Binding more thralls?
That, and he can’t go into the basilica. It’s blessed ground.
The giant Sergeant-Major stood, still befuddled, at the back door in the dark vestibule near the entrance to the nave, the largest part of the basilica, where the faithful stood or sat during services. He kicked his toe through the debris left behind from the funeral, scattered feathers that had been used in the ceremony by the congregation to help speed the Patriarch’s soul to the Light, soiled with mudfilth from the soles of ten thousand feet amid a sea of candle drippings and torn flower petals. Idly he wondered if any of the ashes from the Patriarch’s body, set alight on the great brazier that had been erected on the altar, were mixed in with the grime that marred the beautifully crafted mosaics on the floor beneath his boots.
Achmed looked over his shoulder for the fifth time, assuring himself that he was indeed still alone in the vast cathedral, then reluctantly made his way down one of the main aisles to the sanctuary where the pyre-altar stood atop a platform above a great number of stairs. Outside the cathedral the bells of the enormous tower known as the Spire were tolling the endless death knell. When he reached the foot of the stairs he stopped, then cleared his throat nervously in the haze of smoke that still hung heavy in the air.
“I hate priests,” he said aloud, his eyes fixed on the coals that had gone dark after being doused with holy water. He stared at the funeral brazier, from which a tendril of smoke rose questioningly.
Achmed rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke in the direction of the smoldering pile of brush and ash.
“I came to say that—I regret the way things came to pass,” he said quietly. “I would have avoided it if there was any other way.”
The cathedral echoed with silence except for the reverberations from the endlessly tolling bells.
“Your death saved her life. Though we never met, given the choice, I think you would have wanted it that way, too.”
A sudden wave of discomfort flooded Achmed; he turned rapidly on his heel and hurried back down the aisle toward the shadowy vestibule. When he was almost at the end he turned once more to where the altar was now enveloped in darkness.
“Bye, Father,” he said.
63
Tyrian
Her workout at the lists that morning had been particularly tiring, and Rhapsody had embraced her bath with thankfulness. She came into her bedchamber, refreshed and dressed in one of the simple, artful gowns the Lirin seamstresses had fashioned for her. The clothing was a pleasure to wear, causing the body to feel unrestricted and light, and the color matched her eyes perfectly.
With a deep sigh she fell back onto the bed and stared up at the graceful engilder trees that served as bedposts, to their intertwined branches that served to form the canopy, lacy leaves casting sunlit shadows in dancing patterns on the bed and over her. The fire roared on the hearth, driving the chill from the room and warming the trees, keeping them in a false state of summer, even in winter.
In the courtyard below she heard the echoing sounds of distant commotion, and she rose and moved to the window, wiping away the frost and looking to see what was happening. Far off at the edge of the palace walls she could see amid a vast number of Lirin guards a large cavalcade of visitors forming an uneven line. The line swelled and grew larger as more joined, jostling and laughing, spiced with the occasional sound of argumentative confrontation. Their noise was unmuffled by the cold; steaming vapors rose from the distant conversations.
Rhapsody drew a soft cloak around herself, pulled on her boots, and left her chambers, seeking Rial, now her viceroy and chief advisor. Over the short time of her reign she had come to rely on him almost exclusively to explain the intricacies of the court, and advise her in matters of state. She was confident he would know what was going on.
She found him near the wall, very close to the convocation, watching grimly as guards and palace clerks catalogued the visitors and the items they seemed, without exception, to have brought with them. She slipped up next to him and touched him on the sleeve.
“Rial, what on Earth is going on?”
Rial turned to her and quickly took her arm, steering her hurriedly away from the crowd. They walked until they came to the curved wall of the guard tower. When they were out of sight of the throng he took her hand and kissed it.
“Good morning, m’lady.” He smiled down at her, his elderly face wrinkling into the kind expression Rhapsody had grown fond of. “I thought you were away on the practice fields.” His breath formed an icy cloud in the air between them.
“I was, but there’s only so much physical abuse I can take; Hiledraithe and Kelstrom took particular pleasure in beating me into submission today. What’s happening? Who are these people?”
Rial sighed. “Suitors, Your Majesty.”
“Suitors? Suitors for whom? I thought you told me that the Lirin did not have a marriage lottery, that women were free to choose their own mates.”
“They are, Your Majesty. These men are suing for your hand, or they are emissaries of lords who are.”
Rhapsody walked to the edge of the tower and peeked around. The line had grown even fuller, and the boisterous sounds were becoming deafening.
“You must be joking,” she said, staring at the crowd. “There are scores of them.”
“Hundreds, actually, I would guess. I am very sorry, m’lady. I had hoped to spare you the sight of them.”
Rhapsody’s face clouded over in dismay. “I don’t understand, Rial; why are they here, on such a cold day especially? I didn’t say I was seeking a suitor, did I?”
Rial offered her his arm; as she took it he led her back to the palace. “No, Rhapsody, but they are insidious. Normally within the first year we would have expected to see some of them, seeking to ally themselves with Tyrian by means of a marriage of state. Usually the first to arrive are the lords of the elder Lirin houses, since they have the early word when a new monarch is crowned; it was thus with Queen Terrell in the old times.
