The Dead God's Due (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 1) (6 page)

The woman dove for the blade,
and Ahmed kicked her in the face. She staggered, blood pouring from
her nose and mouth, but she did not turn aside. Her small hands
closed on the hilt, and swung it full force toward her opponent.

Ahmed parried her attacks,
nodding, grinning. “Fight harder!”

The crowd was deathly silent
now as the naked woman hurled herself at the Xanthian. She was no
warrior, nor was she hard of body, yet her muscles obeyed her will.
Her shame was gone now. Blow after blow she hurled at Ahmed,
screaming in defiance and hatred for all that she had endured.
If
sheer will could kill a man
,
I
would already be dead
.

“Enough!” he
shouted. “I yield!”

The woman seemed not to hear
him. She continued swinging, and he continued parrying, until the
message in her eyes and ears at last reached her mind. She backed
slowly away, chest heaving, spittle dripping from her lips, fury
blazing in her eyes.

Ahmed tossed the key ring to
the ground in front of her and mounted his horse. He waved at Marcus
and Tyler, then snapped the reigns and sent the horse over the side
of the platform. The crowd moved quickly to clear a path for him.

Ahmed sent his horse galloping
down the beach as the slaver began to scream.

Yazid was staring out over the
waves patiently. He waved as Ahmed approached, and stared at him in
silence for long moments. “Do you see, now?”

Ahmed nodded. “The
barbarians trade other barbarians like beasts.”

“And what do you think of
such things?”

Ahmed shrugged. “I think
little of cowards.”

Yazid’s eyes narrowed in
suspicion. “I have seen this too-innocent look on your face
many times, boy. I am no fool. You have done more than observe. What
trouble have you been up to?”

Ahmed pursed his lips and
shrugged again. “I put some of them to the test.”

Yazid glared at him a moment,
then shook his head in amusement, a broad smile on his face. “Then
we should be off. The barbarians will be after us for violating
their law, and they will come in numbers, for they fear us greatly.”

“Aye, no doubt it is
true.”

“One question, boy. Do
you understand now why I said ‘usually’?”

“I think so. Some of the
barbarians do not like selling men as beasts. The nations squabble
amongst themselves over it, yes?”

“Indeed. There is
bloodshed from time to time, some covert forces with deniability.
There will be war proper over it soon enough, mark my words.”

“And Xanthia? Where would
we stand?”

“In Jacynth, I suspect,
while the rest focus here.”

Ahmed laughed out loud. “Then
may the barbarians go to war soon!”

“Aye. But enough talk.
Let’s board our ship and be off before the barbarians clap us
in irons.”

The library in the ancestral
home of House Amrath was one of the most revered locations in all of
Nihlos, second only to Tasinal’s courtroom, and perhaps not
even to that. Amrath had written his great book and many of his most
moving treatises in this very room. Here, behind the great oaken
desk, Amrath had put quill to parchment and created the law. Here,
before the enormous stone fireplace, Amrath had held forth to the
other founders on philosophy, no doubt shaking his fist and shouting
with a passion that was legend as he hammered home his arguments.

Unlike the courtroom, the
library was no huge edifice, merely a comfortable room where the
Great Father had found inspiration and, on occasion, peace. The
floor was smooth marble, the walls lined with shelves of black,
polished wood, each holding books of inestimable value, some
hundreds of years old. There was no room for ornamentation on the
walls, nor even sconces: all of the space was for the books.

Aiul rose from the couch and
stared in silence at the lifelike statue of his ancestor, Amrath, a
man he thought of as having been like unto a god, and bowed his head
in respect. “Great Father,” he said softly, “Before
I tell the others, I would tell you.” He bent toward the
statue and whispered in its ear, then stepped back and smiled,
imagining he saw the emerald eyes twinkling with pleasure at the
news.

“Fair enough,”
called a familiar, aged voice. “But wait not too long, boy.
Some of us will be with him before long, and he will deprive you of
the chance to tell us first, you know!”

Aiul turned quickly to the
library’s entrance, his smile broadening into a grin.
“Maranath!”

The ancient fellow stood framed
by the entryway, his head almost touching the lintel as he pushed
one of the heavy, oaken doors open. He smiled broadly beneath his
wild, white beard and stepped slowly into the room. At his age, his
once formidable height worked against him, making balance difficult.
He leaned heavily on his cane as he entered, watching his feet
carefully so as not to trip over his long, brown robe. “And
friend,” he added, chuckling.

A woman, as old as Maranath but
spry and tiny like a doll, pushed open the remaining door and
entered behind him. She wore flowing silks that made her look as if
she might blow away in a strong breeze, and a huge ruby about her
neck that might well have been an anchor against just such an
occurrence.

Aiul’s grin grew even
broader. “Ariano! I am honored, indeed!”

“You honor us, child,”
she replied, her voice strong and smooth, betraying not even a hint
of her age. The pair regarded him for a moment with eyes that seemed
far too young and full of life for their wrinkled faces.

“Well?” Maranath
asked. “Out with it! I’m tired of pretending that I have
no idea what you intend to say.”

