No formal entertainment had been arranged; instead, various guests of the feast simply stood up on their benches and started a song or performed some colorful magical trick. As the meal progressed and the rassos flowed, these impromptu exhibitions grew more frequent and more boisterous.
Too far from the others to participate in their conversation, Alec looked with envy toward Beka's table. The riders of Urgazhi Turma were mingling sociably with those of the Aurenfaie honor guard. The interpreter, Nyal, was seated beside Beka, and the two looked to be sharing some joke.
Seregil also seemed to be making the best of things. Amali was still ignoring him, but he'd managed to strike up a conversation with several other 'faie. Catching Alec watching, Seregil gave him an amused wave, as if to say, "Be charming and make the best of things."
Alec turned again to his young dining companions.
"You really knew nothing of your 'faie blood?" asked the boy, Mial, after quizzing him pointedly about his family background. "Don't you have any magic?"
"Well, Seregil did teach me a trick with dogs," Alec said, showing him the left-handed sign. "But that's about it."
"Anyone can do that!" scoffed the girl, Makia, who appeared to be about fourteen.
"It's still magic," said her brother, though Alec had the impression he was merely being polite.
"I always just thought of it as a trick," Alec admitted. "None of the wizards we know seem to think I have any real magic in me."
"They're Tirfaie," Makia scoffed. "Watch this."
Furrowing her brow, she scowled down at her plate. Three olive pits slowly rose into the air and hung unsteadily in front of her face for a moment before clattering back to the table. "And I'm only twenty-two!"
"Twenty-two?" Alec turned to Mial in surprise. "And you?" The young Aurenfaie grinned. "Thirty. How old are you?" "Almost nineteen," Alec replied, suddenly feeling a bit strange. Mial stared at him a moment, then nodded. "It's the same with some of our half-breed cousins; you mature much faster at first. You might want to keep your age to yourself once you get over the mountains, though. The purer clans don't understand ya'shel the way we do here. The last thing your talimenios needs is another scandal."
Alec felt his face go warm. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
"You are to advise Princess Klia on the western clans, I understand?" Amali a Yassara remarked, addressing Seregil directly for the first time.
Seregil looked up from his dessert to find her studying him coolly. "I hope to be of service to both our lands."
"And you do not think their request was in part motivated by the possibility that your presence would elicit strong reactions in certain quarters?"
Klia smiled at Seregil over the rim of her cup; blunt speech was considered a sign of goodwill in Aurenen. After all his years of intrigue in Skala, however, it was going to take some getting used to.
"The thought did occur to me," Seregil replied, adding pointedly, "However, as Lord Torsin opposed my inclusion for the very same reasons, I doubt that was their aim."
"Despite the errors of his youth, I can assure you that Seregil is a man of honor," Klia interjected calmly. He kept his eyes on his dessert dish as she went on.
"I've known him all my life, and he's been invaluable to my mother. No doubt you have heard that it was he and Alec who found the remains of Corruth i Glamien while uncovering a plot against the Skalan throne? I'm sure I don't have to explain to you the effect that discovery has had on relations between our two countries. If not for that, I might not be sitting here with you now, nor would Skalan ships be riding at anchor in this harbor again after all these years."
Riagil saluted her with his cup. "I begin to see why your mother entrusted you with this mission, Klia a Idrilain.
"I do not doubt what you say of him, or disparage his good works," Amali said, apparently content to speak again as if Seregil were not there. "But if he is still 'faie in his heart, then he knows that one cannot change the past."
"Yet may not one's past be forgiven?" Klia countered. When the question went unanswered, she turned to Riagil. "What do you think his reception will be at Sarikali?"
The khirnari gave Seregil a thoughtful look, then replied, "I think that he should keep his friends close by."
A warning or a threat? wondered Seregil, unable to discern the sentiment behind the man's bland words. As the evening wore on, he often looked up to find Riagil watching him with that same enigmatic look—not smiling, but not cold, either.
After the meal people wandered among the tables, sharing wine and conversation.
