Realm of Light (29 page)

“For what he has
done, he cannot be forgiven.”

Lea frowned.
“Caelan, you must learn to forgive! Did today teach you nothing?”

“Stop pushing!”
Caelan snapped at her. “Why are you never satisfied?”

“Because you have
so much to learn.”

Elandra was amazed
to hear a grown man corrected by such a young girl, but she also knew that
wisdoms seldom looked their true age. Lea was a very old spirit indeed
inhabiting that lithe, youthful body.

Caelan hesitated,
still scowling at her, then abruptly caught her hands in his. “Come with us.”

She shook her
head. “Not yet.”

“When?”

“When it is time.”

Frustration filled
his face. “But how am I to know if you are well? How am I to be responsible for
you? How am I to take care of you?”

Lea reached up to
caress his cheek. “Look within your heart to know that I am well. But you have
much else to tend now, my brother. I am not your task.”

Then she turned
and held out her hand to Elandra. “And you, dear lady who loves my brother, you
also have much before you. Receive the blessing of the spirits to guide you on
your way.”

Surprised by the
benediction, Elandra inclined her head. “Thank you.”

“Good journey,”
Lea said. She drew a leather pouch from her saddlebag and handed it to Caelan. “This
is food so you will not have to hunt on the way.”

He took it in
silence, everything he could not say knotted in his face. Wordlessly he swept
her close and hugged her hard. “I cannot lose you again,” he whispered.

Lea closed her
eyes and hugged him back. “You never will,” she promised. “I will come. If the
gods are kind, I promise you I will come.”

Then she pulled
away from him, tears shimmering in her eyes. She curtsied to Elandra and
climbed back on her pony. With one last silent wave, she rode away.

Since then, Caelan
had been quiet and preoccupied. At night in camp, sitting together by the
flickering campfire and listening to the strange sounds of unfamiliar plains
and marshlands, he had little to say. Perhaps he did not want to speak of his
plans while he could be overheard by the Thyzarenes. Perhaps something else
troubled him. Elandra kept her own counsel and let him be. As long as his arms
held her through the night, she knew all would be well.

And now, with the
wind whipping her cheeks and sending locks of her hair streaming out behind
her, she looked down and saw the thick jungles of home.

Her heart lifted
with joy. Suddenly she felt invincible, incapable of doubt or failure.

She pointed.
“Look! There is the river.”

Bwend nodded and
nudged Nia with his left foot. The dragon wheeled lazily and turned toward the
river. It was overflowing its banks this time of year, fat with monsoon rains,
flooding the paddies and sweeping away humble villages. In places it spread all
the way into the edge of the jungle, and lay there among the trees, stagnant
and stinking with great clouds of flies rising off its surface.

The dragons did
not drop altitude, and soon Elandra understood why as they came to mountains.
Clouds mounded over the peaks, pouring rain on the near slopes. The water
pelted Elandra hard, making her draw up her hood and shiver.

She didn’t really
care, however. The ripe, earthy scent of the jungle lifted to her nostrils, and
she gloried in its untamable savagery.

Now they did drop
lower, coming close enough in places for her to see the colorful birds and wild
parrots that lived in the tree-tops. Screaming monkeys fled before them, surely
fearing the great predator dragons that flew overhead.

Part of the
mountain slope stood bare where trees had long ago been hacked down. Ancient
stone ruins revealed themselves, bizarre faces carved on an immense scale and
worn by time. Vines twisted over them, and from the darkness of a cave mouth
there appeared to be a group of wild
jinjas
huddled together. They
vanished before Elandra could be sure, but she found her heart beating fast
with excitement just the same.

So this was where
jinjas
came from. These old temples of the ancient ways. The traders who
brought young
jinjas
to the sorcery markets guarded their secrets
jealously, telling no one where they captured their wares. Elandra smiled to
herself. She must have a
jinja
of her own, one bonded to her. Perhaps
Caelan would accept one for his own protection too.

“That way!” she
shouted at Bwend, pointing.