Ariano punched him in the arm.
“Impatient goat! He’s waiting for his mother.”

“Is he, now?”
Maranath chuckled and flashed her a knowing grin. “I think he
won’t have to wait long.”

Ariano glared pointedly at her
companion for a moment, then turned back to Aiul, her face sweet and
gentle once again, and mock-whispered, “He’s always in a
hurry these days. Not much time left, you know!”

“It’s hardly a new
thing,” Maranath sighed. “It is a curse of the blood.
Aswan himself was the very icon of impatience.”

Ariano tittered. “Oh,
don’t blame Aswan for your failings!”

“I’ve shown
remarkable patience in the past, I’ll have you know.”

Ariano patted his face gently
and nodded agreement. “That you have, Maranath.”

“Won’t you have a
seat?” Aiul invited the pair. “I’m sure Mother
will be along any moment, and it’s just us four. It’s
the sort of news that family should hear first.”

Ariano blushed, and Maranath
cleared his throat, embarrassed. “It is kind of you to call us
such, child,” Ariano said. She took Maranath’s arm and
the two walked slowly to the plush couch in front of the fireplace.
Maranath grimaced and winced as he lowered himself to a sitting
position, then sighed with relief.

Aiul was just about to offer
them a drink when he heard the sound of footsteps in the foyer.
Moments later, Narelki, Matriarch of House Amrath stood in the
doorway, an expression of slight annoyance on her normally serene
face. She wore a simple, form fitting dress of white silk, and no
jewelry at all.
She is perpetually severe
.
To
Aiul, she seemed more sculpture than woman, a female
counterpoint to the statue of Amrath: noble, aquiline face of
whitest alabaster, with high, chiseled cheeks and pointed chin; fine
hair of spun gold, not a strand out of place; narrowed, cold eyes of
pale, blue sapphire; thin, pressed, disapproving lips carved of
ruby.

Her heart, he knew, was made of
stone, so why not the rest of her?

Narelki raised an eyebrow as
she surveyed the room. “I see we have guests.”

Aiul flashed his most charming,
confident smile at his mother. “Indeed we do. I invited them
to hear my news.”

“And welcome the two of
you are in my humble abode,” she said, nodding to the two
elders. “As for me, I feel more summoned than invited, but as
our Great Father told us, feelings have little to do with reality.”

“It is good to see you,
child,” Ariano offered.

Narelki seemed to soften just
the tiniest fraction at this. “It is good to see the both of
you, as well. It has been some time, hasn’t it?”

“You are young,”
Ariano said. “You have responsibilities. We understand.”

Maranath rolled his eyes as if
to say, “Speak for yourself,” and Aiul struggled not to
laugh out loud. He, too, suspected Narelki’s sudden grace was
more out of decorum than any real sense of ease or reunion, but he
would take what he could get.

Obviously, no one was going to
be surprised by his news, but it was time to make it official.
“Well, you’re all anxious to hear my ‘secret’,
so I’ll go straight at it. The test was positive. Lara is
pregnant! I am to be a father, and Great Father Amrath’s line
moves forward once again.”

Ariano clapped her hands
together and grinned like a child before a birthday cake, and
Maranath rose with uncharacteristic speed to clap a hand Against
Aiul’s back. “Well done, boy! Well done indeed!”
He gave an exaggerated wink and chuckled, “We knew, of course.
What else could it be? But it’s good to hear it from your
lips. Congratulations!”

“It’s wonderful
news, Aiul!” Ariano said. “I simply
must
do something to commemorate the occasion.” She clasped her
hands together and tilted here head, a look of pure bliss on her
face, her eyes widening and seeming to lose focus as she considered.
“A song? A sculpture? A painting, perhaps, of you and Lara. I
have some techniques I’ve been wanting to try. Or a mosaic!”
She was more excited now. “Yes! I could do something grand on
one of the walls in your new home! Have you any ideas on where you
will live?”

“I do indeed,” Aiul
answered. “I think a top level suite in the Cradle of Nihlos
would be appropriate.”

“Oh, my, yes,”
Ariano agreed. “But you will need more than money for that.
You will need influence as well. It’s quite a difficult thing
to arrange for most.”

Aiul nodded, beaming. “So
it is. Fortunately, I know some very influential people who--”
He turned toward his mother to continue and fell speechless. The
look in her eyes made him feel as if he had been doused with icy
water after a long marathon. Maranath, seeing the same thing,
stepped aside and leaned against the wall, a dubious expression on
his face.

Narelki’s face had grown
rigid with disapproval, making her seem even more a statue. After a
moment of consternation, Aiul recovered himself and met her stare
with his own, wondering if perhaps she thought of him as he did her:
carved of stone, hard of heart. Both of them bore more than passing
resemblance to their revered ancestor.
Only the eyes would be
different. She would see emeralds.

Narelki at last broke the
silence. “This is a mistake, Aiul.”

“We have been through
this.”