Seregil was just looking about for Alec when he felt an arm around his waist.
"Torsin was right about her, wasn't he?" Alec muttered, nodding slightly in Amali a Yassara's direction.
"It's atui," Seregil replied with a loose shrug.
"She also fears the effect you'll have on the Iia'sidra," Nyal said behind them.
Seregil rounded on the eavesdropper with poorly concealed annoyance. "It seems to be the prevailing attitude."
"Princess Klia's success means a great deal to the Akhendi," the Ra'basi observed. "I doubt she would judge your past so harshly if it did not pose a threat to her own interests."
"You seem to know much about her."
"As I told you, I am a traveler. One learns much that way." Bowing politely, he wandered off into the crowd.
Seregil watched him go, then exchanged a dark look with Alec. "Remarkable hearing that man has."
The gathering gradually tapered off as restless children disappeared into the shadows beyond the trees and their elders made their farewells to the Skalans. Released from social obligations at last, Alec had retreated to the company of Beka and her riders. When Seregil rose at last to take his leave, however, Riagil stayed him with a gesture.
"Do you remember the moon garden court?" asked the khirnari. "As I recall, it was a favorite haunt of yours."
"Of course." .
"Would you care to see it again?"
"Very much, Khirnari," Seregil replied, wondering where this unexpected overture would lead.
They walked in silence through the warren of dwellings to a small courtyard at the far side of the enclosure. Unlike the other gardens, where colored blossoms contrasted vividly against sun-baked walls, this place was made for the meditations of the night. It was filled with every sort of white flower, medicinal herb, and silvery-leafed plant, banked like drifted snow in beds along paths paved with black slate. Even under the waning crescent that rode the stars tonight, the blossoms glowed in the darkness. Overhead, tubular paper kites with calligraphy-covered streamers rustled on wires, breathing their painted prayers on the night breeze.
The two men stood quietly awhile, admiring the perfection of the place.
Presently Riagil let out a long sigh. "I once carried you sleeping to your bed from here. It seems not so long ago."
Seregil winced. "I'd be mortified if any of my Tir companions heard you say that."
"We are not Tir, you and I," Riagil said, his face lost for a moment in shadow. "Yet I see now that you've grown strange among them, older than your years."
"I always was. Perhaps it runs in the family. Look at Adzriel, a khirnari already."
"Your eldest sister is a remarkable woman. Akaien i Solun was glad enough to hand the title to her as soon as she was of age. But be that as it may, the Iia'sidra will still perceive you as a stripling, and the queen as a fool for employing you as an emissary."
"If I've learned anything among the Tir, it's the value of being underestimated."
"Some might interpret that as a lack of honor."
"It's better to lack the semblance of honor but possess it than to possess the semblance and lack the honor."
"What a unique point of view," Riagil murmured, surprising Seregil with a smile. "Still, it has its merits. Adzriel brought favorable news of you from Rhiminee. Seeing you today among your companions, I believe her hopes are justified."
He paused,
his face serious again. "You are a sort of two-edged blade, my boy, and as such will I employ you. Gedre has slowly withered since the Edict was imposed, like a vine whose roots are cut. It is the same for Akhendi, who shared in the trade through our
port. Klia must succeed if we are to survive as we are. Trade with the north must be reestablished. Whatever the Iia'sidra decides, let your princess know what Gedre will support her cause."
"She has no doubt of that," Seregil assured him.
"Thank you. I shall sleep more peacefully tonight. Let me leave you with this." Riagil drew a sealed parchment from his belt and handed it to him. "It is from your sister. Welcome home, Seregil i Korit."
Seregil's throat tightened painfully at the sound of his true name. Before he could reply, Riagil tactfully withdrew, leaving him alone with the soft rustle of the kites.
He rubbed a thumb over the tree and dragon imprint in the wax, imagining his father's heavy seal ring on his sister's slender finger. Prying the wax up with a thumbnail, he unfolded the sheet.
