Seven Princes (51 page)

The Boy-King’s white eyes shifted from speaker to speaker. He was clever this boy, clever enough to hear what everyone had to say before he would speak. Including his wise mother.

Khama spoke now. “I have looked southward, into the shadow
of what grows there – it is something terrible. Something from the Outer Worlds… Evil spirits are afoot in the night. Regardless of your decision regarding the alliance, Majesties, I ask permission to go south and confront this Elhathym. Iardu the Shaper and his protégée will accompany me. We will face the usurper before his own throne. It is our dearest hope to avoid the coming of war, whatever the cost. I give my family over to your shelter so that I may do this thing.
War
is the Great Destroyer that has been banished from our land for generations. It cannot be allowed to return.”

The Queen Mother spoke in whispers with her son, while those about the table sat mute. Iardu helped himself to the wine; Lyrilan dropped a fat grape into his mouth.

“The King gives you his blessing, Khama,” said Umbrala. “You are not an official servant of the court, therefore you may confront the usurper without any stain upon our honor. If you can do good in Yaskatha, then go.”

Khama turned to Iardu. The pair nodded.

“Yet linger a little while,” said Umbrala. “At the least you must dine with us tonight.”

Khama bowed his head. “We are most honored.”

Andoses spoke again. “Majesties, I beg you to hear the words of brave Prince D’zan. He has faced death and more to sit at this table.”

All eyes fell to D’zan, who sat uncomfortably in his chair. Sharadza liked him instantly. His eyes were blue, like Vireon’s, and his face was fair. His broad shoulders were impressive for a youth. His broad mouth was expressive, the lips of a well-spoken Prince. She found herself curious to hear what he had to say.

“I am… overwhelmed,” said D’zan, “by the support of my friends and allies in the north. We have crossed seas and mountains together… endured ice and fire… faced the horrors of sorcery and
the fangs of awful beasts. We have walked with death at our very backs, and many have perished on our journey. That I live at all is a miracle I owe to these four Princes.” His eyes turned to the Boy-King. “My father cherished the long peace he held with Mumbaza, as did his father before him. He once spoke of it as the brightest jewel in his crown. There were other wars, campaigns against the southern island nations, the war with Khyrei that happened well before I was born. But never did he speak of Mumbaza with anything other than love and great respect.

“I understand why you could not offer me sanctuary months ago. I bear no ill will toward you for that decision. When the throne of my father is once again mine, I will keep Mumbaza in my heart, along with the Northern Nations. A great philosopher once said, ‘War is failure.’ I believe that, Majesties. War is a failure of diplomacy and compassion to conquer fear and hate. It is the failure of peace-loving peoples to act in prevention of threats that grow in the world’s dark places.

“I pledge to you now that as long as I sit on the Throne of Yaskatha, there will be only peace between the five nations gathered here. Should Mumbaza refuse to join me against the usurper, that pledge of peace will still stand, both from myself and my descendants. But until Elhathym is deposed… until his blasphemous power is hidden from the Sun God’s eyes… until that day… the specter of War hangs over this kingdom like a shroud. I speak from my heart, and for the free people of Yaskatha.”

A silence fell upon the chamber. Sharadza turned to Iardu, whose smooth face was inscrutable. Vireon nodded his head in blatant approval of D’zan’s words. She could tell he favored the young Prince. Andoses sat with a half-smile, his eyes on the Boy-King. Tyro’s face was stone. Lyrilan ate another grape, mentally noting all the proceedings in the scholar’s detached way that was his nature. Alua sat with an expression of purest innocence next to
Vireon. She looked entirely out of place here, yet completely comfortable in the presence of her lover.

“Your words are moving,” said Queen Umbrala, “and the King values your friendship. Our goals are the same – eternal peace and prosperity for Mumbaza and all other nations – yet for now we can only send Wise Khama to Yaskatha… to do any more would violate that very peace of which you speak.”

Iardu sighed. D’zan looked at the table.

“Have you any word of good will from this usurper?” asked Andoses. “Any renewal of the treaty’s precepts, or even the smallest tribute to show his fidelity?”