“My father was a page in those days and he described the scene to me often. Apparently a dozen or so of them came to the palace wall and waited all night after her coronation. The place was abuzz with excitement for days.
“That, however, cannot begin to compare to this. Many more of them out there are not Lirin. They are regents of other lands, some as far away as the Hintervold; undoubtedly they are looking to bind their kingdoms to yours. But if you would permit me to guess, I would say that word of you has spread for other reasons. I think it has more to do with you personally than with a desire to rule over Tyrian.”
“What do you mean? None of these people know me; at least I don’t see anyone I recognize.”
Rial chucked. He was becoming used to her view of herself, and it amused him. “I think it’s possible that there are some things about you that might cause the word to spread faster than it normally would.”
Rhapsody shuddered. “What are they bringing with them? Is it a brideprice?”
“Not exactly. They are gifts of state, similar to the others that came upon your coronation, but of greater worth. Traditionally, when you choose a mate, his gift is put on display in the Great Hall as a means of announcement. The others become part of your treasury, and Tyrian’s. So you can imagine the competition that exists, trying to assure that a gift will suitably impress you, and will showcase the wealth of the suitor’s lands, and his personal taste, to their best advantages.”
Rhapsody’s face was becoming somber. “Return them, please, Rial, and send these men away. I don’t want to entertain any suitors at this time.”
As they entered the palace rotunda Rial stopped and took both of her hands, looking seriously into her face. “I’d advise against that, Your Majesty,” he said gently, trying not to upset her. “It would be perceived as a great insult. A better way is to accept the gifts and catalogue the requests, as the clerks are doing. Then they will return to their lands and await your invitation to those whose courts
hip you are willing to entertain. This way your desires can be accommodated, and the army will only have to fend off one or so at a time if they should become impatient.”
Even in the light of the roaring flames of the great hearth Rial could see her face go pale. “What do you mean? Are you saying they might attack Tyrian if I don’t accept suit?”
Rial stopped a page as she ran by. “Bring Her Majesty some cider, please,” he said; the girl nodded and left. He brought the queen closer to the fire and sat with her on the wide bench before the hearth.
“It’s always possible that, until you choose to marry and remove the possibility for other alliances, some of the regents will try and test your resolve by means of force. Do not worry, m’lady. This is unlikely, at least for a while, and the Lirin army, now that you have united all the factions, is a match for all of them.
“You not only have the loyalty of the soldiers, you have their hearts as well, and they will gladly protect your right to choose your time and your mate. Tyrian is a nightmare for invaders, and the casualties on their side will far outstrip our own. Someone will need to have a serious desire to make an issue of it before they will attempt to broach the forest. So please don’t let it trouble you. Take your time; it’s an important decision, and one I mean to see that you are able to make in peace.” The page returned with a heavy goblet and offered it to her. Rhapsody accepted it numbly.
With a polite gesture Rial dismissed the page, then looked into the face of the queen. He watched, fascinated, as the unguarded luster in her eyes receded and her face hardened into a resolute mask. She lifted the goblet and took a sip.
“I will follow your guidance, as always, Rial,” she said steadily. “When you have a chance, please send a messenger to my offices. I have a missive I need to send.”
That was a marvelous meal,” Anborn said, finishing the last of his wine and setting the goblet on the table. He cast a glance around the balcony at the bare, glistening trees that rose above the ornately carved railing. The day was brisk, but dining outside on the balcony had been pleasant, a refreshing change from the heavy smoke of the winter fires.
He was glad that he had responded in such a timely fashion to Rhapsody’s invitation. Generally he made the issuers of such requests wait, just to be obnoxious. But he was pleased to have a chance to see her alone and assess her health and state of mind, which had been impossible to do at her coronation. She seemed much better than he could have imagined she would be after her experience in Sorbold and the forest, but then, she had been to the Rowans, and had undoubtedly passed far more time there than the rest of the world had marked.
When she had greeted him she was wearing the diadem, and he was fascinated to see it hovering above her head, whirling in a blazing halo of tiny starlike gems, transformed, it seemed, into glistening points of light. Once they had been left alone, however, she had removed it, and now was crowned only by her own resplendent hair, braided in the intricate patterns that none but skilled Lirin hands could weave. She was splendid lunchtime company, entertaining him with amusing stories and laughing unabashedly at his rude jokes. Even so, there was a reserve about her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint; it was as if a piece of her were missing.
When the meal was finished she leaned forward, fixing him with as direct a look as he had ever seen.
“I was wondering if we might discuss something with the understanding that it’s theoretical; that I’m proffering ideas to gauge your thoughts, but that neither of us is bound in any way by the discussion.”
Anborn wiped his mouth with the linen napkin and laid it, folded, beside his plate. “Of course. What do you want to discuss?” He was intrigued by the look in her eyes; in previous meetings he had been struck by the remarkable openness of her face. Now her expression was guarded, and her bearing was even and cool, almost detached. Though her earlier beauty was enhanced by the excitement and mirth that shone in those eyes, there was an elegance and distance to her now that he found even more interesting.