“We certainly have, and
don’t think for a moment that I don’t recognize an
ambush when I see one. If you imagined I would hide my disapproval
of this union because of our guests, you are sadly mistaken. I will
not bless foolhardiness.”

Aiul sighed. “Mother, I
have made my decision.”

Narelki’s face now showed
more anger, her nostrils flaring. “It is a
foolish
decision! You are a nobleman of Nihlos. You should marry a
noblewoman.”

“You’re a fine one
to talk!” Aiul snapped, a bit more sharply than he had
intended, but it was a ridiculous situation. His own father had been
a commoner. “Such hypocrisy!”

“It is hardly hypocrisy
to recognize the mistakes of one’s youth. It is wisdom.”

Aiul spread his arms wide and
looked to the two elders in frustration. “What would you have
me do, mother? I
love
Lara! She carries my
child
!”

“And what of it? You
needn’t acknowledge the child.” She folded her arms
across her chest. “A commoner is fine for a mistress, but a
marriage is quite another matter,” she declared. “They
don’t understand our ways, Aiul. It will go badly for you in
the end, and then you will have to do very difficult things, things
that will haunt you forever.”

“Because it went badly
for you? Because you are haunted?”

Narelki’s eyes flashed in
true anger now. “You go too far!”

Aiul stood fuming in silence
for a moment, then nodded and lowered his gaze to the floor. “You
speak truth.”

At this, Narelki softened a bit
as well. “Oh, Aiul, I know the madness you feel. I know it
well!” She walked over to her son, her head barely reaching
his chin, and hugged him. “But marriage is about more than
that. It is image and politics and business, too. Surely those three
things outweigh the one?”

Aiul shook his head in denial
and stepped apart from Narelki. “The Great Father spoke often
of balance in all things. If there were a noblewoman who suited me,
I would consider it, but there are none I would have as wife.”

“None? Kariana is a
beautiful women! She has made no secret of her interest in you, and
she is
Empress
!”
Ariano’s eyes grew wide at this suggestion, and Maranath was
seized by a coughing fit that didn’t entirely hide some choice
expletives.

Aiul shook his head sadly.
“Such a stupid and arrogant thing, that title. I’ll
always think of her as Kariana. I fail to see how my becoming one of
her many toys will raise my status or that of House Amrath. Her
perverse appetites are well known.”

“You had no such problem
with that before. You used to quite fancy her.”

“Mother, you are no
shrinking violet! There is a strong difference between what a man
chooses for dalliance and what he chooses for wife and mother of his
children!”

Narelki shook her head,
unmoved. “You were very close to her since you were children
yourselves. You’re making excuses.”

Aiul sighed, not really wanting
to go here, but Narelki had him cornered. “She
changed
,
mother. She was always undignified and impulsive. Those were some of
the things I liked about her.” He struggled against the urge
to smile as one after another outrageous memory bubbled up in his
mind. That would not help his argument at all. “Since she took
that crown, she’s become cruel and very publicly promiscuous.
She would shame me, Mother, and shame House Amrath.”

It was Narelki’s turn to
admit defeat. “You speak truth. The politics do not outweigh
the cost in dignity. But surely we could find someone--!”

Aiul shook his head and slammed
a fist into his open hand. “I’ve made my decision,
Mother!”

Narelki stared at him in
silence a moment, then gave him a curt nod. “And I have made
mine. As Matriarch of House Amrath, I forbid the union, as is my
right.”

Maranath cleared his throat as
his fingers tightened on the handle of his cane. “This is
unseemly.” He stepped forward and gently guided Aiul aside,
then faced Narelki with a scowl. “Aiul is no lovesick boy in
the grip of youthful madness. He’s is a man in the full of his
career, a respected physician, and the heir to House Amrath.”
He tapped the cane against the ground to underscore his point. “If
it is his image you are concerned with, how do you think it will
seem to others that he is treated as a child?”

“Is it not also unseemly
to question the judgment of a House Leader under their own roof?”
Narelki snapped.

“Aye, it is,”
Maranath shot back. “But we Aswan are troublemakers, eh?”

“I think we can blame
your troublemaking on another name besides that of Aswan.”

Maranath’s face grew dark
and his gaze cold. “Be careful with your words, Narelki.”

“And you with yours.”
Her stare was just as icy as his.

He held her gaze a moment
longer, grinding his teeth, then turned and strode back to the
couch. He plopped down in a huff, arms folded across his chest,
glowering at the fire. Aiul almost laughed to see the old man so
angry that he seemed to have forgotten, for the moment, the pain in
his joints.

“Don’t be upset,”
Ariano begged. “We are all practically family here.” She
smiled sweetly at Narelki. “Do you remember playing those
wonderful games right here in this room with your father and me? And
with Aiul, too!”

Narelki was in no mood to be
soothed by reminiscing. “I remember missing my mother, and
being angry at you for taking her place, if you want to know the
truth.”

Ariano sat back, mouth open in
shock, and gave a slight moan of dismay. At just that moment, a
great cracking shot echoed from the fireplace as a knot of timber
exploded, sending a stream of sparks and several large embers to
land on the carpet.