The Second God (37 page)

“I think so.”
There was burning heat on one of my fingers, making me yelp, as he dipped it into the bowl
. “Ouch! Hot, too. This is the first hot food I have had. And the bread is soft. Oh, there is another flask of water, as well. So they have decided not to starve me.”
A pause.
“Not yet, anyway.”

“You are no use to them dead,”
I said briskly.

“Not much use alive, either,”
he said, and I could have wept at the heaviness in his tone.

~~~~~

Ly and I spent the morning with Pay-hoom and Sho-heest. They were subdued, and a little jumpy, so we took them up to the roof where the eagles were. There was a view across the lake, placid in the weak sunshine, with smoke rising from the Clanfolk’s trading village. A few war-beasts moved about nearby, but the great numbers called by Sho’s summoning had dispersed, vanished into the black-bark forest. Perhaps Ly could detect them in there, but they were out of my range.

Settling on the ground with his back to the parapet, once he had reassured them that Jes was making good progress, Ly questioned Pay about
byan shar
powers. As an elder, she had full access to the memories of her own Clans, inherited from her father and mother, but there were gaps, it seemed.

“I don’t know much about the god-powers.” She glanced at Sho, cross-legged beside her, head slumped. “We’ve talked about it, but I suppose we’d assumed it would just happen when he achieved his full power. But not to you?”

“No. I don’t know whether it’s something that is available when needed, or whether there’s another growth period necessary, or whether I have to
do
something to acquire it.”

“There are so few
byan shar
,” she said softly. “We know so little, and my memories aren’t much use. My Clan history is all farming and a bit of tame hunting. I really don’t know how I can help you.”

“I have been thinking of my father lately,” Ly said. “I’m wondering whether his Clan could help.”

She brightened. “Of course. He’s Wild Hunter, isn’t he? They’ve produced more
byan shar
than any other Clan, and they’re so close to Dragon Mountain, they have many elders. You would certainly get some useful memories from them.”

Ly sighed. “That is what I was afraid of. I’m needed here to help with the war, but I must do everything possible to develop god-powers first. I suppose I shall have to go and find my father.”

“Alone?” I said. My heart turned over. Arran locked away, and now Ly was going away from me.

“You are needed here,” he said in Bennamorian. “No one else can do what you can to control our prisoner. You must take him to Kingswell and keep him tame. Do not let him escape or start another summoning, or I shall be forced to kill him and we may yet have need of him. And when the fighting starts, you must be near the Wind God to counter his storms. I would a thousand times rather have you with me, especially with things how they are with Arran, but we must do what is best for Bennamore now, and our friends at the coast. We will still be together, Princess. We can still talk.”

“It’s not the same,” I said softly.

“I know. But you are Yannassia’s heir, and you have the strength in you to do what is needful. Here…”

He unfastened the amber necklace and slid it over my head, so that it hung heavy round my neck. I felt the tingle of magic as it came to rest against my skin. Ly blocked my view of Pay-hoom, but I heard her intake of breath.

“Now you are officially my deputy,” Ly said. “This strengthens everything that passes through you, your communication with Arran and me, your bond with any of the beasts, anything we do together. The Clanfolk will obey you as they would obey me, and you will also be able to compel them, as you have seen me do.”

“Don’t you need it?”

He shook his head, smiling. “My power no longer needs strengthening. Besides, I can draw on it even when you wear it, should I need to. I can still feel it through you, so long as you wear it next to your skin. Do not hesitate to use it if you need to. The compulsion – do not attempt it with the boy-god, for he cannot be compelled, but his mother can.”

I wrapped my hand round the amber, feeling the magic deep within it. Ly’s magic, Clan magic, so different from Bennamore’s.

“What are you doing?” Pay hissed, her anger twisting her face. “You should give that to Sho. He is
byan shar
, it is his, you know this!”

“He has not yet earned it,” Ly spat back. “If he behaves well, and does everything my wife tells him to do, then in time, when he is stronger, I may permit him to wear it. And if he wishes to earn it sooner, he must aid us in the war.”

Sho looked at him, puzzled. “You want my help?”

“The gods chose you for a reason, Sho-heest, and I believe you were chosen to help me. You have already proved your value to me, inadvertently, by summoning the lion guard just when I needed them. But if you wish to be more than a prisoner, you must commit yourself to supporting me, freely and wholeheartedly, through the coming war.”

“I do trust you are not planning on marrying this one, too, Drina,” Yannassia said. “Because we have laws about that sort of thing.”

It felt like a long time since I’d heard anything to make me laugh. Weighed down with worries and bereft of my two men, I wanted nothing but to curl up into a ball and pretend none of it was happening. When I was a child, that was very much what I’d done, taking to my bed with a book for whole suns at a time, and in the summer dozing under the pear trees in the garden, listening to the bees humming, my fingers digging into the soil for that tiny buzz of magic. When I’d first moved to Kingswell, I’d made myself obnoxious in every possible way so that Yannassia would tire of me and send me home. I’d even flooded the Keep, once, when some mischief got out of control.

