The Merchant Emperor (45 page)

Ashe looked down and let out a long sigh.

Never,
he said quietly.
Throughout two lifetimes, across two worlds, you have never failed me. Nor have you ever failed our son. I will remember Emily, even if you don’t for a while, believe me. I bow to your wisdom in this matter, and I’m sorry if I seemed to doubt it. I do know what this is costing you—it is the same nightmare I took on when I realized you both were not safe here with me in Highmeadow, that I could not protect you and prosecute the war at the same time. I don’t believe you understood when I sent you away what it cost me, not only to lose both of you from my life, but also to have to entrust you to Achmed for your own safety.

“Well, I know now,” Rhapsody said. “Of all the sovereigns in the Cymrian Alliance, Faedryth is the one who is most angry with me. I will have to eat the equivalent of the ground glass that he reduced his Lightforge to in order to gain his agreement, I have no doubt. At least Achmed agreed willingly to take us back to Ylorc with him.”

Ashe said nothing. Rhapsody flinched at the tensing of the muscles in his cheeks as he clenched his teeth, the intensifying of the fire in his eyes, but he did not give voice to his thoughts.

“I want to tell you something,” she whispered. “Something from my heart, something I barely have words for. Something I will not be able to say or feel or even understand when I—after I leave him. Something from my soul to yours, through our marital bond.”

The depth of pain and love in her eyes made Ashe’s gleam at the edges.

Tell me, then—I am listening, beloved
.

Rhapsody noticed that the light was dimming She cleared her throat, then spoke carefully, trying not to hurry, even though she feared losing the connection.

“The night Meridion was conceived, I heard—maybe not heard, maybe
felt
, I don’t know how to put words to it—a tone ring within me, a namesong different from the one I hear from you, and from my own. I believe it was the first time I was aware of Meridion in this world; he didn’t begin with us, Sam. It’s like we were the doorway, you and I, to allow him to come into being from where he already was. And deep within me I sense other such songs, far away; I’m not sure if it’s only one, or many, because they are so distant, but it makes me believe that there are other children, other entities, meant to be born of our love, waiting somewhere in the ether.”

Her words ground to a halt as she saw the change in his face. It was a softening of the sharp edges, a loosening of the hold his dragon nature clearly had on him now, leaving him human and vulnerable.

Her own eyes stung at the purity and depth of the love that she saw in his aspect.

“I’ve heard women of many different races say something to the effect that a woman innately knows how many children she has inside of her,” she went on, feeling weak in the warmth of his gaze. “I now am beginning to understand what they mean. I asked you to consider having Meridion because I could
hear
him, as if he was calling to me, I could feel him waiting. And if there is any hope I can impart to you, my dearest love, it is this; there are others waiting, at least one other song waiting to come into this world through you and me. I can
hear
it, Sam; I can hear them.” The tears spilled over again.

Ashe smiled and reached out his hand to the image of her.
I believe you.

“And that means, I think, that we are meant to live through this, to be reunited, with each other
and
our son, to resume our lives as we have planned them, to be the doorway for whatever other souls are waiting to be born of the love between us.”

I pray you are right.

Rhapsody reached out her hand in turn to him, though the images did not touch.

“The lore of the soul is as powerful a lore as there is—it transcends even Time. Hold on to that, my love.”

I am doing my best, Rhapsody
.

“I know. I know you are.”

You cannot know how much comfort hearing this gives me,
he said.
Kiss our son for me.

The light had now left the sky, and the blue column faded to little more than an echo.

“I love you, Sam,” she called as it disappeared, taking the image of her husband with it.

Along with what little peace of mind she had left.

41

When she came out of Gurgus Peak, Rhapsody took Grunthor by the sleeve and pulled him aside.

“Grunthor, will you consider doing me two important favors, please?”

The giant’s amber eyes twinkled affectionately.

“O’ course, Duchess—you ought to know by now Oi’d do anything for you.”

Her eyes sparkled warmly in return.

“I do, but my mother always told me it was polite to ask, even if you already know the answer. Do you suppose you could make certain that the troops are not marching past my door this evening, singing grotesque cadences? Dearly as I enjoy hearing them on most occasions, tonight I need to speak with my son, and it’s important that we are not interrupted.”

