused. ”Pardon?“ ”What you just said to me were perhaps the most beautiful words of love I have ever heard,“ she said, smiling sadly. ”I well know how much you hate this idea, how much it galls you to the very soul, how difficult it was for you to propose it. It will be similarly difficult for me to grant your request.

But, as I don't have a better idea, I fear you are right, and to do anything else were to insufficiently safeguard our greatest treasure.“ She looked down at the baby, now drowsing at the breast. ”You will do it then?" Ashe asked, his expression a mixture of relief and dread.

Rhapsody closed her blouse and swaddled the child again. “I will, for him,” she said. “I will go to Ylorc and help Achmed with his infernal Lightcatcher, in the hope that it may both protect the mountains and help turn the tide to end the war more quickly. But I tell you this, Sam: when Meridion is weaned, and safe, I will return to the front. I am the Iliachen-va'ar; I have no business bearing a sword of elemental fire in hiding. It would be an insult to Oelendra and the training she gave me to stand by for the sake of my own safety when others are dying.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Ashe said. Rhapsody smiled at him. “And should you receive word that something has befallen me, let Anborn prosecute the war until you are ready to assume command.” Rhapsody's smile faded. “Come; we should be returning,” she said. She rose and gave Ashe her hand again, and together they headed back to the small, dark room beyond a hidden door. He stopped one last time at the window just before the tapestry, in a pool of light from the nearby windows, and sat down on a bench beneath it. Rhapsody sat down slowly as well. “You have not told me of Llauron's death,” he said quietly. “Did my father suffer in the end? I know you will tell me the truth, sworn to it as you are, being a Namer, but do not spare me the blow of the words as my wife. Just tell me.”

“He did not, in my estimation,” Rhapsody said gently. “He stepped between Anwyn and me, with Meridion in my arms, and surrounded us with his ethereal essence—and then he was gone, his body a shell of elemental earth, a mist lingering within it. There was no pain, no hurt your grandmother could have inflicted on him, though I suppose there was regret in the last knowledge of her being willing to take his life, after all he I had done and sacrificed for her throughout history. You saw the expression in his eyes, Sam; it was peace, and resignation—he knew he had saved his grandchild from certain death. I think, if nothing else, that will bring him to the door of the Lord and Lady Rowan, and to life everlasting.”

Rhapsody watched for the hint of water in his cerulean blue eyes, eyes scored strangely and beautifully by draconic vertical pupils, but there was no such sign, an absence that betrayed an even deeper sorrow, one beyond tears. “I don't know what possessed me to be so cruel to him the last time we saw each other,” Ashe said. “He was so excited about Meridion, so desirous to make amends so that he might be part of his grandchild's life. And I spurned him, turned him away, told him he would never gain what he wanted. I don't know what possessed me.” She took his hand. “The same thing that possesses me to leave all that I know, all that I love,” she said simply, without sentiment. “The duty—and the desire—to keep our son safe at any price.” Her small calloused fingertip caressed his palm. “Llauron understood that as well, more titan anyone I have ever known. He Ended, protecting his grandchild. Only once more in all of history has such a sacrifice been made. When he is older, Meridion will know how much Llauron must have loved him to make it. And, though I can't be certain, it seems as if he may have passed some of his lore along to Meridion—I thought I beheld a mist hovering in the prison of Llauron's body that the baby breathed in.”