Adzriel had tucked a few dried wandril flowers into the letter. Crushing the faded red petals between his fingers, he inhaled their spicy scent as he read.
"Welcome home, dear brother," the letter began, "for so I address you in my heart even if it is forbidden elsewhere. My heart breaks that I cannot yet claim you openly as kin. When we meet, know that it is circumstance that prevents me, not coldness on my part. Instead, I thank you for undertaking this most painful and dangerous task.
"Asking for your inclusion was no sudden inspiration. The first glimmer of it was already in my mind during our all-too-brief reunion that night in Rhiminee. Aura's blessings on Nysander's poor khi that he told me of your true work. Take care for the safety of our kinswoman, and may Aura guard you until we embrace again at Sarikali. I have so much to tell you, Haba.—Adzriel"
Haba.
The tightness in his throat returned as he reread the precious letter, committing it to memory.
"At Sarikali," he whispered to the kites.
9
Into Aurenen
The sound of small wings woke Seregil the next morning. Opening his eyes, he saw a chukaree perched on the windowsill, its green plumage shining like Bry'kha enamel work as it preened its stubby tail. He willed it to drop a feather, but it had no gift for him today; with a liquid trill, it fluttered away.
Judging by the brightness of the window, they'd overslept. The distant jangling of harness warned that Beka's riders were already making ready to go.
Yet he lay quiet a moment longer, savoring the feeling of Alec's warm body still wound contentedly around his own, and the comfort of a proper bed. They'd made good use of it, he thought with sleepy satisfaction.
His fragile sense of peace slipped away all too quickly. The coat thrown carelessly over a chair caught his eye like an accusation, bringing with it the memory of Torsin's words and those of Riagil. As the khirnari had so succinctly pointed out, life among the Tir had forced him to grow up far more quickly than the friends he'd left behind. He'd known more of death and violence, intrigue and passion than most 'faie twice his age. How many of the youngsters he'd played with had killed anyone, let alone the uncounted numbers he had in his years as Watcher, thief, and spy?
He stroked the arm draped over his chest, smoothing the fine golden hairs. Most 'faie his age hadn't even left the family hearth yet, much less made such a bond with anyone.
Who am I?
The question, so easy to ignore all those years in Rhiminee, was staring him in the face now.
Sounds of morning activity grew louder outside their window. Sighing regretfully, he ran a finger down the bridge of Alec's nose. "Wake up, tali."
"Morning already?" Alec mumbled blearily.
"There's no fooling you, is there? Come, it's time to move on."
The central courtyard was filled with people and horses. Urgazhi and Akhendi riders were busy loading a string of packhorses; others were gathered around smoking braziers where Gedre cooks were serving a hasty breakfast. Nyal clearly had his hands full, Seregil thought, watching the man with growing dislike.
"It's about time!" Beka called, seeing them. "Klia's looking for you. You'd better grab something to eat with us while you can."
"No one woke us," Seregil muttered, wondering if the slight had been intentional.
Begging fry bread and sausage at the nearest brazier, he and Alec ate as they wandered among the riders, picking up details.
Two of Mercalle's six remaining riders, Ari and Marten, were remaining behind with Corporal Zir to serve as dispatch couriers, carrying messages that would come by ship from Skala. The others would do the same from Sarikali.
Braknil was short a few riders as well; Orandin and Adis had been too badly burned at sea to continue and had remained aboard the Zyria for the return voyage.
The remaining members of Urgazhi Turma seemed out of sorts.
"Did you hear?" Tare grumbled to Alec. "We have to ride blindfolded parts of the way, for hell's sake!"
"It's always been that way for foreigners, even before the Edict," Seregil told him. "Only the Aurenfaie and Dravnian tribesmen who live in the mountains can pass over freely."
"How are we supposed to get over a mountain pass blind?" Nikides muttered.
"I'll just move my patch over to my good eye," Steb offered with a grin.
"He won't let you come to any harm, Corporal," Seregil assured Nikides, pointing to the Akhendi clansman sitting his horse nearby. "It would blemish his honor."