“Good as done, Yer Ladyship.”

“Thank you.”

The Sergeant-Major nodded. “An’ the second?”

Rhapsody’s smile dimmed, and her face grew serious.

“Would you do Ashe and me the honor of being Meridion’s godfather?”

Grunthor blinked.

“Godfather?”

“Yes.”

A look of surpassing seriousness, and something more, crossed the Sergeant’s face. “Not sure what that means, Duchess.”

Rhapsody exhaled. “It’s an honorary position, a sign of great love and respect,” she said softly. “Offered to someone you want to be involved forever in your child’s life, who will be a role model and a confidante to him, and if something happens to his parents, will make certain he is taken care of and safe. Ashe serves in that role to Gwydion Navarne, his godson.” She ran her hand down the giant’s arm and into his massive, pawlike palm, taking care to avoid scratching herself on his claws. “It’s an honor that is not conferred lightly, because of its importance to the well-being of a child, our dearest treasure. It’s one of the best ways we humans have of telling someone we love him.”

The Firbolg soldier’s face grew red from what looked like the warring emotions of delight and abashment.

“Ol’ Waterboy is all right with this?”

Rhapsody’s smile grew brighter. “It was his idea.”

Grunthor grinned, but he did not look like he believed her.

“Really,” Rhapsody insisted, squeezing his hand. “I knew my choice long ago, but when I asked him for his thoughts on the matter, yours was the first name out of his mouth.” She looked deeply into his eyes and used her True-Speaking lore. “Our son would not be alive if it was not for you, and for what you have done, time and time again, to save and protect him, and me. His father and I are both unspeakably grateful. And Meridion loves you. Most of the time the choice of a godfather has nothing to do with the child’s opinion; it’s a decision made by the parents alone. But it is clear to me that if he were able to speak, my son would utter the same answer to the question ‘who shall we ask to be Meridion’s godfather’ as his father did.”

Grunthor scratched his massive head awkwardly.

“Oi don’ know what to say, Yer Ladyship. O’ course I will look after the lit’le prince, tend to ’is trainin’ and the like, but Oi don’t even want you contemplatin’ ’avin’ somethin’ ’appen to you.” He looked down into her crestfallen face. “Oi’m greatly honored, o’ course.”

Rhapsody squared her shoulders.

“Having a child means always contemplating what to do should something happen to his parents,” she said. “You needn’t worry; Meridion is the greatest insurance you will ever have that I will do everything possible to live through whatever is coming. I’m just asking you to be officially acknowledged as special to both him and to me—it’s little enough to offer for how deeply I love you, and always will.”

*   *   *

The knock on his bedchamber door roused Achmed from his reverie. He rose from his chair, went to the door and opened it.

Rhapsody was standing in the hallway, her arms empty.

Silently Achmed held the door farther open.

She crossed her arms as she came into the room, looking around at the surprising opulence. The Bolg king was a man of ascetic tastes, but the one place he had ever indulged in any form of luxury was his bedchamber. The man whose life was a constant assault of vibrations on his ultrasensitive skin had outfitted his sleeping quarters with black silk sheets and dark, thick carpets, making his time unconscious comfortable and allowing himself the respite of oblivion from the torment that was each waking moment.

“I have a request of you. Please don’t grant it if you don’t want to.”

Achmed’s brow furrowed. “You know me better than to need to say that.”

“I do. I would like you to do me the honor of being Meridion’s guardian.”

The Bolg king stared at her.

“I do not know why you seem to hate him as much as you do,” she said, looking away. “You have sacrificed much to save both him and me, twice from Anwyn, and now from Talquist. But the things you call him—”

“Stop. I don’t hate him. He irritates me.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Rhapsody said, meeting his gaze again. “Say I’m biased, but Meridion is the easiest, most cheerful and musical child I’ve ever known. Almost every time he has cried, or stunk up your sensitive sinuses, it has been a warning that we were being followed, or that the dragon was awake in the baths of Kurimah Milani, or that Kraldurge was full of
assassins
, or a dozen other things that might lead anyone who
didn’t
hate him to recognize his innate magic. But you have nothing good or kind to say about him. You have never referred to him as anything but a brat, which in the language of my childhood either denoted spoiled behavior, which insults him, or illegitimacy, which insults me.”

