Divided (37 page)

“Deciphering the meaning of words spoken will always be
a dangerous task to undertake.”

-A Hero’s Peace v.i

Tareth Tsrali sat comfortably in the room of crimson walls
and black carpet.  He’d thought it was rather clever to reverse the color
scheme of the entire castle.  He wouldn’t go so far as to defy the colors of
the place, like his overconfident brother had, but he didn’t want to be a
mindless puppet to father either. 

Not that Lavus cared what he did.  He could probably have
slept in Dark District, and Lavus wouldn’t have bothered to notice.  Even when
his oh-so-perfect brother had been gone for five years, Tareth had been unable
to get any favor from Lavus.  No, all Lavus cared about was his own power, and
Calis—so help him.  Tareth had tried to like Calis, truly, he had.  But his
brother was just as dismissive of him as their father ever was.

Not only that, but Calis had managed to ruin the one chance
that Tareth had to get his hands on that insolent vigilante.  Oh, the things he
would do to that loathsome, hasty-witted, little knave.  Tareth’s blood boiled
at the thought of it.  And Calis—Magisters damn him—had ruined the one chance
in three years that Tareth had at making the rat pay.  Oh, how he had searched
for the man behind that wretched mask.

But this sun was not one that should consist of his
worrying.  He should not be bothered with thoughts of his brother, his father,
or that pathetic varlot.  No, he would enjoy this sun—which was the sun of his
birth.  No one would realize it, surely, except possibly his mother.  But his
brother was always preoccupied with mysterious business, and Lavus could not be
bothered with such nonsense.

Tareth would award himself by a sun of birth that would
please a king—eve Lavus, for that matter.  Ordinarily, this sort of thing would
constitute an affair, a ball perhaps.  Well, not ordinarily, he supposed.  But,
should it have been Calis’s sun of birth, then Tareth knew that Lavus would not
let it go unnoticed.  No, Calis would certainly get a lavish celebration, complete
with women in those restricting dresses and men with their colorful overcoats. 
Not Tareth, though, Tareth would have to make his own sun of birth lovely.

He glanced to the elaborate golden mirror than hung on the
wall near to his vanity.  His hair was getting long again, he observed.  It
moved past his shoulders, and currently, it was in disarray.  After his wash,
he would have it braided, though, so it would be of little consequence.

There was no sense wasting any more time in his room on this
lovely sun unwashed.  He headed to the bathroom, calling some pathetic woman
servant to make her heat up the bath.  The woman fumbled about like a halfwit
in his presence, and he didn’t even bother to hit her for it.  Instead, he
moved straight to the heated water and submerged himself in it.

He typically spent very much time in the wash.  He found
something incredibly peaceful about the heated liquid, not having to answer to
any of his father’s whims, and not having to see the way the women ogled Calis. 
Or the way his brother pretended to be blissfully unaware of it all.  Not only
that, but Calis had been downright neglectful to the woman that he was supposed
to marry.  Lady Krystal Avyon was the single sexiest woman in all of
Telandus—probably all of Elyst, and yet Calis seemed almost disappointed at
their marriage.

That was probably all a charade, Tareth thought, Calis must
have loved Lady Avyon’s company—but he didn’t want father to know that he did. 
Tareth didn’t know why his brother bothered trying to appease their father,
when it appeared that Calis could do no wrong.  Oh, what Tareth wouldn’t give
to exploit his brother in a way that their father could not ignore.

Spending a few more precious moments in the wash, Tareth
contemplated what he intended to do first on this very important occasion.  He
still hadn’t decided as he stepped out to dry himself, and then dressed in the
fine black, golden, and red clothing that the servant had retrieved for him. 
He found the bath servant again easily.  “Send a servant to my room, at once,”
he said harshly.  “And get my advisor.”

Without waiting for her bow, which he knew that she gave, he
headed back to his room. He felt much more gratified in the clothing that he
wore now, with hair properly washed and combed.  He was not finished getting
ready, but he would be soon, and there was something empowering about looking
like a noble. 