“We have received no word from Elhathym,” said the Queen Mother.

“Have you sent emissaries to him?” asked Tyro.

“One,” she admitted. “He has yet to return.”

“So you have nothing but silence from this bloody-handed sorcerer,” said Andoses. “And you take that for peaceful intentions? Majesties, this is a gross error. The scorpion is most silent before it kills.”

“Silence can also heal,” said the Boy-King. All eyes turned now to his small round head with its glittering crown. “The Queen has spoken for me, and now I echo her words. We will not join this Alliance against Yaskatha unless Elhathym moves against us. Neither will we condemn or reject your offer. We will be wise and patient instead. We will
wait
… and we will see.”

“As you wish, Majesty,” said Andoses with an air of exhaustion. “I must be gone with all speed in the morning. The throne of Shar Dni sits empty until I am crowned. I regret that I cannot stay longer and attempt to sway your royal wisdom. The war against Khyrei will proceed. I hope that you will change your mind and join us before the coming of spring, when we march upon the city of Ianthe the Claw.”

“I go with you, Andoses,” said Vireon. “I have fulfilled my mother’s wish in coming to Mumbaza. Now vengeance calls me eastward, and I would bring you safely home, Cousin.”

Andoses stood and bowed. “I could never be safer than in your company, Vireon.”

“In the morning you three go east while we three go south,” said Khama. “What of the rest of you?”

Tyro and Lyrilan looked to D’zan.

“The time has also come for me to return to my homeland,” said D’zan. “I go south.”

Tyro slammed his fist against the table. “My brother and I go with you, Prince! We have a cohort of a hundred and fifty northmen to ride with us.”

“Take my hundred Sharrians as well,” said Andoses. “Vireon, Alua, and I require no escort. A group of three will travel much faster atop the Earth-Wall than a host of men.”

“So be it,” said Tyro.

“So be it,” said the Boy-King. “Now let us forget the perils of war and travel. We will feast tonight in honor of these assembled families before the sun shines on their parting.” His mother looked pleased at his fine words.

Sharadza would have preferred to leave immediately for Yaskatha. But Khama relished one more night with his family.
No harm in some rest now
, she decided.
We will need all our strength when we face the tyrant sorcerer
.

Already she smelled the roasting meats and sweet baked confections that would line the Boy-King’s table.

A night in Mumbaza
. She looked out an arched window at the crimson glow of sunset on the purple ocean.
It’s like some tale of heroes and maidens… some exotic legend from pages in father’s library
. Yet it was all too real.
Tonight will be splendor, tomorrow will be danger
.

She resolved to enjoy the splendors of Mumbaza while she could.

The feast ran late into the night, and Sharadza drank more than her share of wine. She drank with Andoses and Vireon, the first time she had done so. The Boy-King’s table was covered with delicacies from the sea, great swordfish roasted whole, carmine lobsters, and tentacled things in pools of creamy butter. Dancing girls performed for Undutu and his guests, followed by a match between two hulking Mumbazan wrestlers, and a fire-eater. The young monarch was much amused by all these diversions, while his mother sat reserved and attentive. A band of royal musicians played on silver-stringed instruments, oxhide drums, and a brace of woodwinds.

Vireon told Sharadza of his adventures in the Ice King’s realm, how he met Alua, and his battle against the Sea Serpent. Andoses augmented the latter tale, praising the heroic skill of his cousin and his matchless courage. Alua did not speak much, but when she did she talked of the northern forests and her travels in the land below the White Mountains. Sharadza found her sweet in the manner of a child, yet possessed of a subtle intelligence. When Vireon described her white flame, her learning of his language through sleep, and other strange things she had done, Sharadza knew Alua was far more than she appeared.

