The Fire Mages' Daughter (10 page)

~~~~~

I walked every step of the way to Kingswell beside Ly-haam, to the ruination of my best riding boots and my feet. When the blisters got too bad, I borrowed boots and liners from one of the guards.

Ly-haam was remarkably companionable on the road. The first morning he drooped like a moonrose past its bloom, creeping along and stopping often. Gradually he perked up, and then we got on quite fast. His fear and misery had lifted like summer mist, and he chatted easily, although he still avoided answering any questions about himself or his people. Instead he wanted to know about the Drashona and the court.

It was surprisingly difficult to explain how it all worked, the way Yannassia’s role interleaved with the responsibilities of the Nobles’ Council. Then there was the matter of the choosing of heirs. He understood about kings and queens, and the inheritance of firstborns, and he also understood the idea of a dominant personality taking charge by force, as often happened in his own clans. But the subtle dance between Drashona and court was beyond him.

“But why do you have two heirs?” he asked. “Is it not confusing?”

“A primary heir and a secondary heir,” I said. “The second one is there in case anything happens to the first one.”

“But then you would make a new heir, would you not?”

I couldn’t find an answer that satisfied him.

Another time he wanted to know what the word
Drashona
meant. “Because I cannot find how the word originated,” he said plaintively.

“That’s because it’s an invented word,” I said. “When the kings were overthrown and the new system put in place, the nobles came up with meaningless words for all the titles. It avoids the weight of history.”

But he shook his head, looking bewildered.

I tried to suggest the idea of negotiating with the Drashona for what he wanted. He controlled many resources that we could use, and which might be bargaining pieces for the magical power he wanted.

His answer was sharp. “The power to heal is a gift from the gods. It should not be withheld where there is need.”

“A gift from the mages of the distant past, more like,” I muttered. But it wasn’t promising.

We stayed overnight at wayside inns, small and unobtrusive. Ly-haam was quite content to share a room with me, although he still slept on the floor. His fear was largely gone, but if anything unexpected made him nervous, he liked to hold my hand, and that calmed him at once. He seemed to trust me implicitly. There was no fire now from our touch, and he made no attempt to go further than hand-holding. It was a strange journey altogether. I still had no idea what to make of him, and I was no closer to understanding the mysterious attraction between us.

After three suns of travelling, the road at last curved round the base of Candle Mountain and the city slowly came into view. First the red mass of the Keep, then the low, dark buildings of the town surrounding it, and finally, set between the arms of the mountain, the golden walls and roofs of the Imperial City.

He went very quiet, but to his credit he never once hesitated. I could scarcely imagine what it must be like to encounter such a great conglomeration of structures, sprawling over the land like an angry weal. He had never seen anything bigger than a
clava,
I assumed, and now he was about to enter the vast maw of the Keep.

Yannassia sent an extra honour guard to accompany us, with drummers and pipers and a carriage containing Vhar-zhin. Ly-haam beamed with delight to see another familiar face, and her charm persuaded him to ride into the city beside her. I’d thought I might take to my horse the rest of the way, but when I suggested it, Ly-haam grabbed my hand in consternation.

So the three of us rode in state in Yannassia’s finest carriage, with Ly-haam running his fingers in awe over the silk cushions and polished wooden fittings. Then he was mesmerised by the sights of the city, and seemed not to mind that every peasant and merchant’s runner ogled him in open curiosity as the carriage rattled over the cobbles.

When we reached the smoother streets around the Keep, the wealthier citizens bowed respectfully as we passed by and rows of guards stood to attention at every junction, holding back the traffic for us. Finally we rolled under the archway of the Keep, the road circling the walls emptied especially for us, and swished round to Yannassia’s tower.

She was there to meet us, standing on the lowest step, surrounded by guards and her waiting women and half the nobility. She wore gold, a stiff brocade that made her look like a gilt statue, even to the scrap of lace cap that covered her hair. Seeing her standing so straight, so dignified, as we stepped down from the carriage, and imagining how she must appear in Ly-haam’s eyes, it was no surprise when he took one look and dropped to his knees.

“Queen majesty!” he said, touching his forehead with one finger. Then he grinned at her, and threw out his arms. “I am
byan shar
, and I am come to talk to you.”

She inclined her head, murmuring the usual words, and gestured towards the steps. Her entourage parted like a flock of birds, and without a word or a backward glance, Ly-haam bounced up the steps beside her, chattering merrily. All of a sudden, the smiling, mischievous creature from the camp was back.

Vhar-zhin and I exchanged glances. Everything was in harmony for the moment, but how long could it last?

It took about half a minute for everything to unravel. Ly-haam got as far as the great wooden doors with their gleaming hinges, and stopped dead. First he looked up at the arch of the doorway far above his head. Then he spun round, and for a moment I was afraid he would simply run away.

But no. “Princess?” he said, his eyes casting over the vast crowd following Yannassia, then lighting with relief when he spotted me. “Princess! May I…?”

He held out his hand to me. When I took it, I was aware of something, a little burst of fire inside me. He felt it too, for he gazed at me with dismay on his face. Clearly the calming after-effects of our coupling were wearing off.

“Most Powerful,” I said. “I believe our guest is exhausted by his long journey. I am sure he appreciates this wonderful reception, but perhaps a rest…?”

She frowned, and I hoped she wasn’t going to make an issue of it. Clearly she was aware of all that had happened on the journey, for innumerable messages had flown back and forth by fast rider while Ly-haam and his escort had trudged at walking pace. She knew enough to understand that he brought a unique set of problems with him.

After a moment, she nodded. “Very well, Axandrina. You may show our honoured guest to the King’s Chambers. We will meet again this evening,
byan shar
.”

I got him through the endless corridors of the Keep as quickly as I dared, and left Cryalla to keep out the many curious onlookers who would have followed their unusual visitor wherever he went, if they were allowed. We went straight to the bedroom, and onto the bed. He wasn’t burning up in quite the same way this time, but there was still a frightening urgency to it.

I hated that feeling of being out of control, as if my body had a mind of its own and took no notice of my wishes or feelings. Ly-haam was not a man who would normally have attracted me at all. He was bone-thin, only a little taller than me, and not handsome in any masculine way. He seemed to me like a boy, not a man at all. Unless I touched him and lit the fires, I felt no desire for him, not like my sweet bodyguard, who drew me like a fly to honey. Nor was there even the comfortable companionship of shared history, as with Lathran.

Ly-haam was unsettling in many different ways. I didn’t understand him or his people, and he was no more to me than a diplomatic problem to be solved. Yet when this horrible passion devoured us, I had no choice but to writhe around with him like an animal. It was deeply disturbing, and I had no idea what I could do about it.