But even I’d had to grow up eventually. Denying the reality of my situation only made it more difficult to deal with. Pretending the bee isn’t there doesn’t avoid the sting. So I’d brought my captives to Kingswell, as Ly had wished, leaving Jes behind in the mages’ care, and settled them into Ly’s old apartment. It was still fitted with all the necessary locks and guard posts, and he no longer needed it, since he would share my rooms when he returned. If he returned, that is. I don’t know why I was so gloomy, but my heart told me to fear the worst.

That last night with Ly, I don’t think I’d slept at all. I never wanted it to end. He’d been with me for more than five years, and although he wasn’t Arran – there would never be another Arran – he’d grown on me. Pity had turned to liking and then, in infinitesimal stages, to something that could only be called love. Since Arran had been lost to me, I’d clung to Ly as if he were the only piece of flotsam in a swollen river. He’d kept me steady and sane and optimistic.

Now he was calmly leaving me to travel alone to the far side of the Clanlands, to mountainous terrain so remote that it was on no maps and had no name in Bennamorian. Ly called them the Wild Hills, which did nothing to reassure me. I’d clung to him in desperation, too miserable even to cry, and he’d kissed me and made gentle love to me and told me he loved me in two languages. And in the morning, he’d summoned Diamond and flown away from me.

And because I hadn’t the excuse of childhood any more, I got on with doing what had to be done, taking Sho and Pay to Kingswell. I was so heartsick at losing both Ly and Arran, I had no mind to linger a single moment longer than necessary at Lakeside, so we flew, with the ever-present Kalmander in attendance. I suppose I should have taken them by road, but the prospect of waiting sun after sun for a suitable escort to arrive, and then the long, dreary journey with bad roads and inadequate inns, held no appeal. Sho and Pay promised not to try to escape, and since I now had the power to compel Pay if she resisted, I didn’t think Sho would take off without her. He seemed bereft, poor boy, quite lost without Jes to direct him, and hadn’t an ounce of defiance left in him.

Yannassia greeted the new arrivals with her usual unflappable poise. She bemused them by receiving them in full state in the middle of an assembly, surrounded by the nobles and scribes and mages and visiting dignitaries and all the other elements of her court. Pay was bewildered, and said not a word, but Sho looked around at the richness of the furnishings and the glittering jewels and gold with great interest, and responded readily to every question.

They settled in well and were suspiciously docile. I’d expected trouble from them, but there was none. Yannassia had found an interpreter, who was Clan herself, and the three of them got along as merrily as a bonfire. I watched them from wherever I was, for it all seemed too good to be true, but I couldn’t fault their behaviour.

As for me, I was thrust back into the centre of court life. There were meetings and assemblies and grand dinners and celebrations, as if Dellonar wasn’t under hostile occupation and we weren’t on the brink of another war. Kingswell had panicked mightily when we’d been under attack by the Clanfolk, but Dellonar was so distant that few had even heard of it, beyond a few merchants who traded with the coastal towns. This time, they felt, the war would happen far, far away and Bennamore would be unaffected, apart from a few families whose son or daughter had marched off to fight. I wished I could be so sanguine. For once the Dragon God had sated his lust for expansion to the south, surely he would start to look west? And if our troops were depleted to help the Port Holdings, we would be very vulnerable.

“Axandor is already at Shannamar, and will begin the march east soon,” Yannassia said, when we had a quiet moment in her private sitting room. “The Port Holdings will arrive at Dellonar by sea, and our troops on land, and it is imperative everyone arrives at the same time. Ly’s lions will be invaluable to help us co-ordinate. How soon will they be on hand?”

I stretched out in my mind, searching for them. “A sun, maybe two, before they reach Shannamar. From there, the Speaker may send them wherever needed. Is he expecting them?”

“We sent word by fast rider as soon as we knew. And interpreters. We do not have many here who speak the Clanfolk’s language, but enough. I hope the message arrives before the lions, otherwise there will be panic, and that is not what any of us need at this time.”

“I told Ly to be sure they know to stop at the boundary stones. He will translate if necessary.”

“Hmm. It would be easier if these people could write. We could give them letters of introduction, then.”

That made me smile. “A lion rider doesn’t usually need to be introduced.”

“Ha! True. Ah Drina, so much that is new for me to get into my head. And here is another one, a new kind of fruit which is supposed to be very tasty in cakes. Try one.” She pushed the plate towards me. “These little ones here. Torthran likes them, but I think they are quite nasty, personally. Cakes should be sweet and sticky, made with honey and fruit, not with this sour stuff.” She heaved a great sigh. In public, Yannassia was as serene as ever, but when I saw her informally, I thought she was worn with worry.

“You’re looking tired,” I said. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

She smiled. “I am supposed to ask
you
that, remember? When did our roles reverse? But you are right, I am not coping with this very well. If I am honest, I would have to say that I did not cope very well with the last war, either.”

“You were ill,” I murmured.

“I was pregnant, which is
not
an illness,” she said crisply, with a hint of her old fire. “Although it was a particularly troublesome pregnancy. But we muddled through the war anyway, thanks to you. Will we muddle through this one, do you think?”

