Wizards at War, New Millennium Edition (14 page)

It was Roshaun’s name for both his people’s version of the manual—a small sphere of light into which a given wizard gazed—and for the Powers that spoke through it. “The Aethyrs speak to you in a different voice than they do to me,” Nelaid said, “which is perfectly normal. But I must question your interpretation of their position.”

“Royal sire,” Roshaun said, “once you could question that. But you gave up that right when you abdicated as Sunlord in my favor.”

“I remain the ranking Senior on Wellakh,” Roshaun’s father said, “and
that
right of questioning I have not abdicated. You have yet to satisfy me as to how much of this decision is yours.”

And he looked at Dairine.

Dairine instantly flushed so hot that she knew she must be clashing horribly with her dress.

“If you assume I’ve been unduly influenced in my decision, royal sire,” Roshaun said, “you’re in great error.”

“Better believe it,” Dairine said softly. “Paying attention to anything
I
say is hardly one of
his
favorite things.”

Nelaid gave Dairine a look that was genuinely amused. “Forgive me,
hev ke Khallahan,
but I have known my son longer than you have.” He turned back to Roshaun, the look in his eye more challenging now. “It’s the mark of a noble heart to want to help friends in trouble. But when that help distracts you from those you already have a duty to help…” He glanced toward the great barren plain outside, all covered with people.

“Father,” Roshaun said, “staying here in obedience to our people’s insecurities will solve no problem that faces us now. We must not waste precious time doing the same old things; they will not avail us. I will be protecting our people, regardless of how it looks to them.”

“They will not ask you for explanations,” Nelaid said. “They will simply watch what you do. And if they do not like your actions, they will keep their counsel … until one of them finds a way to come at you on some visit to the liveside. An energy weapon, a bomb or a knife, an unguarded moment…” Roshaun’s father shrugged. “Even you must sleep sometimes. As must I. And your mother.”

Roshaun’s eyes were on the throne. “I know the fear you’ve both lived with, all these years,” he said. “The knife that almost took you. The bomb that missed you and nearly took the Queen. Do you think I’m trying to shirk my turn?”

Dairine could feel the slow burn beginning. “Excuse me,” she said to Nelaid, “but in case you haven’t heard, your son put his life on the line to fix our Sun while he was on excursus. He saw the problem with it before any of us did. He helped us design the wizardry to deal with it. And when stuff got rough up there, he walked straight into my star wearing not much more than a force field and a smile. That looks like ‘brave’ to me, so if you’re seriously suggesting he doesn’t have what it takes to deal with being king here—”

Roshaun’s father put up his eyebrows. “You are outspoken,” he said.

“Speaking truth to power,” Dairine said, “is never ‘out.’”

The slightest smile appeared on Nelaid’s face. “There are problems associated with this course of action—”

“Royal sire,” Roshaun said, “
you
were the one who taught me that sometimes, as wizards, we have to make choices that fly in the face of what looks like common sense. ‘Reason is not always everything,’ you’d say. There remains that other voice that speaks, sometimes, in accents we don’t understand. Or understand perfectly well, and violently disagree with.”

“My words exactly,” Roshaun’s father said. “Unusual to hear you agreeing with them. This would not have been your normal mode… before you went away.”

“Nor would it have been your mode to produce so sudden a surprise as your abdication,” Roshaun said, “when I left thinking that everything here was going smoothly, and an excursus would do no harm.”

“Things change,” said the former Sunlord, “as we see.” And once again he looked at Dairine. “You arrive for your people’s first sight of you as Sunlord, and what do they also see, standing at your side? An alien, garbed in raiment much like that of Wellakhit royalty, wearing some other world’s life-color, gemmed like a Guarantor. The rumors are flying already. Does another world have designs on the rule of ours? Either by straightforward conquest, or more intimate means?”

Dairine’s eyes went wide as what he meant sank in. “You mean they think that we—that I—
You tell those people that they are completely nuts!
Even if I were old enough to think about stuff like this, which I seriously am not, I have zero interest in being
anybody’s
queen! Especially not
his
—”

And then Dairine stopped short as she saw the peculiar look that had appeared on both Roshaun’s and Nelaid’s faces.