~~~~~

During his stay at the Keep, Ly-haam was treated like a visiting king, the nobles vying to entertain him, show him their estates and introduce him to their daughters, and their sons, too, in case his interests ran that way. Each morning, a grand carriage would arrive to whisk him away, drive him around the city or out into the countryside, feed him to bursting point, and return him, sated, late in the afternoon. Then there would be an hour or so of talk with Yannassia or the law scribes or mages. In the evening another feast in his honour, or a musical entertainment, or a dramatic reading.

All the while, he smiled and nodded and watched, and his only comment, when pressed, was, “Very interesting.” I don’t suppose any of it made sense to him. What could our refined ways mean to a man who had grown up in a primitive hunting and fishing society? He couldn’t read or write, so how could he have any concept of history, or science, or numbers, or works of the imagination?

Many people wondered at his fluency with the language, but he shrugged and said only that he’d been taught as a boy, because he had been destined to be a trader like his mother.

And yet he seemed remarkably at ease in Kingswell. Partly that was my influence. I was instructed to accompany him on all his outings, and I think he would have refused to go without me. Zandara, Vhar-zhin and Axandor all went along sometimes, but I was the one whose appearance brought a smile to his face. He liked to hold my hand, and it seemed to soothe him, in some unfathomable way. While I was with him, and particularly while we were in direct contact, he had no fear of the high buildings, the press of traffic, the multitude of people, the noise. It was very strange.