“What does Axandor think?”

“Axandor is supremely confident, naturally.”

I laughed. “Yes, it was a foolish question. What do Axandor’s commanders think?”

“That the numbers favour us, but it will be a hard fight to clear Dellonar. We cannot use Ly’s war-beasts, for they are not well suited to towns, but we should prevail without them. After that… who knows? It is unlikely that the entire golden army will stand still to be slaughtered, or surrender, so no doubt they will retreat to Rinnfarr Gap and Greenstone Ford. But we need not pursue them. Our only commitment is to Dellonar, and the other Port Holdings.”

“And if they regroup, and decide to turn their eyes on us?”

“Then we will defend our borders, as we have always done. We will have Ly’s war-beasts to aid us in that. I have informed the Icthari of our plans, too, but I do not depend on them honouring our treaties. They have problems of their own with the Vahsi moving into their territory.”

“They’re not terribly organised, either,” I said. “I wouldn’t like to rely on them even turning up in time for a battle.”

She smiled at that. “Fortunately, we have adequate defences without their aid. I do not believe the golden army can threaten us.”

“And yet we will never be truly safe while their god lives. Where is he, do we know?”

“No.” She frowned. “The watch post was abandoned, and Flenn was occupied bringing the former hostages back safely, so no one has been keeping an eye on Greenstone Ford, to see who goes in or out.”

“And Sho’s summoning drew all the beasts away, so we could get no information from them. He could be anywhere.”

“Flenn is there now, but he has to fly back here to tell us anything. Is there any way you can communicate with him?”

“No. He’s not Clan, and not mentally bonded with his eagle. I can see through the eagle’s eyes, but that’s all.”

“Well, there is nothing to be done about it until Ly’s lions get there. How is Ly, dear?”

“He’s fine. Still flying west.”

I didn’t have much to say about Ly, being very cross with him for leaving me so abruptly. Even understanding the necessity, I resented being stuck with the Sho problem, while Ly was as free as a wild eagle. He’d stopped at the castle for a sun to talk to the elders again, but then he’d flown on, the tamed lands around the inland sea giving way to forest and then desolate, empty hills with no sign of settlements at all. Each night he made camp, hunted and cooked for himself, washed in a nearby stream, and then slept under the wide sky. There was a contentment about him that upset me. He was so self-sufficient. Whenever I contacted him, there was a burst of pleasure in his mind, but I’m not sure he missed me much.

Yannassia must have guessed some of this, for she didn’t press me. Instead, her voice softened. “And how is poor Arran bearing up?”

But that just made me cry. Arran was my rock just then. Whenever a meeting or assembly became too tediously full of endless army reports on horses lamed or spears broken, I could amuse myself by taking my mind somewhere else entirely. Ly’s eyes gave me endless views of hills and forests and emptiness, which was almost as dull, and he was often too distracted to talk much. I felt I was interrupting him. Arran, however, never minded being interrupted. He was always there, always happy to talk to me, for he had nothing else to do but doze the hours away or pace about his tiny cell, six paces one way and four the other, taking care to avoid the night bucket in the corner. He’d knocked it over twice, before he’d got the measure of his surroundings. He seldom initiated contact, not wanting to disturb me, but he was always delighted when I called to him.

In one meeting, when the nobles were whining about some shortages or other, as they did all too often, he responded even more eagerly than usual.
“You will never guess what I have done – I have a tame rat! I can make it move where I want and see through its eyes. I have been watching the guards, in case they let slip any useful information. Are you pleased? There is so little I can do, but I want to help if I can. Do you think it a clever idea?”

“Yes, very clever. Can you—?”

My awareness snapped back to the room, the polished table, the ring of faces staring at me. One man in particular was glaring at me, red-faced.

“I beg your pardon, Honoured Lord. What did you say?”

“I do not see why I should repeat everything for your benefit. We are about to embark on a war, in case you had not noticed, Most Powerful, and the least we can expect from you is a little of your attention.”

Before I could answer, Yannassia cut in sharply, “The Bai-Drashonor has many calls on her attention just now, all of which are vital for the progress of the war. Which is more than can be said for your concern about pig slurry. Please do
not
repeat it. Ask the mages to deal with the problem. We will move on to the next item, if you please.”

The following sun, Arran was in low spirits.
“My rat was spotted by one of the guards, and killed,”
he confessed.
“I am working on another one, but I shall have to find a safer place for her to watch from. Not that the guards talk about anything interesting, only their female conquests and how much they can drink and how good they are with a sword.”

“Can you send a rat along the corridors, so that you can work out the layout? Just in case you are ever able to escape? And what about the kitchens? There will be rats there, too, and the talk might be more useful.”

“Oh – that is a good idea. I will try. It is good for me to have a project to work on.”

But the following sun, in the middle of a reception for the Icthari ambassador, I heard Arran’s voice, urgent in my head, tinged with fear.

“Drina! Drina! They are taking me somewhere.”
Then, the merest thread in my mind,
“Is this it? Is this the end?”
A long pause.
“I love you, Drina. Goodbye, my little flower.”