“Uh,” she said then, and blushed again. “Maybe there was a less tactful way I could have put that…”

That small smile reappeared on Nelaid’s face. “Well,” Nelaid said after a moment, “I perhaps am reassured. But as for our people—”

“Father,” Roshaun said, “you taught me that a wizard turns away from the Aethyrs’ guidance and his heart’s at his peril. Yes, our people may misunderstand either Dhairine’s presence here or the fact that I will now immediately leave. For either eventuality, I’m quite prepared. And when we come home from this errand, perhaps they will assassinate me for what they consider a betrayal. It would not be the first time that kind of thing has happened. Or the last.”

“And, meanwhile, you mean for me to assume the burden of Sunwatch once more, even though I’ve formally laid it down.”

When Roshaun spoke at last, his tone was surprisingly gentle. “You said it yourself, Father,” Roshaun said. “What the Son of the Sun commands is law. As a wizard, you know where
your
duties lie. But if I must—”

Nelaid stood there silently for a few moments. “No,” he said. “A King’s first command should be less painful. I will stand the Watch … though Thahit is once more showing signs of instability.”

“That I saw when I returned,” Roshaun said. “I examined the star briefly a little time ago, while testing the Stone to see if it interfered with my perceptions. The instability is the one we predicted together before I left.”

“What we did
not
predict was the increased acceleration of the stretching effects in space,” Nelaid said. “The sun’s instability is increasing accordingly.”

“I noted that, Father,” Roshaun said. “So while I am gone you must intervene if necessary.” He paused. “That said, I should not be taking this into harm’s way. I prefer that you keep it for me while I am gone.” And Roshaun reached up and started to unfasten the great golden collar around his neck.

Roshaun’s father stood silent for a moment, and then made a sidewise gesture with one hand, which Dairine read as “no.” “Wizardry is the reality at the heart of the Watch, my king,” he said. “I have no need of a mere symbol to do what needs to be done.” The tension in the air fell away very abruptly as Roshaun’s father spoke. “But the Stone makes you king … so its place is with you. If you young ones fail, it will not matter for long whether the Stone is lost or not. We will all follow you into the dark soon enough.”

“And if the star stammers, what of it?” said a voice from the floor.

Startled, the three of them looked down. Spot was regarding Roshaun’s father with several eyes.

“Lean times of barren hope
Wait on the composite’s daughter,
Sharpening the edge of life.”

Spot fell silent. Roshaun and Nelaid exchanged speculative glances.

Dairine felt like swearing. “Couldn’t you have waited half an hour?” she said under her breath, and looked up at Roshaun and his father. “Would you two hold that thought?” She felt down toward where the memo pad should have been, in her jeans pocket… then remembered that there was no pocket there anymore, not to mention no jeans. She let out an annoyed breath. “Spot—”

“What?”

“The notepad!”

“In your claudication, along with everything else that was in your pockets.”

“Thanks.” She reached sideways, pushed her hand into the empty air, and groped around, coming up with the pad and a pen.

Roshaun’s father was looking at Roshaun in mild confusion. “When one has manual access, even in alien idioms,” he said, “can one not usually take notes by—”

Dairine looked up from her scribbling to throw Roshaun’s father a look that should have singed even a Sun King around the edges. “Everything changes—isn’t that what you were just saying? You were right. So don’t rub it in.”

The two Wellakhi looked at Dairine with exactly matching expressions of superior amusement, then turned back toward each other. Nelaid said, “Where will you go now?”

“Dhairine’s associate is affiliated to a species of sentient, wizardly computing devices,” Roshaun said. “Mobiles, they call themselves. Both their reasoning power and their wizardry are tremendous, according to the Aethyrs. We go to consult with them on ways to attack the expansion. Meanwhile, the people outside should be told that I am gone on their business—and the universe’s. I will come back as soon as I can.”

Roshaun’s father held his son’s eye for a few moments, then bowed slightly to him. “As the King commands,” he said. He glanced at Dairine as she finished with her scribbling, nodded to her. “
Dai stihó,
” he said, and with a soft clap of displaced air, he vanished.

Roshaun let out a breath and turned back toward the doors. “Come on,” he said.

Dairine turned, too—and then stopped, hearing footsteps. She paused, looked over her shoulder.