At night, I stayed with him in the King’s Chambers, although he never touched me unless he had to, when his need for me couldn’t be denied. Still, it seemed to keep his emotions in check, and there was less of the frantic urgency. It wasn’t quite as overwhelming an experience for me, but at least I was more in control of myself.

Yannassia was never anything but composed in her dealings with Ly-haam, but I began to get irritated by his refusal to enter into serious discussions. After all, wasn’t that what he had come for? If he wanted mages to help his people, he had to be prepared to trade something for the privilege. Yet he said nothing of what he wanted, or what he might give to have it.

One night, as we prepared for bed, I decided to push him a little harder. “You know, Ly, you are not being open with me.”

He froze, one leg in his trousers, the other out, and stared at me. “What do you mean?”

“You tell me nothing about your people, and yet I ought to know everything about you.”

“I tell you what you need to know.”

“Which is nothing. This connection between us, for instance… why?”

He wriggled out of his trousers, and folded them neatly, not looking at me. “I do not understand that myself. I have told you this already. It is a mystery to me.”

“Really?” I said, not sure I believed him. “And then…” I hesitated. My ability to enter the minds of rats and eagles was almost too peculiar to mention, yet perhaps he would understand it, given the connection to beasts the Blood Clan people were known to have.

I took his hand and led him to a sofa near the window. “Ly, after the first time we were… together, something changed in me. There was a warmth inside me…”

“That is usual. My seed is… special. I told you that, too, Drina.”

“Yes, but… it’s hard to explain. But now I can see your eagles.”

He shook his head a little, his hair bouncing softly. “They are not invisible. Anyone can see them.”

“No, I can see
inside
them. I
know
where your eagles are, right now, and I can see through their eyes.”

“No, no. That is not possible. They are bonded, you cannot… no one else can bond with them. I think you are making this up.”

Now, I’d been in a thousand diplomatic meetings, and heard a million weasel words, and uttered quite a few myself. But no one had ever called me a liar to my face before. Rage flooded through me so fast I could hardly breathe. How dared he! Sitting there so smugly, disbelieving.

I slapped him, hitting him so hard his head spun to the side.

“Don’t you
dare
suggest I’m inventing this. One of your eagles is perched on top of the south-eastern tower right now, and the other two are up in the crags near the summit of Candle Mountain. And I can see rats, as well. There are several in the apartment just above this one. There’s a kitchen up there, and maybe the cooks are careless about dropped food. There are four… no, five, directly above us.”

He was as white as his shirt. “No,” he whispered. “It is not possible… is it? But how?”

I was instantly deflated. “I was hoping you would tell me. But it began after the business at your village. Not immediately, but slowly, over a moon or so.”

He moaned. “Oh no! You were not… surely you could not be…? Oh, dear ancestors, this is far, far worse!” He wrapped his arms around his skinny body, and rocked gently.

“I was not
what
?”

“Did you bleed? Afterwards, I mean?”

“Yes, of course. I don’t… oh.”

“It was your first time, then?” he said, his voice low. I nodded, getting the point. “My seed, and your blood… You have my seed in your blood. Oh, ancestors! This is very bad.”

“Is it?” I said in a small voice. It had seemed strange to me, but not necessarily bad. “You had better explain.”

“I am not sure I can,” he said. “This is… very unusual. In fact, I have never heard of such a thing. I shall need to consult the elders, to see what must be done.”

Must be done? That sounded ominous. But he would say nothing more about it.

