Sacrifice: The First Book of the Fey (103 page)
Read Sacrifice: The First Book of the Fey Online
Authors: Kristine Kathryn Rusch
The barge was flat and undecorated. It floated in the center of Jahn Harbor, too far away from any shoreline for a successful attack by Islander or Fey. King Alexander had forbidden his people to watch from the streets, and Rugar had advised against his even coming to Jahn for fear of fights breaking out between the two groups. Still, he knew that Islanders watched from windows, and some Fey had taken over the abandoned warehouses from which Rugar had fought the initial attack. Everyone wanted to see the strange joining of a Fey and a nonmagickal being.
Only a handful of guests were allowed on this barge. Jewel had even insisted that the barge be jointly constructed—the first project completed by Fey and Islanders. Of course, the Fey had done most of the work, with the Islanders looking on to make certain there were no magickal traps (as if they could spot them), but the plan appeared to ease everyone’s mind. For now. Jewel’s truce with the Islanders seemed like a good idea, but Rugar didn’t think it practical. The Fey might trust this arrangement for a while, but then they would get impatient, especially the seasoned soldiers. Jewel had told Rugar that it was his duty to keep the Fey in line.
He would do his best.
King Alexander stood to the left of his son, Lord Stowe behind him. Both were wearing formal black robes, but the Prince wore a coat with long tails, and pants tucked into his boots. His hair hung freely too—he had decided to do that after Jewel had told him that for Fey, unbound hair meant a gift happily given. Rugar stood beside Jewel. She permitted no one else to attend her.
She also permitted no symbols of the religion to be hung on the barge. She had seen a worship sword as well as a bottle of poison in her Vision. She didn’t want them near her. If she could have prevented the Rocaanists from wearing their robes, she would have. There had been a moment of diplomatic crisis when the new Rocaan had refused to perform the ceremony, but somehow King Alexander had convinced him to do so anyway. Jewel had had to compromise on the clothes.
The Shaman stood beside the new Rocaan. She looked even older next to his blond youth. Her hair was white and it sprung off her head like weeds. Her face was wizened, her mouth a small oval amid wrinkles. Only her eyes were bright—sparkling, black circles of light in a dying face. She had said nothing about this union. She offered no suggestions for the ceremony; indeed, she had not even seemed surprised by the whole thing.
Jewel had used that as another example of the correctness of her position, but Rugar wasn’t so certain. He had spent all of his life thinking about Visions. The Shaman was less inclined than he was to interfere in a Vision’s course. She might have seen the moment. She might even know where it was heading. But she might not be willing to do anything to change the future. Her job was to provide sanctuary in the present.
Rugar had been on alert for nearly two hours waiting for the ceremony to start. It would be in two parts. The Fey part would go first. The Shaman and the new Rocaan had been talking for several minutes. Finally the Shaman clapped her hands.
“We are ready,” she said in Nye. “These children shall be watched by our Powers and your Roca. We shall appeal to the Powers first.”
The guests became silent. The new Rocaan stood to the side. Rugar took one step back so that he could watch the man.
The Shaman smiled at Jewel and the Prince. “Please join hands,” she said in Nye. They glanced at each other—shyly, it seemed—and then their hands entwined. Rugar let out the breath he had been holding. He remembered that moment of uncertainty from his first marriage.
Then the Shaman waved her wand over the couple’s heads. “The Powers will watch over you,” she said in Fey. “And your children shall be a credit to you. May you add to the Magick.” Then she smiled at them. “You may join your other hands.”
They had to face each other to do so. Rugar saw the Prince’s face clearly. His eyes were sparkling as he looked at Jewel. She had said the boy had been tender in her Vision. Maybe that part was right. Their other hands met.
“You have completed the circle,” the Shaman said. “You shall be One, always.”
Then she turned to the new Rocaan. He shook his head. King Alexander and Lord Stowe frowned. Apparently they didn’t understand that the Fey ceremony was done. But the Prince did. He kissed the backs of Jewel’s hands before turning to face the new Rocaan.
“It’s yours now,” the Shaman said in Nye to the new Rocaan. He glanced at the King, who shrugged. Rugar would have smiled if he hadn’t been so intent on this part of the ceremony. The religious Islanders were tricky, and this new Rocaan had a motive for revenge. If he brought out any water at all, Rugar would run to him and knock the water away from Jewel.
