Land of Night (17 page)

There was little he could say to that, yet Liall was glad for his brother. Cestimir would have no period of short-lived bliss after he ascended the throne. No aborted happiness destroyed in bits and pieces by the slow, dawning knowledge of what it truly meant to rule. He was going into kingship with his eyes open. “I am sorry."

Cestimir waved that away. “Not every eye will shed tears for me. Poor lad, he must stop his whining and become a king.” Cestimir laughed and touched Liall's arm. “I will be fine, Nazheradei."

"I think you will be,” Liall said honestly.

"I will. But be assured, Nazheradei ... if I do ascend the throne, I will not be the ruler that my mother is. She wanted progress and change in her rule. I want only what was once ours. In this, Vladei and I are very much alike. We differ only in the times we wish our people to return to. Vladei longs for the days when we fired on foreign ships that were sighted closer than Sul-na. I don't want that. I want a return to the age when we feared no one and nothing, least of all the color of a man's skin."

Liall stared at Cestimir for a long moment. “Spoken like a king,” he murmured.

"Or perhaps a fool,” Cestimir said, grinning suddenly. “I would not be the first king who was more charmed by an idyllic past I had never lived than by a present I found myself trapped in. You must lesson me against false nostalgia."

Liall linked his arm with Cestimir's, liking the boy greatly. “Come. It grows late and there is an interminably boring day ahead of us tomorrow. I will see you to your room."

As it turned out, Liall was not able to seek his bed just yet. Baron Ressanda was waiting for him in an alcove not far from Liall's apartments. The Baron was alone, his daughter presumably retired, and he had come without guards, a matter which did not escape Liall's notice.

"Ser,” Liall greeted casually.

Ressanda bowed deeply. “Blood Prince,” he said, his voice weighted heavy with foreboding. “I come on a grave matter."

"Oh?” Liall looked up and down the hall meaningfully. They were empty, and Ressanda and he were alone.

Ressanda touched his ear with a fingertip. “Even stone walls can hear,” he quoted. Liall took his meaning and turned on his heel. Ressanda followed. There was a room not twenty paces from the apartments, a small salon that Liall had searched thoroughly the night before. It was safe as any room could be in a palace.

Ressanda stood watch by the door as Liall found a lamp and struck a spark for its wick. Blue light flickered around the room as he settled the glass over the flame, then motioned for Ressanda to come forward. Liall found a chair and pulled it up to the small table. This was a bare room with only a little furniture and no ornament, no tapestries or paintings, nothing to hide behind. With a final, suspicious look at the room's contents, Ressanda sighed and heaved his bulk into the single remaining chair. It creaked under his weight and the wooden legs popped and groaned before submitting to support him. Ressanda put his elbows on the table and folded his arms.

"There is a matter,” Ressanda said. “I would have brought it to you before, but I was not sure of you yet."

"And now you are?"

The Baron held up a hand. “Not so quickly, my prince. I may be reassured, but I am not totally reconciled with your return. I knew Nadei from the time he was a boy."

Liall felt his teeth wanting to clench. “Then you knew how he naive was, how delicate his pride and how easily he could be lead, or insulted."

Ressanda nodded, his ruddy hair tumbling across his forehead. “I did, but he was still my prince. That he would have made a poor king does not excuse you."

Liall bowed his head. “No. It does not."

He was surprised to feel Ressanda's hand on his arm. “But there is nothing you can do to recall that. What's done is done, and we are here and Nadei is burned to ashes, and whatever future he would have taken us to is dust. Now we must look to you to carve a new future."

"Not to me,” Liall argued. “Cestimir—"

"Is a boy, still,” he finished. “I, for one, believe you when you say you will turn the throne over to him in swift manner, but many do not. Not truly. Yet ... they are content to have their prince back, disgraced or otherwise. It is enough, after so many years of uncertainty, to have a strong man of the pure blood to look to. Vladei!” Ressanda said the name with loathing. “There is not one man of honor in all of Rshan who would back him, but we both know that honorable men have never been in the majority."

"So he has followers,” Liall said slowly. “More than I have been led to believe."

Ressanda nodded. “Much more, though they are gathered to the north. We all saw Khatai Jarek and her army leave the Nauhinir, but we were told she was headed south. Now my spies tell me different.” He leaned a little forward. “Is this true? Has she gone north to clean out the rat's nest?"