“I was wondering if you ever contemplated marrying again,” she asked, looking at him levelly.
“No,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, if it is a possibility open for discussion, I would like to talk about it.”
Anborn leaned back in his chair, intrigued. “I’m willing to talk about anything you’d like, m’lady,” he said, smiling slightly. “Please, by all means tell me what’s on your mind.”
“If it’s not too unpleasant a concept to you, I wonder if you would consider marriage to me,” she said, still watching him keenly.
A small laugh escaped him, and he coughed into his hand as he sat forward. “Sorry; I was just hearing the deafening sound of millions of hearts breaking all over the world. Did I hear you correctly? Are you proposing to me?”
“Not yet,” Rhapsody said calmly. “As I said, I am gauging your interest. If you recall, we are discussing this openly with no obligations, right?”
“Right, of course,” Anborn replied, settling back in his chair. “Well, on first consideration, let’s say I’m intrigued. What would this entail? Why would you want to marry me?”
Rhapsody moved her plate out of the way and rested her arms, crossed, on the table before her. “Well, I suppose the answer to that comes in two parts; why do I want to marry, and why you. First, why do I want to marry: I don’t, actually. I would prefer not to, but then I would prefer not to be Queen of the Lirin, either. I don’t seem to have much choice in either matter.” Anborn nodded, pleased by her candor.
“Unfortunately, since this has taken place I have been besieged by requests from the rulers of other lands seeking to parlay about a marriage of state. I have no desire to expand the lands of Tyrian, nor do I wish to be involved in the politics that would entail. I am also aware, however, that to remain a female ruler alone would be to invite constant testing of my resolve and the strength of my reign. I don’t have the patience for that, nor the willingness to let anyone be injured or killed defending my honor for such a stupid reason. Therefore, I am resigned to the fact that I have to marry.”
A fragment of a smile crept into the considered expression Anborn was wearing. “Somehow that doesn’t seem like you, my dear,” he said dryly. “I would have wagered a considerable sum that you would make a lioness’s stand to the end against such threats.”
“You would be a far poorer man, then.” All traces of pleasantry disappeared from Rhapsody’s face. She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting off the memory of the wyrm that slept within the bowels of the Earth. The vast tunnel wall she had once leaned against had been but a scale in its immense skin, its flesh a substantial part of the Earth’s mass now. When she had banished the thought she opened her eyes again and looked directly at Anborn once more.
“Let us not mince words, General. We both know that war is coming; it draws closer with every passing moment. And while you have seen war firsthand, I have seen the adversary—or at least one of them. We will need everything we have, everything, to merely survive its awakening, let alone defeat it. I will waste neither the blood nor the time of the Lirin fending off a martial challenge over something so stupid as my betrothal. A marriage of convenience is an insignificant price to pay to keep Tyrian safe and at peace for as long as possible. We will need every living soul when the time comes. You once asked me if I was sworn to Llauron. I am sworn to the Lirin—I will do whatever I have to do to keep them safe, no matter how much it costs me.”
Anborn spun the stem of his wine goblet between his fingers, then nodded as his smile broadened. He raised the glass in a silent toast, drank quickly, then nodded as he set it down again.
“Pray continue.”
“Now, why might I ask you to be the one: you don’t love me, and I don’t want you to. I doubt that you ever will. I hope you won’t be offended when I say that while I feel affectionately toward you, and might someday even be deeply fond of you, I don’t think I could fall in love with you, either. That makes a marria
ge between us practical, and free from many of the problems that normally accompany the state.
“There is very little that I would ask of you: that you not embarrass me, or try to harm me or the Lirin people. Other than that, I make no demands. I don’t expect you to be faithful to me, although I would appreciate your discretion. Of course, I would expect to have your loyalty in other matters. You would be free to come and go as you please.”
“Interesting,” said Anborn.
“Now, to the benefits. For me, aside from the beforementioned freedom from pursuit, I would have a husband I respect and like and whose reputation would frighten off potential problems. For you, I can’t say what the benefits are. The Lirin army would be available in times of your need, though I would not commit them for unethical actions. There is some wealth and social stature to be had, even though obviously you are not without your own.
“Perhaps the reasons for you are not as strong as they are for me, and it might come down to doing me a favor. But you’d always have a place to come home to where you are welcome, honored, and appreciated. I would do the best I could to be good company and not to make demands of you. Anyway, that’s what I am thinking. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Several.”
“By all means, please ask.”
“Well, let’s see, what first—are children an expectation of yours?”
“No. Are they for you?”
“No. Actually, I prefer not.”
“I might, in fact, adopt one from time to time, but I think that would be seen as my child only, not yours. The Lirin are very understanding of this kind of thing.”
“I have no problem with that.”
“Very well. What else?”
“What about, er, conjugal relations? Is that a part of this agreement?”
Rhapsody didn’t blink, and her face remained serene. “That would be your decision,” she said. “If it is an expectation of yours, it would be met. If not, that would be fine as well.” She smiled, and a hint of her old humor sparkled in her eyes. “I believe you have seen enough to make an informed decision about this.”