03 - The Eternal Rose (20 page)

“He's right,” Joh said. “I can feel it. I think we all can. We just didn't realize what it was."

“I think she's been pulling back from us since yesterday,” Torchay said. “A bit at a time, until now she's gone so far she can't come back."

“She has to,” Keldrey said. “What about the demons?"

Fresh horror slid through Viyelle and she shuddered. She'd forgotten about the demons, about anything but her own pain. Could this mess have something to do with demons?

“What do we do?” Obed took Kallista's limp hand between both of his, quarrel forgotten. “How do we bring her back?"

They all looked at each other helplessly before Torchay finally said it. “I don't know."

“We keep trying,” Joh said. “Whatever we can think of. We talk to her. We love her. We need her. We push that love and need down the links until we get through. All of us."

“Get rid of the Daryathi servants,” Keldrey said. “We don't need ‘em. We can take care of ourselves. All the locals in the whole embassy. Nobody comes inside who's not Adaran. That way, long as we're inside these walls, we don't have to worry about hiding the ilian in pairs."

“We can't send back that new champion of ours,” Viyelle reminded them.

“He stays in the barracks."

“Maybe the funeral will help her,” Aisse said.

“And maybe it won't.” Leyja looked worried.

“It's got to be done though,” Torchay said. “Soon."

“I'll take care of it.” Viyelle didn't want to decide it all herself, but she would.

“I'll help,” Joh said.

Viyelle nodded, smiled at him. “You always do."

“Since you're chief of staff, Vee, I think you'd better meet these justiciars with Obed.” Torchay stood, hands on hips, staring down at Kallista.

Yet another task for her list. Viyelle needed paper to write them all down so she didn't forget one.

“Whoever isn't busy with something else, be in here,” Torchay said. “Trying to get through to her.” He sighed. “And I suppose I'll go let the ambassador know about the servants. She won't be happy."

“Too bad,” Keldrey said. “What about the kids?"

“They might get through to her,” Obed said.

“They might be frightened,” Leyja fretted.

“Saints, what's got you so gloomy?” Keldrey grabbed her by the back of the neck and shook her gently. “Never mind. I know. You can't feel Kallista. Kids are smarter than you think. They'll know something's wrong, and if you don't tell ‘em what it is, they'll be dreaming up something a thousand times worse than the truth. And they might help bring her back."

“We can work out a schedule,” Torchay said, “so it's not a mob scene in here. Keldrey, you and Leyja can do that.” He looked from one to the other. “All right then, let's get busy."

* * * *

Endless days later, Obed strode through the embassy, his robes billowing behind him, scarcely pausing at the hurriedly constructed gate in the walls between the Reinine's residence and the embassy proper. He was in a hurry. Viyelle had to break into an occasional jog to keep up. Leyja merely stretched her long legs a bit.

The justiciars had finally come to discuss terms for the trial, and Obed begrudged every moment he had to spend with them. Kallista still had not returned from wherever she'd gone.

MorethanaweekhadpassedsinceStone'smurder.ItwasFifthdayagain. The justiciars had taken their time arranging this meeting. As usual.

The funeral had been last Fifthday, in the embassy's largest courtyard. They'd had to lead Kallista to her place at the head of the family. Torchay had placed the brand into her hand and held it there with his hand around hers when it was time to light the fire. Obed had had his own torch to deal with, but he still resented Torchay taking that place. He knew he had no right to resentment, tried to push it away, but it kept bubbling back up.

Kallista's body had attended Stone's funeral. Her spirit had been elsewhere. He wouldn't have thought she'd react like this, but—Obed only hoped she had not gone to be with Stone.

The embassy's truthsayer met them outside the council room doors. Obed didn't like this. At all. They needed Kallista and they needed all of her magic. But until they discovered a way to bring her back, they would have to get by as best they could.

He nodded to the truthsayer. Leyja opened the doors and Obed swept inside, playing the part of one-and-only-Reinas to the hilt.