Liall knew how much was riding on his reply, and what a mistake it would be if he misread Ressanda.

True, he thought. The army belongs solely to the queen and she may aim it where she will, but if word gets loose that fighting has broken out and none of the nobles are notified, there will be a bloodbath within the court. “You ask a lot of me when you ask for my trust."

"Then take this as proof of my trust,” Ressanda said at once. They understood one another. “I am not of the pure blood. That is easy to see, with my red hair and my uncouth body. I am not a pale-haired and elegant Druz prince, but I did manage to marry a woman who is: Winotheri."

The name was known to Liall. “My cousin,” he said in surprise. Many things had changed in his absence. He had not even known they were kinsmen. “I did not know."

Ressanda patted Liall's arm brusquely before withdrawing. “And as Winotheri is an only child, my daughter, Ressilka, inherits her titles, which includes the name of Druz. She, like you and Cestimir, is a vanishing breed. How many Druz are left now? Seven? Eight if you count that rag-tag second cousin of yours who went seafaring. And Ressilka's youth and unmarried status—not to mention her wealth—make her a very valuable commodity."

This was too rough-spoken, even for a man like Ressanda. “You daughter is not a cow at market, ser."

"That is exactly what she is!” Ressanda snapped. He took a deep breath. Snow hissed against the window in the silence. “And she knows it,” he added, much calmer. “She is a prince in her own right, a great woman already. I would not see her given to a dog of a man who snarls for scraps at a royal table he has not earned a place at by deed or character."

Vladei. “Ah. And has such a dog been sniffing around your daughter?"

"He has,” Ressanda growled. “But he shall not have her. I am saving her for another."

"Cestimir."

"No other is worthy of her,” he said grudgingly, as if he privately thought that not even Cestimir would do. “When you returned, I had hoped, just for a moment..."

Liall sat back. “My heart is elsewhere,” he said. “And even were it not, I would saddle no child of mine with a crown. But I am flattered,” he added. He meant it as a courtesy only, but when Liall said it, he found it to be true. The girl was obviously Ressanda's jewel and he had meant, however fleetingly, for Liall to have her.

The Baron nodded, unsurprised. “Well, I heard as much. But a man always hopes, yes? Anyway, I wanted you to know my will; that if Vladei sues for leave of any queen or regent or prince the right to wed my daughter, and wins it, I will take it as a mortal offense."

So that was it. By ancestral right, a Druz married only at the pleasure of the queen, whomever she chose, whenever she chose. However possessive his words may have sounded, Ressanda had no legal choice in whom Ressilka married, though he could always rebel and face the consequences.

"Royal blood and royal name are too precious to bestow lightly,” Liall said carefully, wanting time to think.

"My daughter is too precious to bestow lightly,” Ressanda said meaningfully. “Not even as the scrap that will keep the wolf from seeking blood."

Liall was silent for several moments, pondering. Not for a moment did he believe that Ressanda meant him when he said wolf. It was true that Ressilka would be a powerful foil to calm Vladei should he lose his bid for the crown, which he would if Liall had his will. A Druz prince as his wife would insure that Vladei's future generations, at some point through marriage, would sit on the throne of Rshan. If Vladei himself could not be king, at least his granddaughter might rule at the side of one of Cestimir's heirs. Ressanda had good reason to fear.

But those assumptions were made upon a guess that Vladei would be content with his heirs inheriting power and nothing for himself. It was logic, made upon the premise that Vladei was a logical man. Liall knew that Vladei was not.

Liall pushed back the chair and rose. Startled, Ressanda, got to his feet as well.

"Fear not,” Liall said before the man could speak. “Vladei will not have your daughter."

"How—"

"Ask me nothing,” Liall said curtly, and the Baron closed his mouth. Liall put his hand on Ressanda's shoulder and pressed it, hoping Ressanda could find the strength to trust him. “I can only give you my promise; Ressilka shall belong to Cestimir, or she shall belong to no man."

Liall saw that Ressanda did not know how to interpret that. Outwardly, the Baron was not a subtle man and perhaps he thought Liall was being cryptic, yet the promise must be enough for him. Ressanda's eyes grew stony and Liall saw that he realized which way the prince's thoughts must run.