The unsettling eyes bore into her.

“Then why would you want me to be his guardian?”

Rhapsody exhaled.

“Because I love you. Because I trust you. Because there is no one on this earth he is safer with. If something should happen to me, I want to be able to die knowing that you will make sure he gets back to his father, that he will not be abused or harmed. It just makes me sad that you can’t be kinder to him.”

“You believe I’ve been unkind to him?”

She reconsidered. “No, I guess that’s wrong. I think you’ve been unkind to me about him. And I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did to gain your ire, to make you angry, to make you say the things you have. But whatever regret I have about this is dwarfed utterly by how grateful I am for everything you’ve done to protect us, to rescue us, to keep us safe. So I ask you, please, will you do this for me? Will you protect my son if I am killed? Will you see to it that he is safe until Ashe can get to him?”

Achmed continued to stare at her for a long time. Finally he nodded silently.

“Thank you,” Rhapsody said. “I’m sorry you don’t know this for the honor it is meant to be, but you have my deepest gratitude. Maybe one day I will understand what I did to make you so angry and hostile about him.”

She turned on her heel and left the room without a backward glance.

Achmed felt the reverberations of the door in his skin and eyelids until they died away.

“You let Ashe be his father,” he said aloud to no one.

*   *   *

Rhapsody had taken a short walk in the evening wind to clear her head before talking to the third man she loved that night. She could hear the soft cooing noises even as she opened the door to her chamber.

Analise had already picked him up and was smiling down at him, carrying on a conversation with him in Ancient Lirin. Rhapsody chuckled; the baby responded happily to each phrase she uttered in a variety of nonsense syllables that made tears come to her eyes.

Analise, knowing what she was about to do, kissed her friend and put the baby in her arms.

Rhapsody waited until the door closed behind her, then laid Meridion down on his back on her bed and watched him for a long time, smiling down at her son. In her hand she held a tiny pearl earring.

She reached out and gently touched his ear lobe, speaking the name of mist.

For a few moments, the little boy’s skin became vaporous, just long enough for Rhapsody to pin the earring through without hurting him. Then she stopped her chant, and caressed the lobe as it became solid again.

“Leaving you surely is the most difficult thing I will ever do,” she said, trying to smile. “But I must be brave, as you have been so, so brave. If I falter now, how can I ever hope to be worthy of the role with which you have blessed me?”

The infant’s eyes were locked on her, the look in them quizzical. Rhapsody leaned over him and kissed his forehead, then his tiny hands and belly.

“
Y pippin
,” she said softly. The words came from the deepest part of her heart, in the language she had spoken almost solely with her mother, Ancient Lirin, the tongue lost to the world when the Island of Serendair sank beneath the waves of the sea. Words by which her own mother had called her.
Y pippin.

My baby
.

She blinked, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes. With a trembling finger she caressed the tiny pearl in the baby’s earlobe.

“In this pearl I am leaving you my true name and my heart, my lovely little boy, along with the memory of what I am telling you now. What better place to keep them than with the only other Liringlas Singer in our family?”

The baby gurgled and smiled toothlessly, making her eyes sparkle and fill with tears at the same time in spite of her efforts to hold them back. His clear blue eyes, almost the exact color as his father’s, were still focused on her, the tiny dragonesque pupils within them twinkling as if he understood everything she was saying.

She thought back to the earliest part of her pregnancy with him, when a nightmare from her past, a demonic host, a man obsessed with her, had chased her into the sea, where she was trapped in the swirling fury of a tidal cave. The terror, the savage danger of the rising tides, the churning waves that blasted her about in the dark, scraping her against the ceiling of the cave, had been easier to bear and eventually vanquish when she had begun talking to the baby, newly conceived. She remembered the words she had spoken to him one day, floating in her watery prison, while listening to and learning the songs of the sea.