Coming toward them was a woman—not as tall as Roshaun’s father, but so beautiful that the sight of her made Dairine simply stop where she was. She wore the Wellakhit long overtunic and soft trousers, but in flowing hazy blue; and her hair was the original of Roshaun’s, except longer and fairer, and so feathery light that it seemed to float around her as she came toward them. Dairine was immediately devoured by a desire to have hair like that, even though taking care of it would leave her with no time for a social life, and buying the necessary amount of conditioner would destroy her college fund. “Uh,” she said, “Roshaun—”

He had already brushed past her, hurrying. Dairine had never seen Roshaun hurry before. He went straight to the woman, reached out, and took both her outstretched hands and pressed them against his forehead.

The woman smiled and pushed Roshaun a little away. “Are you taller?” she said.

“Motherrrrr…!”
Roshaun said.

She smiled past Roshaun at Dairine. “Roshaun
tekeh,
” she said. “What about your friend?”

“Ah,” Roshaun said. He let go of his mother’s hands and glanced over at Dairine.

She smiled, too, and headed over to them, immediately impressed by anyone who could make Roshaun sound like he wanted to roll his eyes. Roshaun looked at Dairine as he put an arm around his mother and said, “I would make you known to Miril am Miril dev ir Nuiiliat, the Sister of the Sun, the Lady of the Lands of Wellakh. Mother, this is Dhairine ke Khallahan.”

Her smile was so friendly and kind that Dairine was tempted to simply say, “Hi, Roshaun’s mom.” But for the moment she did what Roshaun had done, and took the hand held out to her, pressing it to her forehead.

“You’re very welcome, young wizard,” Lady Miril said in the Speech. “And you also, sir,” she said to Spot, who was peering out from behind Dairine. “I heard you say you were in a hurry, Roshaun, so I won’t keep you.”

“You heard all that?” Dairine said.

“If the Queen of Wellakh doesn’t keep her ears open,” Lady Miril said, “things deteriorate… especially around this one and his father.” She hugged Roshaun a little harder. Roshaun squirmed, but only slightly.

“There was a little, uh…”

“Friction?” said Lady Miril. “Always. These two stalk about in all directions doing good, and then hardly have a kind word for each other. If there’s a way for either of them to rub the other one the wrong way, he’ll find it. And in recent days the intensity of the game has increased somewhat.”

“Mother,” Roshaun said, looking at her with a surprised expression, “you saw all this coming.”

“It hardly takes a wizard to tell what’s going on with your royal sire, my son,” said Lady Miril, “when you’ve known him since
he
was just a badly behaved prince.” She grinned. “And as for
you—
”

Roshaun actually blushed. Lady Miril, though, went quite sober. “But the weariness has been growing on your father, Roshaun. And then while you were away, there was another attempt.”

Roshaun looked at his mother … and then the expression on his face went very strange.

“That was meant for me, was it not?” he said.

“I believe so,” said his mother.

“That was why you wanted me to go on the excursus,” Roshaun said softly. “You wanted me out of the way, on Earth.”

“The thought of a vigorous new power in charge of the planet would annoy some people,” Lady Miril said, glancing at Dairine. “They prefer the status quo to an unknown.”

“And then,” Roshaun said, “Father was caught up in an attack meant for me…” He turned a shade that even for him was pale. “And now, what I just did—”

Was the most idiotic thing I could possibly have done,
Dairine heard Roshaun think.
I have thrown my father straight back into the situation from which he thought he had finally been freed. I have—

Roshaun disentangled himself from Lady Miril. “Mother—” He held a hand out to one side. In it, blinding, appeared the little globe of white fire that was his manual. He slipped his other hand into it, feeling around for something. “We should go.”

“No, royal son,” said Lady Miril, and the fire-globe vanished. “Not in here. If you will be King in name, you must be King in action as well, or you leave your father in greater danger than before. A king does not sneak away. If he leaves, he does so where his people can see him.”

Roshaun looked over at Dairine.

“We can teleport, if you like,” he said.

“I don’t mind the walk,” Dairine said after a moment. “I can use it to compose myself.”

Lady Miril flashed Dairine an amused glance. “When will you be back, Roshaun?”