Lords of Rainbow (34 page)

Thus, she never got to see that the man with the sun-hair, who was Elasirr, began to laugh softly, and then, with a breath, submerged completely below the warm
mauve
waters of the pool.

When he resurfaced again, with an aggressive male splash, his blond hair was soft and plastered about his fine skull, and the waters rained down his perfect flesh like sweet drops of
mauve
honey.

They would meet again.

CHAPTER 12

R
anhé woke up to a hazy morning that perfectly expressed her mood. The previous night, she had returned to the Vaeste villa well after midnight, and collapsed in her room. The house had stood silent all around her as she crept back, and she never knew if the lord himself had returned from
Dirvan
.

The moon shone like the face of death upon her silk pillow. She lay for a long time in the silence, listening to her own breathing, feeling the weight of her still-wet braid on her neck, on her clammy flesh.

And now, the early grayness of morning was at the window. And with it a mist, seeping in from the silver outside, chilling her, pulling her out of bed.

Ranhé did not wait for a servant to knock upon her door. Her mind, awake like a sharp blade, and going over the events of the previous day, drove her with a fury.

Elas
.

Now she had to contend with two of them.

Who the hell was that man, that
other
, and why did he seem to know her while she had no idea who he was? Should she mention any of this matter to Elasand? Would it endanger him if she didn’t?

Ranhé was dressed and ready, and downstairs, well before the servants of the villa.

She was not alone.

Elasand Vaeste sat in the reception room downstairs, still wearing his formal outfit from yesterday. Pale, with circles under his eyes, his face gaunt—he turned to her with a tired expression.

“
My lord,” said Ranhé. And then she stopped. What else could she say to him, when she was thinking so much, so much.

Elas
. . . .

And then he smiled at her.

“
Ah, Ranhé,” he said very softly, speaking with a very light slur, “I am glad to see you. Glad. Did you have a good time? You must’ve, and I envy you. Believe me, you didn’t miss much. And luckily, I did not come in need of your services—unless you can count the lustful Her Grace herself, whose usual advances I had to beat off with every sharp spike of my wit, my logic, my reason! Damned woman.” And then he chuckled.

Ranhé looked at him silently.

“
Ah-h-h,” he sighed then, putting his hands to his temples. “The Regentrix had me on edge all evening. Had to beat ‘er off with a stick. Do you know I’ve just come back now? The Palace Gates had been locked for the night, and all of us guests were locked in. Whether we wanted to be or not. Hestiam is so paranoid, that he wanted to make sure no one would come or go without his consent after midnight.”

“
My lord, you should go and lie down now,” she said gently, and with a small measure of relief, a relief at she knew not what. “You are very tired.”

At which he again laughed. “Actually—I am very drunk.”

“
Then you probably need help. Let me call the servants.”

But he turned his eyes to her, soft, mellow, and just stared. She was the first to look away.

“
Do you know,” he said suddenly then, “that today is the Second Day of cousin Lixa’s Wedding? Yes, and the celebration goes on. My little cousin has officially bedded the Daqua, and is a real woman. Yes, a real woman, that is, if he was able to perform last night, after all that—that. Are
you
a real woman, Ranhé?”

At those words, she felt blood rising to her face. And she said nothing. Instead, she used the servant bell-pull to summon someone, anyone.

“
I am sorry,” he said meanwhile, looking at her sideways, his cheek resting against the palm of his hand, his eyes so beautiful and clear, despite his condition. “I am sorry that I am drunk. Didn’t plan for it to happen. Can you please make sure that I am awake by noon? I am making you, Ranhé, you—you—you, personally responsible that I am up and awake and dressed by noon, because we have an—an appointment with His Damn Grace.”

“
I will make sure of that,” said Ranhé softly, as servants came in to assist the Lord Vaeste, and he was all out of her hands.

She was thus resigned to an empty remainder of morning.

A
t half past one, with the sun brilliant over the City, the Lord Vaeste was escorted, together with Ranhé, into a small private audience chamber in the Palace, to meet with the Regent.

Elasand was still more than usually pale, but now well in control of his faculties, after having drunk several cups of strong black tea earlier in the Villa. Still, he was in a dark mood and had a sizable headache.

They were within an intricate chamber, all decorated in precious metals, that Hestiam preferred to use when privately receiving people. There were two large windows in the room, done in the arch style predominant in the rest of the Palace. The afternoon sunlight came oddly diffused into the chamber, over a mist gray cityscape low on the horizon, and a blinding clear silver sky toward the zenith.

Elasand immediately sat down on one of the sofas, while Ranhé remained standing. The servant left them alone, and went to fetch the Regent.

Within minutes, Hestiam Grelias sneaked into the room from a different tiny secret door in one of the walls, and Ranhé thought it was somewhat ridiculous of him to do that, considering how obscurely situated the chamber had been in the first place.

When Elasand saw the Regent, he arose tiredly, and inclined his head in a light bow. Hestiam looked quite hung-over himself after last night, with slitted eyes, and somewhat matted hair. His collar had been hastily buttoned one button over, leaving a silly gap, and one extra button at his throat.

“
I am extremely glad to see you, Elasand-re . . .” he muttered urgently, in a conspirational tone. And then he noticed Ranhé.

“
Your Grace,” said Elasand tiredly, “this is my aide and personal bodyguard. Please treat her like you would myself. All things may be spoken freely before her.”

Hestiam frowned, rubbed his forehead, staring for a moment at Ranhé’s trim figure in masculine attire. “A woman bodyguard? How piquant.” And then, equally tired, he promptly ignored her.

“
Now then,” said Hestiam. “What is it that you wanted to see me about, Elasand-re? Hurry up and out with it, because I have something of my own to discuss with you, something that is of vital importance.”