The servant, a tall male with black hair, entered a few
moments later.  “Braid my hair,” he instructed severely.  The man was often
sent into Tareth’s room to braid his hair, so he was already preparing by the time
Tareth had finished the demand.  Tareth was glad that his father’s servants
were smart enough to repeat patterns.  Most of them were brought up as
servants, and as such, were much more equipped to handle his needs than the
servants Tareth… acquired from Dark District.

Nevertheless, there was something much more exciting about
those servants who were unwilling.  How he enjoyed breaking down their free
will and making them realize just how pathetic they were.  Sure, he may be
cruel, but he could not help what he enjoyed.  Why should he restrain himself
from things that pleasured him when he was in a position to take precisely what
he wanted?

A flash of anger shot through him at the thought of his
servants.  He had always taken pride in those that he’d stolen from Dark
District—and only one of them had ever disappeared back into it.  A blond woman
by the name of Leliana.  That had been one of the first works of the bloody
Phantom Blade.  The one action that Tareth would enjoy taking revenge for most
thoroughly.  Bringing whoever that masked vigilante was into the castle, and
forcing him into servitude, would have been the most glorious of triumphs. 
But, as of yet, and thanks to his impertinent brother, he had been unable to
acquire that.

Irrelevant for now, he assured himself.  He would get his
hands on the Phantom Blade one sun, and then he would enjoy every superb drop
of pain that he caused the boy before he watched him hang.  Or perhaps, he
wouldn’t hang him at all…

A moment later, as the servant diligently braided Tareth’s
lengthening hair, his advisor entered.  The man was very round, with red hair
and a face to match.  His cheeks were always flushed red, and his eyes were a
dull green.  “Master, you called for me,” the man said respectfully.

Of course, Tareth’s advisor no more respected him than he
respected the rug on which he walked.  No advisors truly cared for their
masters—that was well known.  Advisors only took positions such as these to
gain position, and Tareth had been taught that from an early age.  But, his
advisor, Tarmos was his name, should feel honored that he was given the
privilege of advising a prince.  Naturally, he didn’t.

Still, Tarmos was better than Lee Keiichi.  Calis’s advisor
was certainly the most insolent person in Elyst.  He didn’t seem at all
interested in Tareth, nor did he seem to respect Calis.  Calis and Lee
fraternized as though they were friends, and though Tareth knew Lavus saw—and
didn’t approve—Lavus said nothing, allowing Calis to do precisely as he
pleased.  Why had his brother chosen such an advisor?  Tareth would never
know.  “I did,” Tareth said dryly, “I wanted to let you know that I will be
down in my other quarters all sun.  Tell my mother, and anyone else who might
seek me out, that I am there and am not to be disturbed, do we understand one
another?”

He made sure that his voice held all the superiority that it
should over one as lowly as his advisor.  “Yes, you highness, and what if your
father calls?” the man asked thoughtfully.  It was, after all, an advisor’s
duty to ensure that his master was prepared for all situations.  The odds that
Lavus would need anything from his lowly second son were small indeed, however. 
“Tell him that I have occupied myself with the servants, and come get me at
once.”

The man nodded his head quietly.  The braiding continued,
and the servant was so accustomed that it did not take him nearly the time it
would have taken another.  Tareth dismissed the man shortly and glanced at his
advisor.  “Is there anything else?”

“Ah, yes, your highness—your brother wishes to speak with
you.”  What an odd turn of events, Tareth thought wildly.  Why would Calis wish
to speak with him?  Calis had been doing a rather fine job of extending the
distance between both of them as of late.

Tareth didn’t see any reason to spurn his brother, though,
and that would only give Calis more leverage with their father.  No, he would
go see his brother for whatever reason the fool wanted.  “Where will I find
him, then?”

“He is in the sitting room, but he assures you that any
correspondence will be brief.”

Tareth nodded to his advisor and dismissed the man.  He
headed towards the sitting room at once and couldn’t help the slight bit of
dread that entered his stomach.  Calis wasn’t the sort to call meetings in the
sitting room. 

When he entered, though, his brother leaned on one of the
far walls. 
Well,
Tareth thought,
at least he is still himself enough
not to be sitting in the sitting room—that would be far too practical for my
elder brother.