"So even she would not be enough for Vladei,” Ressanda said slowly. “Very well, my prince. My lot is now cast with yours, and if you should fail, we must fall as well."

"There is a way out of it for you,” Liall said gently, for he did not wish Ressanda to lose hope.

The baron shook his head. “We cannot all be as brave as you, to accept exile in unknown lands, for that is how far we would have to go to escape him. No, I'm afraid that death would be a much more welcoming embrace."

Ressanda left without another word or glance at Liall, which somehow was worse. Though it had been there from the moment they landed on Rshan, Liall felt keenly the heaviness Ressanda had placed on him. If Cestimir failed to win the throne, Vladei would still seek to have the boy murdered. Once in power, Vladei would never tolerate such a threat to exist. Cestimir would be forced to flee or fight, and he would never run. Conversely, if Vladei failed, he would not rest until power was his. Civil war was looming on the horizon.

His shoulders slumped under the new burden, Liall put out the lamp and went to seek his bed. Scarlet was already asleep, his eyes closed so peacefully that Liall could not bear to wake him. Through the window, the blue morning twilight looked the same as evening twilight and every other hour of the day.

It is beautiful here, Liall thought suddenly, wondering when he had forgotten that. He had forgotten what it was to wake and part the gauzy bed-curtains and see snowflakes cascading past a gilded window in the half-light of the Rshan winter, with the bright stars wheeling in a sky the color of faded indigo.

It is wondrous pleasant to sleep with the smell of incense and flowers in your nose, he thought, to feel silk against your skin and open your eyes to blue lamps cut from a crystal that only grows in your homeland.

Scarlet slept deeply, one hand curled under his cheek and his dark eyelashes like frayed silk on his cheeks. Liall looked at him for a long time, standing by the bed, marveling at how a chance meeting on a mountain road could have brought them together here, and terribly alarmed at how strongly he felt the sudden urge to send Scarlet away.

Yes, there was beauty here, but every instinct Liall had was telling him that what he found the most beautiful was in serious peril. His heart said that he should send Scarlet packing before Fate grew tired of Liall's flirtation with disaster or his enemies grew luckier. The pirate attack had been a warning. It had shown him that Scarlet could innocently be caught in the crossfire of kings and be killed for it. One misstep: that is all it would take. A poisoned cup, a dagger in the night, a broken neck on icy steps, and Scarlet would be gone. Liall's hard heart, so long unmoved by anything but regret and guilt, would again turn to stone.

The scene played itself in his mind; Scarlet on the blood-soaked deck of the Ostre Sul, ducking under the Minh's sword, only this time he moved too slowly and the blade caught him under the chin and that beautiful face vanished in a spray of red. Scarlet's black eyes would be open when Liall found him, still caught in an expression of endless surprise and accusation at how Liall had failed him.

Send him away,
the wise part of him whispered.

Liall undressed and crawled silently into bed, not wanting to wake Scarlet. When I wake in the morning, Liall told himself stoutly, I will feel better and be more optimistic. There is no need to send him away.

He would realize later that it was, as in Volkovoi, pure selfishness that made him forget any thought of sending Scarlet away from the Nauhinir. With Scarlet, his blood had come to life again. His heart was not a lump of cold seeping into his veins.

I want him with me.

It was decision he would have cause to regret within a day.

"Kaya hast kyen min fer s'ctath!"
Liall swore, his voice rising.

"Same to you,” Scarlet quipped, not at all impressed with Liall's anger. He sat up in the bed and moved a little away from the prince. “And I'm still going. You said I could."

"Scarlet, a bear hunt is not like fishing for trout. Bears bite back!"

"I'm going. Try and stop me and you'll regret it."

It was two days since they had quarreled. The morning of the bear hunt had come and Liall still had not been able to convince Scarlet to stay behind. Liall had mentioned it gently when they awoke, cajoling Scarlet with caresses and soft words to do as he asked. When that had not worked, the words had become more forceful and Liall had grown exasperated.

Liall opened the bed-curtains and swung his legs over the side of the bed before stomping naked into the privy. The servants turned and bowed politely as he passed, and he heard Scarlet utter a Bizye curse and throw the covers aside. Typical of Hilurin, it annoyed Scarlet when others saw Liall's body.