She is of the Old Breed. She has forgotten her origin, but still carries its power within her. She uses it naturally, as a child learns naturally to walk or swim. Perhaps Vireon is bringing out her true self, in the way that Iardu brought out my own… yet not that way at all. It could be that Alua will bring out Vireon’s heritage as well. The strength of Vod already flows in his veins; what other sorceries lie inside him, waiting for expression? The same as those that lie within me
. Alua was a good match for her brother. She was glad he had found someone to
replace his endless trysts with nameless girls from Udurum and Uurz. She had never seen him respond to anyone this way. He held Alua’s hand like his palm would ache without it. He looked into her ice-blue eyes like a man looking at the clouds and imagining his future. Their mother was correct. Vireon was in love.

Over brimming wine cups they shared memories of Tadarus and toasted his memory. And they drank to King Ammon, their lost uncle, and the rest of Andoses’ family one by one. Andoses shed a few quiet tears, but he wiped them away like flies buzzing around his goblet. He was a sturdy soul… as indestructible as Vireon in his own way.

After Khama’s family retired for the night, Khama returned alone to speak with Iardu in guarded whispers. The Shaper enjoyed the King’s wine, and none there drank more than he. Not even Andoses, who drowned his grief in a purple flood.

Vireon demanded to know where Sharadza had gone and why she had left their mother in such worry. As she explained her tutelage under Iardu, Tyro and Lyrilan peppered her with questions, most of which she could not answer. Prince D’zan listened as well, though he held his tongue. When he looked her way, his eyes sparkled like gold in the candlelight.

Vireon demanded evidence of her sorcery, as if he disbelieved her tale. Tyro joined him in calling for a show of her skill. This went on until she silenced them by transforming herself into a white wolf. She crouched on her hind legs in the feasting chair, staring at them with blood-red eyes, red tongue lolling between her fangs. Vireon laughed, half-drunk on Mumbazan wine, but the rest only stared in quiet awe. The Boy-King smiled and clapped to show his appreciation of her “trick.”

Iardu only frowned in her direction, and once again she became Sharadza.

“My dear sister, the sorceress!” bellowed Vireon, slapping the
table. Then he grew suddenly serious and raised his cup. “You are the Daughter of Vod, and you bear his power. To Vod’s Daughter!” They drank yet another toast, this time in
her
honor, while she blushed.

Several times she caught D’zan eyeing her, though he looked away every time.
How brave he must be to endure all that he has
. He was quiet and a bit mysterious.
I must speak with him
. Yet the feast ran on, and she never did get around to speaking with him. The torches guttered low on their tall mounts, and the Boy-King fell asleep in his tall chair. Servants carried him off to bed and Queen Umbrala followed, bidding good night to her guests. Soon after, Sharadza stumbled to her own quarters, realizing too late that she was not a skilled wine drinker at all. She had no time to admire the opulence of the guest chamber before she fell into slumber.

Nightmares swam up from the depths of the dreamworld to torment her. Clawed things rushed and fell, slithered past her on the waves of a dark sea. Serpentine beings slid beneath her as she walked across the glassy waves without sinking. A white hawk flew down to sit on her shoulder and whisper something in her ear. She could not understand the ancient words. The sea beneath her was not water at all, but
blood
… and people drowned in it… the black-skinned people of Mumbaza screamed and wept and sank. Dark beasts rose up from the blood-sea to rend them with claw and fang, to gnaw their bones. She screamed and tried to work sorcery, but the slaughter continued and the sea of blood refused to swallow her. At last a single massive claw rose to wrap around her waist, squeezing until her bones cracked. The talons sank into her flesh like swords. She awoke to the gentle prodding of a bald servant-girl with golden hoops in her ears.

The chamber’s windows were still dark; the moon had set, but the sun had not yet risen.

“The Queen Mother summons you to Council,” said the girl, her accent thick and melodic. “Right away…”

The servant waited for Sharadza to dress, then led her along a corridor she did not remember.
Too much wine. Never again
. As they walked, Tyro and Lyrilan joined them, also bleary-eyed. Then D’zan and Vireon, Khama and Iardu, and finally Andoses in his gleaming turban. All had been awakened. She guessed that less than an hour of night remained. It must be something urgent to summon them from their beds before even the dawn broke. Shards of nightmare swam in the back of her head like evil fish in muddy water.