The new Rocaan was speaking in Islander. Rugar did not understand a word of it. He watched the new Rocaan’s hands move with the words. The man had thin fingers, magickal fingers. Perhaps the magick for the poison came from within the soul of the Rocaan and not from without. A few Fey had such abilities—Shape-Shifters, Shamans, Visionaries.
Then Jewel and the boy bowed their heads. The new Rocaan looked at Rugar. Rugar frowned, then remembered. He pulled the cloth Jewel had instructed him to bring from his breast pocket and placed it on her head. She had explained that it would protect her from the touch of the Rocaan, in case he had any poison residue on his fingers. Rugar was shaking. He stood so close to Jewel that he could feel the warmth of her skin.
Then the Rocaan put his hand on the cloth and on the Prince’s bare head and spoke again. This speech seemed to go on forever. Rugar stood at attention, his gaze focused on the new Rocaan’s hands.
But nothing happened. The new Rocaan took his hands away. Jewel removed the cloth and smiled at the Prince. He smiled back. He seemed to be feeling the same odd joy that Jewel was.
In Nye the new Rocaan said, “It is done.”
His tone made Rugar look at him. The new Rocaan was no happier about this than the rest of them. But Jewel didn’t seem to notice. She hugged her father. “We made it,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. They had made it through the treacheries of her first Vision. The Shaman stood beside him—he could smell her faintly cinnamon scent. Jewel put her arm through the Prince’s—Nicholas. Rugar would have to remember that since they had just become relations—and she spoke to the Islander King.
“We will have peace now,” the Shaman said in Fey.
Rugar gave her a startled look. She was watching Jewel laugh.
“This will work?” Rugar asked.
“Parts of it,” the Shaman said, her voice soft and raspy at the same time. “You always forget, Rugar, that children hold the key to the future. It is a place we travel ever so briefly, a place they will know intimately.”
A cool breeze had come up from the water. It ruffled his hair. “You’re telling me that Jewel made the right choice,” Rugar said.
The Shaman continued to follow Jewel’s movement through the barge. “Jewel made the only choice for peace. Would that you always do the same, Rugar.”
He straightened. “You forget yourself,” he said. “I am a warrior.”
“I forget nothing,” she said, and walked away from him, her white robes trailing on the wood. He bit back a curse. He always had such elliptical discussions with her, and he hated them.
The barge started moving back toward the harbor. Jewel and her new husband stood at the rail, watching the shore come up to meet them. She had decided to live in the Islander palace, the symbol of power on Blue Isle, she had reminded him. He had said nothing. He knew how much she wanted to be out of the Shadowlands.
She waved him over. Rugar took a deep breath and crossed the deck. He hated moments like this, moments after the wars ended, when the Fey and their former enemies had to coexist as best they could.
When he stopped beside her, she took his hand with her free one. Her fingers were warm, her grip tight. “We beat the Visions, Papa,” she said in Fey.
“Yes,” he said again. He could say no more. He didn’t want to spoil her obvious joy. They had defeated her Vision, but not his. He had always seen her walking through the halls of the Islander palace as if she owned it. Only he had thought they would come to that moment through a military victory, not through loss and treachery.
“We are sailing toward the future,” Nicholas said softly in Nye. His words were meant for Jewel, but Rugar heard them.
The future. The Shaman said it had no place for warriors.
Rugar wondered if she was right.
Kristine Kathryn Rusch, the former editor of
The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction
, has won a World Fantasy award and two Hugo awards for her work in science fiction and fantasy.
She has also won France’s most prestigious fantasy award, Le Prix Imaginales.
Her fantasy novels, including the stand-alone novels,
The White Mists of Power, Heart Readers,
and
Traitors
have won praise around the world.
She also writes science fiction.
Io9
has called the hero of her Retrieval Artist series one of the top ten science fiction detectives of all time.
Her mystery novels, published under the name Kris Nelscott, are classics of the genre.
And her romance novels, published under the name Kristine Grayson, are actually lightweight fantasy novels hiding in another genre.
To find out more about her work, go to kristinekathrynrusch.com.
To find out more about the Fey, go to thefeyseries.com.