That night, he slept on the floor again, and when I woke in the morning he was gone, and the eagles too.

~~~~~

Yannassia wasn’t visibly angry, but she gave the guard commanders an uncomfortable time of it. She was not tall, and her chair was plain wood, but her dignified bearing on the dais made her seem very queenly at such moments. The commanders stood in a line, helmets held under their arms with ceremonial precision, uniforms spotless, and trembled before her.

“How is it possible,” she said, her voice icy, “that every entrance to that apartment was watched for the entire night, yet no one saw him leave? How can that be, Commander?”

“I cannot answer you, Most Powerful,” the senior commander said, her voice wobbling a very little. “Although there are windows from which perhaps he might have climbed—”

“From the fourth floor? Really? Is that the best you can offer?” The commander bowed low, smart enough not to argue the point. “But if, by some miracle, he managed to climb to the ground, he could hardly leave the Keep. I take it you have checked with the gate guards?”

“Of course, Most Powerful. The gates were closed all night, and no one passed through after the curfew. I have ordered the gates to remain closed while we search the Keep, Most Powerful.”

“Ah. That is something. Go, then, and keep me informed.”

The commanders marched out in synchronised precision, but I suspect the performance was more for their own spirits than to impress the court.

Yannassia turned to me. “Axandrina, you heard nothing?”

“Nothing at all, Highness. He was gone when I woke up.”

Zandara turned her blank gaze on me. “I am surprised his departure did not wake you, sister. You used to be a very light sleeper.” She turned back to Yannassia. “There is a concealed passage leading from that apartment to the roof. Perhaps—”

“Nonsense!” Yannassia snapped, brows lowering ominously. “The roof would be no help. He would still need to reach the ground, and the outside walls are sheer. And I hope you do not dare to suggest that Drina helped this boy to escape. She has already done a great deal more than anyone could have asked, in order to keep him happy. I am perfectly content with her actions.”

Zandara said nothing more, lowering her eyes demurely.

“Maybe he flew from the roof,” Axandor said with a grin, arms making flapping motions.

Yannassia ignored him. “Well, it is most disappointing. He seemed quite content here, in his way. I was hopeful we would get something out of him in time. Now I suppose the prospect is quite lost.”

Zandara coughed, her affected little dry cough to draw her mother’s attention. “Not necessarily, Most Powerful.”

“Really?” Yannassia’s eyes gleamed with sudden interest. “What do you have in mind?”

Zandara fluffed her skirts, and sat up a little straighter. “I have been making a study of this
byan shar
while he has been here. He is not a particularly imposing specimen. I do not think we need to fear him. He has no special talent or ability. He has no army to call upon, and his people are primitive herders and hunters. I believe we could take what we want without fear of retribution.”

“You want to start a war?” Yannassia said, her tone as mild as milk.

A good question, but Zandara didn’t flinch. “There is nothing to fear from a well-judged military campaign, and everything to gain, as my father well understood. We have benefited greatly from our alliance with the Port Holdings over the years. I see no reason why we should not benefit even more from a foray into the Clanlands. Not a war, so much as a small campaign to secure access to the black-bark forest. The profits from that would fund a larger-scale incursion to the rich inner lands, should we wish to follow that course.”

The mask of restraint slipped from Yannassia’s features, and she actually smiled. “The idea has merit. But I do not know if we have the army strength for a major campaign, while still maintaining the rest of our borders.”

“We have the Icthari as settled allies to the north,” Zandara said. “The east is quiet just now, since the Vahsi have not troubled us much for a generation or more. The south we already control. I do not consider it a problem.”

Yannassia nodded. “It is too late in the year for any movement, but perhaps a spring campaign… Zandara, you may consult with the High Commander about the possibility. Come back to me with a detailed plan a moon from now. If I like it, we will put it to the Nobles’ Council.”

The court dissolved into excited twittering, like a flock of birds. Axandor made swishing noises with a pretend sword, and Zandara was trying very hard not to appear triumphant at this unexpected success.

I felt sick. I had no greater respect for Ly-haam and his people than Zandara, and I had far more reason to dislike them than she had. Yet I hated the thought of the army marching down the hill from the fortress and trampling those people and their simple way of life into the dust. We had endured any number of conflicts with them in the past, but most of the time they were peaceful neighbours, even if their ways were strange. And just now, it seemed to me that Ly-haam was stretching a tentative hand of friendship towards us. It seemed foolish to push him away so peremptorily.