He nodded, looking
insulted by her directions. Elandra was too excited to care. When she left her
father’s palace over a year ago, she thought she would never return. Her
memories had not all been good ones, but how she missed the sights and smells,
the heat, the lazy afternoons when nothing moved but the fans to stir the air;
yes, she even missed the dreadful muxa bugs.

Laughing aloud,
she glanced over at Caelan and saw him watching her. She waved at him, and he
smiled.

Ahead, the jungle
thinned out and ended. Lush fields of flax, rice, and aotta beans stood in
water. The rain ended, and Elandra threw back her hood. How moist and heavy the
air felt. She could feel her skin absorbing it. Her hair began to curl and riot
about her face.

A break in the
clouds allowed a luminescent shaft of sunlight to spear down to earth. And
there stood the gleaming white limestone walls of Albain palace, as solid and
safe as ever. Eagerly Elandra leaned low over Nia’s neck, hoping she would fly
faster.

Instead the dragon
slowed and began to circle.

Disappointed,
Elandra snapped her head around to look into Bwend’s impassive face. “Why don’t
we keep going? Why do you circle here?”

He met her eyes,
but said nothing. Catching up, Basha also began to circle. The Thyzarenes
exchanged looks and hand signals.

Suspicion grew
inside Elandra. Had they come this far, only to be tricked at the last moment?
Caelan was peering down at the ground, and she could not catch his attention.
She fingered her knife, vowing she would not be held for ransom like some
helpless captive.

“Bwend,” she said
sharply, “remember I am your empress.”

Nia bugled, and
Basha echoed the sound. The dragons flew closer, then circled again, staying
high.

Elandra gripped
the harness so hard her knuckles turned white. She was furious at this delay.
What was Bwend doing? Tormenting her? She could see her father’s sentries
gesturing. More troops came running. Some were archers. When they lifted their
drawn bows, aiming at the dragons, she sat up straight on Nia’s back and
glanced again at Bwend.

“Yes, Majesty,” he
said, his voice dry. “If we come in too fast, they shoot us like birds for
eating. You would not like to hit the ground that hard, eh?”

Elandra swallowed
and felt ashamed of her previous suspicions.

They circled the
palace again, staying out of arrow range. She could see the famous steps
reaching from the broad courtyard up to the portico of the palace itself. Her
father’s banners of yellow and white flew proudly. She saw no imperial coat of
arms, however, and wondered why her father had struck her banner.

The people of the
household crowded onto the balconies, pointing upward. Soldiers poured from the
barracks. More archers appeared.

Elandra frowned at
them, wanting to shout a reprimand. After all she had gone through to get here,
were they even going to let her land?

Bwend pulled a
dirty white rag from his pouch and let it stream out for the soldiers to see.

The men changed
formation, clearing a large space in the courtyard.

“This dangerous,”
Bwend said in her ear. “No flag to show imperial business. No reason to come.”

She held her
breath and gripped the harness strap more tightly. “I am ready.”

Nia dropped in a
plummet that left Elandra’s stomach floating somewhere among the clouds. The
watery sunlight vanished as the clouds closed again. Grimly, she realized she
must look like a wild woman, arriving windblown in this bizarre fashion. She
had no veil, no suitable gowns, no entourage. If her father was not at home,
would anyone even recognize her?

Just as this doubt
occurred to her, Nia bumped down and staggered forward a few steps on her
awkward legs. Beating her wings, the dragon stretched her neck and roared
loudly enough to make the troops back up. Then Basha landed, snapping his jaws
and shaking the singed remnants of his beard. He roared and lashed his tail,
and Caelan slid off his back hastily.

At once, Fotel
spoke a command and Basha lifted back into the air, smoking and grumbling as he
went.

Caelan took a
moment to adjust his sword belt, then he straightened himself to military
posture and swept the silent Gial-tan soldiers with a single, appraising
glance. The sight of them did not appear to daunt him at all.

Elandra’s heart
swelled with pride in him. Not a single man in this compound was Caelan’s
physical equal. He stood head and shoulders above them all. This morning he
wore his long blond hair braided back warrior style, and his bronzed, chiseled
face looked stern and handsome. His blue eyes were hard and observant. He would
miss nothing, she knew. He was evaluating their silent reception, gauging the
possible dangers.