“Brother,” Calis said smoothly.  His voice was always
carefully manicured, as though he had spent suns preparing and perfecting the
sound of it.  How Calis did it, Tareth would never know—or perhaps one sun he
would. 

Nervousness had not completely evaporated as Tareth stared
at his blond brother.  Calis was so much taller than him that even standing
near his brother bothered him.  “What is it, Calis?” Tareth asked, trying to
hide his anxiousness.

Rather than immediately informing Tareth, Calis smiled that
perfected smile of his.  “What a foolish question to ask me, Tareth,” Calis
said.  Was Tareth being mocked?  No, he had not wanted to do anything of this
sort on this sun.

“Why?” he asked irately.

“This is the sun that bore you, my brother.  Why else would
I have called you to a meeting?”  All other thoughts dissipated into the air as
Tareth realized that his brother had, in fact, remembered his sun of birth.  “I
thought I ought to give you your gift before I went off to handle my own
affairs.”

Tareth stood, dumbfounded, as he looked at his older
brother.  There was something different about Calis, Tareth noted.  It was not
altogether settling either.  The smile on his brother’s face was not, in fact,
the perfect smile that he was used to seeing.  No, there was a difference in
the smile, and the way Calis Tsrali moved his body.  A sprightliness than
Tareth had not seen imbue his brother for a very long time.  Rather than
pausing to wait for Tareth’s response, Calis extended his hand and opened it to
reveal a golden amulet.

The amulet was made of solid gold and sparkled in the light
that was let in by the sun from the windows in this room.  This was, after all,
one of the few rooms in the castle that was permitted to have windows—mostly
because Lavus never used it.  In the center of the amulet, which consisted of
two crossed swords within a golden ring—was a dark ruby.  The gift was
unexpected, at best.  “This is lovely, brother,” Tareth said warily.

Calis just offered him a smile and placed the amulet in his
hands.  “I’m glad you approve,” he said thoughtfully.  “I will let you go about
your business for the sun, then.  I’m sure you have plenty planned.”

Following Calis out of the room, Tareth eased the amulet
around his neck.  The way the necklace glittered in the few lights that caught
it was breathtaking.  Perhaps his brother did not hate him as much as Tareth
had thought, or perhaps Calis didn’t want Tareth to think that he hated him. 
Either way, the amulet was quite the gift.  Though, the unsettling thought
remained within Tareth’s mind as his brother offered him a final farewell.

As Calis walked down the hall, he paused to greet both of
the servants that passed with an air of familiarity.  Calis had never held the
same disregard for the servants that Tareth and Lavus had, but he had certainly
never been so friendly with them.  No, something had changed, Tareth realized. 
The way Calis’s body moved—he was not just spritely, he was happy.  Tareth had
always taken solace that his older brother seemed to have his own set of
problems, that the two of them were perpetually unhappy in this castle
together.  But now, Calis seemed to have shaken that.  His happiness was
suffocating.

What had happened that would change Calis’s demeanor so
profoundly?  This would have been more acceptable had Calis returned from Dokak
with such an attitude, but he had not.  Whatever had changed Calis had happened
recently, and Tareth intended to find out what it was.  Perhaps Calis thought
he would be king soon, or perhaps this was the prince’s real reaction to being
engaged to the fairest woman in all of Elyst.

Or perhaps there was something else, Tareth thought—something
that was worth investigating.  But on another sun, he promised himself.  On
another sun he would find a way to ruin his brother forever and remove that
insufferable happiness.  But on this sun, Tareth would focus on finding a peculiar
happiness of his own.

He descended into the lower portion of the castle, the one
that was not decorated in crimson and held only black stones and flames.  As he
entered one of the higher parts of the dungeon, he stepped into the small room
that he had claimed for his own.  There were different sorts of beds, whips,
and chains, all scattered throughout the place.  His own little private chamber
where he was able to do precisely as he pleased.

Whips, specifically designed outfits, chains that decorated
the walls, and ropes that could hold a servant in place.  Then, there were the
cells at the back of the room.  They were dark and dank, without the slightest
luxury.  Inside them were the servants that he had collected from Dark District,
Tareth had moved them here after Leliana had been stolen from him.  Now they
would all be together and locked up more appropriately.