“
Actually, Your Grace, what I was planning to say can wait.”

“
Wonderful! Then listen,” said Hestiam, “I want your opinion on what you saw—last night. What you saw in Vorn.”

“
What did I see? Not much, except for the fact that he is definitely more than he lets on, and he sees, hears and understands more than is good for us. I noted his habit of silence, and also how he watches all, Your Grace and your sister.”

“
You saw him staring at Deileala too, didn’t you?” Hestiam smirked. “Too bad she was so occupied by yourself last night, or else she might have paid more attention to our guest, in her own matchless way. In this situation it would’ve come in handy.”

“
I remember this Lord Vorn mention how he wanted to see more of the City later. It was, I believe, the only thing of consequence—”

“
Oh gods, Elasand-re!” Hestiam interrupted, squinting. He then neared Elasand, and pulled him by the hand, sitting down on the sofa. He began to speak in a breathless whisper, meanwhile clutching Vaeste’s hand, “I am scared . . . I am very very scared, Elasand-re, what can we do? What is happening to us? He is planning something, something terrible, and I don’t think I can face it, or his lord, that nameless one . . . Oh gods! This City is doomed, we have no way to defend against any serious invasion, the Army is in shambles, the call for conscription would be too late to make any difference . . . Tronaelend-Lis will fall like we’re made of paper. And we will all die, I will die! My sister, my horrible sweet sister will die, and they will dance on our graves as they sack the City—”

“
I don’t know about the dancing part, but about the deaths, you might be right.”

Hestiam started like a rabbit. They glanced in the direction of the sound, and the new voice in the room.

Ranhé felt her stomach fall out from under her. She saw the man with the blond striking hair emerge from the same secret passage the Regent had used, and saunter into the room.

His hair shone like sun indeed now, in the light of day. And his eyes were lazy and half-lidded, wearing the same bored expression that she would now never forget. He wore a dark expensive outfit, and Ranhé grudgingly realized that he was not vermin at all, but rather—

“
How did you get in here?” muttered Hestiam, and yet he appeared not at all surprised to see this one. “I hate it when you do that, creeping up from my back, popping up anywhere. Have you followed me here all the way from my bedchamber?”

The man with the sun-hair grinned, somewhat insolently, and walked through the room, then proceeded to sit down quite unceremoniously on the sofa, right next to Lord Vaeste. With a lazy microscopic inclination of his head, he replied, “Ah, Your Grace. Not at all. I was merely in the neighborhood, and hearing your noble voice, decided to pay my respects.”

And then he turned to Vaeste and smiled lightly. “Well, did I miss anything vital? Your favorite word, I believe, Elasand-re, ‘vital.’ And yours too, Your Grace. Vital, vital, everything is always vital for you two. Begging Your pardon, of course, Your Grace.”

All through the exchange, Ranhé stood stiffly. She was absolutely ignored.

Elasand looked at the blond man coldly, tiredly, and also seemed not at all surprised at his presence here.

“
Why are you here, Elasirr?” Vaeste’s voice was faint, tinged with the strain of his headache.

“
Since you’re both here, I’ll continue then,” said Hestiam.

“
Deaths and dancing?” said Elasirr. “The topic, I believe.”

Hestiam frowned. “I am quite serious. And you ought to be also, since what is about to happen will affect your Guild as much as any one of us.”

“
My Guild is more prepared than anyone else in this City,” said Elasirr, crossing one elegant booted leg over another, leaning back against the soft pillows of the sofa.

Elasand meanwhile, was observing him silently.

“
I did not see you at the celebration yesterday,” said Hestiam, “or I would ask your opinion of the dark stranger also.”

“
I was otherwise—
preoccupied
.” Elasirr’s gaze slipped for an instant in the direction of Ranhé, and she thought she noticed the ghost of a smile.

So, he had seen her after all. Knew she was there.

But then the blond man continued. “Your Grace, my Lord Vaeste, I nevertheless have something of note to mention regarding our dark dangerous Vorn. Something rather intriguing.”

“
What?” said Hestiam, tensing.

“
Why, the fact that he, your oh-so-terrible one is somehow affected by
color
orblight.”

“
What do you mean?” said Vaeste.

“
I mean,” continued the blond, “he cringes. Yesterday, during the Wedding Ceremony, at Eroh’s Temple. Was anyone else besides myself
not
looking at the bride only? Though, lovely creature that she is, I admit—”

“
Stop,” said Elasand. “What did you see?”

Elasirr leaned forward to place his right elbow on his knee, and stared at the two men. His eyes, for an instant, lost the slitted narrow look, and sparkled like two pieces of silver, animated, alive.

“
I saw that Lord Vorn of Qurth has a weakness,” he said softly. “Something that must be studied and examined from all sides. Something that we could use to our advantage. And we don’t have a moment to lose.”

“
Are you saying that
color
light may distress him?” said Hestiam. “Possibly, he is just a barbarian that had never experienced
color
before, where he came from.”

“
No. It was not just distress. There was an aversion, a fear in him that I could see. A real fear. And there could be no fear of that kind in one such as himself, unless there’s also a known potential for harm. Something about
color
affects him. And maybe, it might affect the rest of his men.”

“
Were there any
color
orbs lit last night?” said Elasand.

Hestiam frowned, then tugged at his beard. “I actually don’t recall. There almost always are, you know. I love their bright exotic quality. But last night’s festivities were all Deileala’s doing, none of mine—Besides, Vorn again retired somewhat early, leaving me to better enjoy myself, thankfully—”

Elasand was growing more still with each passing moment. Ranhé noticed his breathing had become almost nonexistent, and he was deep in some kind of private contemplation.

“
What’s on your mind, my thoughtful Elasand-re?” said Elasirr, turning to him with mocking expectancy.