Wisely, Elandra
curbed her own impulse to jump off the dragon and go running up the steps. She
recalled the day she had left this palace in Bixia’s wake. The soldiers had
cheered her that day. But they stood silent and hostile now.

She turned to
Bwend, whose eyes shifted constantly as though he expected to be attacked at
any moment. “I owe you my thanks,” she said. “Never again will I doubt the
loyalty of a man of Thyzarene.”

Bwend’s gaze met
hers. For an instant he smiled. “Never before have I met an empress,” he
replied. “But my service is yours to command whenever there is need.”

She smiled, and
his eyes softened.

“If you will wait
while I make greetings to my father, I will see that you are rewarded—”

“No, Majesty,” he
said firmly. “No reward.”

She frowned in
dismay. “But I promised—”

“No, Majesty. I
have my reward.”

She couldn’t
believe a Thyzarene was actually turning down money. “But—”

He gave her a shy
little bow of his head. “This empress has smiled to me as a friend. This
empress has spoken to me kindly as an equal. This empress has ridden the winds
without fear. Surely this empress is worthy, and I serve her as a citizen of
the empire.”

She smiled and
touched his gnarled hand briefly. “You are a good man, Bwend. When the empire
is once again secure, will you and Nia come to Imperia? I would see a better
relationship established with your people.”

He looked
startled. “Perhaps.”

“Majesty,” Caelan
said, breaking in.

She glanced around
to see him standing at her knee. He held out his hand to assist her down. His
touch was formal and impersonal. He was wearing his most remote expression.

It was to help
her, she knew, for as yet the men staring at her had no idea of who she was.
Yet she refused to take what he offered.

Staring up at him,
she said softly for his ears alone, “You stubborn, impossible man. All those
times when I tried to get you to act as my official protector, you would not.
Now, when I want you to enter my father’s house as my equal, you retreat to my
heels.”

Caelan’s blue eyes
met hers. “Will it not help?”

“It might, but my
father always said a person should begin in the manner he intended to continue.
Kostimon’s empire is ended. Let us begin the way we shall go on.”

A very thin smile
touched Caelan’s lips and spread up into his eyes. He inclined his head to her,
and when she extended her hand to him, he lifted it to his lips, then held it
fast.

From their left,
an officer in a turban and a long yellow and white surcoat worn over mail came
striding up, spurs jingling, one hand gripping the hilt of his scimitar.

The dragon lifted
her head and bugled at Basha, who was circling safely overhead.

Elandra turned
back to Bwend. “I wish to thank Nia too,” she said. “Will she let me pet her?”

Bwend frowned but
gave her a curt nod. He spoke a sharp command to the dragon, who lowered her
head and turned her iridescent eyes warily on Elandra.

Elandra held out
her hand, palm up, and felt the hot, smoky breath of the dragon blow across her
skin. “Thank you for carrying me so far and so swiftly,” she said to the beast.
“You are a good dragon.”

Nia grumbled,
clearly not having forgotten that Elandra had mesmerized her. Carefully Elandra
reached up and scratched under the dragon’s chin as she had seen Bwend do.

The dragon snorted
in surprise, then stretched out her chin for more, half closing her eyes.

Bwend, looking
jealous, spoke sharply, and the dragon drew back her head. She roared, sending
men stumbling back, and beat her wings in a strong flurry. Her body lifted
until her wings found the wind currents. Then she soared. She and Basha circled
overhead once more, then flew away.

Elandra watched
them go until Caelan’s tug on her hand brought her attention back to earth.

She found herself
facing the stern visage of General Alud Handar. There was no recognition in his
eyes. His gaze swept over Caelan’s imperial armor and sword, then returned to
Elandra.

He had never seen
her unveiled. And while the money-loving Thyzarenes recognized her from her
coinage portrait, Handar clearly did not. She realized her hair was unbound and
wild. Her gown was creased and stained from travel. Moreover, she was roasting
in her wool cloak and probably stank like dragon.

But to be taken
for a lady meant one had to act like a lady. To show doubt and hesitation was
to awaken it in others.