Nikides glowered at his escort. "I'll be sure to beg his pardon when I'm falling to my death."
"He's worried about falling," Alec explained to the Akhendi.
"He can ride double with me," the man offered, patting his horse's rump.
Nikides scowled, needing no interpreter. "I'll manage."
The man shrugged, "He can suit himself, but at least get him to accept this." Pulling a piece of wild gingerroot from a belt pouch, he tossed it to Nikides, who examined it distrustfully. "And tell him my name is Vanos."
"Some get queasy riding blind," Seregil explained. "Chew this if you do. And you might thank Vanos here for the consideration."
"The word is 'chypta'," Alec added helpfully.
Nikides turned rather sheepishly to his escort and held up the root. "Chypta."
"You welkin," Vanos replied with a friendly grin.
"Looks like they'll have lots to talk about," Alec chuckled. "Hope you brought some of that root for me."
Seregil took a piece from a wallet at his belt and presented it to him. "A disgrace to one talimenios is a disgrace to both. It would reflect poorly on me if you showed up covered in puke. And don't worry, most of the time you'll ride with your eyes open."
Riding to the head of the column, they fell in behind Klia and her hosts.
"My friends, we now begin the last leg of your long journey," Riagil announced. "It's a well-traveled route, but there are dangers. First among these are the young dragons, those larger than a lizard but smaller than an ox. Should you meet with one, be still and avert your eyes. Under no circumstances must you hunt or attack them."
"And if they attack first?" Alec whispered, recalling what Seregil had told them aboard the Zyria.
Seregil motioned him to silence.
"The youngest ones, fingerlings we call them, are fragile creatures," Riagil continued. "If you kill one by accident, you must undergo several days purification. To willfully kill one invokes the curse of its brethen, and brings that curse on your clan unless your people see to it that you are punished.
"Any animal that speaks is sacred and must not be harmed or
hunted. These are the khtir'bai, inhabited by the khi of great wizards and rhui'auros."
"If we're not supposed to harm anything, why are you all armed?" Alec asked one of their escort, who carried bows and longswords.
"There are other dangers," he told him. "Rock lions, wolves, sometimes even teth'brimash."
"
Teth' what?"
"People cut off from their clan for some dishonor," Seregil explained. "Some of them turn outlaw."
"I'm honored to guide you," Riagil concluded. "You are the first Tir to visit Sarikali in centuries. Aura grant that this be the first of many journeys shared by our people."
The road into the mountains started out broad and level, but as it left the foothills and twisted along the edge of a jagged precipice, Alec began to share Nikides's doubts about riding blind. Looking up, he could see the gleam of snow still clinging to the sides of peaks.
Seregil had other concerns.
"I'd say a bond was forming there, wouldn't you?" he asked under his breath, his expression neutral as he nodded slightly toward Beka and the interpreter.
"He's a handsome man, and a friendly one." Alec rather liked the garrulous Ra'basi, in spite of Seregil's reservations. For Beka's sake, he hoped that his friend's celebrated intuition was off its mark this time. "How old would you say he is?"
Seregil shrugged. "Eighty or so."
"Not so old for her, then," Alec observed.
"By the Light, don't go marrying them off yet!"
"Who said anything about marriage?" Alec teased.
Beka waved and rode over to them. "I've been bragging up your archer's skills all morning, Alec."
"Is this the famous Black Radly?" Nyal asked.
Alec passed the bow to him, and Nyal ran a hand over its long limbs of polished black yew.
"I've never seen a finer one, or such wood. Where does it comes from?"
"A town called Wolde, up in the northlands beyond Mycena." Alec showed him the maker's mark scrimshawed on the ivory arrow plate: a yew tree with the letter R woven into its upper branches.
"Beka tells me you destroyed a dyrmagnos with it. I've heard legends of these monstrous beings! What did it look like?"
"A dried corpse with living eyes," Alec replied, suppressing a shudder of revulsion at the memory. "I only struck the first blow, though. It took more than that to destroy her."