The three justiciars sprang to their feet and bowed, looking from Obed to the obviously subordinate truthsayer, then to Viyelle and Leyja who were dressed in finery almost the equal of Obed's. Clearly, they did not know who ranked highest, whom to address. Obed gave an Adaran-style bow and let his robe slide a bit from his bare shoulders, exposing his body tattoos. He did not like to go about unclothed—he'd done far too much of it in his life—but sometimes the effect was worth it, as now. The justiciars could not seem to stop staring.

The head of the group, distinguished from her colleagues by the medallion of office that hung round her neck and the black trim on her white robes, introduced herself and her companions. Obviously, she hoped for a similar introduction so she would know whom to address. Obed was tempted to forego one—they knew perfectly well who he was. But good little courtier Viyelle stepped hard on his foot, so he did it.

“I was told the Reinine Kallista took a personal interest in this case.” The head justiciar sat at Obed's invitation.

“My Reinine is indisposed.” Obed flipped the tail of his robe out of the way as he took his place. “One of her Godmarked was murdered. But yes, she has a personal interest, which is why I am here, as well as her chief-of-staff."

“The matter is the redemption of a bondservant boy, child of a bondservant formerly named Merinda il-Kyndir?"

A battle with words, not swords.
Obed took a moment to recite the dedicat's litany to clear his mind of all but his purpose here at this moment. No echoes from his childhood or the skola and arena. None of his desperate worry over Kallista. Just now. This.

He let Viyelle answer the question. He was here for the effect of his tattoos on the justiciars—these women had seen him in the arena-court many, many times—and to share his knowledge with the chief Adaran negotiator, Viyelle.

“
Tournament,
” she was saying, for the second time, louder. “Enough blood has been spilled already. My Reinine will not agree to more death."

“The Habadra has no dedicat champion in her Line to pit against yours. She hasn't the funds for a tournament. She has enough for one champion. It must be to the death."

“Absolutely not.” Viyelle shook her head vehemently.

“Then you forfeit—"

“We will pay,” Obed said. “We will provide prize money for four champions in addition to the one Habadra can provide."

“A case of this magnitude—” The head justiciar shook her head, not at all the apologetic she pretended to be. “Between two of the most powerful Lines in the world—if it is not a death trial, I do not see how it can be done with less than six combats. Eight would be better, to avoid unlucky seven."

“If Habadra Line is so powerful, they can pay for more than one champion. There are dedicats who will fight for nothing."

“Not for a rich and powerful Line like Habadra. But their riches are in land and crops, not in ready cash. Adara is the richest land in the world."

“But this case is not Adara's. It is a matter of the Varyl Line. Of family. We will pay for five champions for Habadra then, but we will not pay more than our share.” Obed kept repeating his mind-clearing litany. This sort of battle did not allow him to leap across the table and choke the breath out of his opponent. Unfortunately. The twitching of Leyja's hands told him she felt the temptation as well.

The afternoon wore away and autumn's earlier evening set in as they hammered out agreement. The justiciars would go back to Habadra for her agreement and more hammering would doubtless be required. But the main terms were set. The trial would be a tournament of eight single combats, with a final mêlée battle the next day, the whole to be held three weeks after all the elements were agreed to and champions named.

Keldrey's continuing visits to Stone's son were added to the justiciars’ trial order. Only the petty details were left, but in Obed's experience, the petty details often took longer to beat into submission than the larger elements of a thing.

At last, after interminable bowing and politeness, Obed was set free to return to Kallista's side. He flew through the embassy, whose corridors had never seemed so endlessly long. He found her sitting in the courtyard under the same tree where he'd left her, candles and torches providing gentle light.

The weather had changed in the past few days, a violent thunderstorm bringing cooler weather behind it. Pleasant weather, like summer in Arikon, rather than Daryath's oppressive heat. It made the courtyard an even more inviting retreat. Kallista sat passively, fallen flower petals decorating her hair, while their children played quiet games with chalk and buttons on the paving stones. Could nothing reach her?

“How is she?” Obed asked Keldrey who stood a casual watch on the scene from the doorway. “The same?"

“Yeah.” Keldrey let a long breath sigh out through his nose. “Torchay tried calling her again. For a minute, I thought she might answer. But—” He shook his head.

Obed fought the wave of jealousy that swept over him, but it was relentless as the tide. He knew better, had conquered it in Adara, but the familiar sights and smells of his former home brought all his dreams and insecurities back again. Did she truly love him? Was he even worth loving? How could he know?

They all talked to her, called her, tried to bring her back from wherever she'd gone. Obed's voice had gone rough, his throat sore from all his calling and talking. But it was Torchay's voice she heard,
Torchay's
touch that roused her.

Obed knew he should be glad that someone could get through to her, but damn it, why couldn't
he
be the one?

“How did the meeting go?” Joh drifted over to join them.

Obed resisted the snappish response on the tip of his tongue. “After the children have gone to bed.” He picked up Omri, who promptly laid his head on Obed's shoulder and popped his thumb in his mouth. Obed stroked a hand over his son's curls, breathed in his little-boy scent, taking what comfort he could.

“Yeah, it's time.” Keldrey signaled to the hovering nursery servants who'd made the journey with them from Adara.

Obed carried his son to bed himself, needing to hold the child he and Kallista had made for just a little longer. They
would
bring her back to them.

* * * *

Padrey sat on top of the courtyard wall in the shadow of a carefully watered winter oak, watching the royal Adaran ilian assemble below. It had been a job and a half getting here. The place was crawling with guards, alert and conscientious ones. But once he'd reached the tree, hidden himself in shadows made deeper by the torchlight below and stopped moving, he'd been able to watch and remain unnoticed.

Something was wrong with the Reinine. He couldn't see her well with that little tree shading the bench where she sat, but it wasn't natural, not moving like that. She wasn't a thief. Her life didn't depend on being able to stay still. Her ilian talked to her. The kids talked to her, wanted her to play. And nothing. She didn't answer them, didn't seem to see them.

Padrey had positioned himself close enough he could hear what they said, and the Reinine hadn't said anything since he'd found his hiding place while the servants cleared away dinner.

Now, with the children gone and the adults regrouping, Padrey went stiller than still and listened. The Daryathi in the ilian—unbelievable concept that it was—told the others about an upcoming trial while he, Leyja and another woman ate a late meal. They were trying to redeem a slave child from Habadra Line, the son of their murdered ilias. Padrey shivered as memories rose. No kin had come to redeem him.

“Can't we get him away from the Habadra any sooner than that?” Leyja asked. “Couldn't the justiciars take custody of him as the—the property in dispute?” Her disgust at the word “property” showed clearly. It made Padrey like her more.

“I worry what this Chani might do to him,” she said. “Bad enough we had to leave Merinda to Habadra justice, but if they blame Sky for his mother's crimes..."

The existence of the boy-child changed all of Padrey's perceptions. The actions of the Reinine and her ilias had been taken to protect this boy, their son. They were emphatically not Daryathi. They were Adaran.

“The Habadra can't do anything to Sky with me coming to check on him every day,” the man with the shaved head and bodyguard blacks was saying. “You came with me yourself yesterday. You saw him."

“Through a gap in the damned barricade.” Leyja folded her arms and slumped sulkily against the fountain's rim.

“I don't understand why Habadra Chani is so set on keeping him.” That was the brown-haired man with the waist-length queue. “According to embassy personnel, Chani was not close to her mother. Their quarrels tended to be public and of epic proportions. Why would she be so intent on revenge? And if that's not why she wants him, what
is
the reason?"

“Guilt?” One of the other women spoke, the one who'd eaten late with Leyja and their Daryathi, her brown hair pulled back in a short queue like the Reinine's. “Maybe she's glad her mother's gone and feels guilty for it, so she needs to prove that she's actually sad and upset by getting revenge?"

Didn't these people know anything?
Padrey's fidgeting made the leaves of his tree rustle. Leyja and the redheaded man—also a bodyguard—looked sharply in his direction. Padrey froze, his mind a dust-devil of whirling thought. Even their Daryathi didn't seem to know the truth of what happened here.

If he told them, exposed his presence here, they could kill him. But he'd lived almost half his life running that risk. And they might
not
kill him. They might get him out of this place and back to Adara where he could truly be free.