The Merchant Emperor (The Symphony of Ages)

  Gwydion ap Llauron ap Gwylliam, tuatha d’Anwynan o Manosse.

  The image faded, then, a moment later, a new one took its place.

  In a slightly brighter evening shadow at the western end of the continent, beneath an open sky, Rhapsody caught sight of red-gold hair, gleaming in the remains of the day’s light as the sun slipped below the rim of the world through the trees of the forest surrounding the palace fortress of Highmeadow.

  Ashe was standing on the balcony of the central building of the complex, staring east, the fading light behind him ringing him in luminance. His beard was gone, and at first she almost didn’t recognize his face; there was a sharpness to his features that she could see even in the hazy light of the instrumentality. He no longer appeared unkempt, but there was something different she could not quite place; it was as if she was staring at a stranger in the clothes of her husband.

  She swallowed the knot that had tied itself in her throat.

  “Good evening, my love,” she said. Her voice caught in the tightness of her larynx and came out in a hoarse whisper.

  Ashe started, then glanced around until his eyes found what must have been a very diffuse image of her, hovering outside the railing of the balcony. He smiled slightly.

  Good evening to you, too, my love. Hello, Meridion, pippin.

  “How was your day?” The words sounded inane even to her own ears.

  Ashe’s smile faded. I have done as you asked, Aria. I have passed along my Right of Command to Gwydion, at least that part of it entrusted with holding the continent for the Alliance.

  Rhapsody’s eyes gleamed. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

  Her husband appeared as if he were considering her question.

  Lighter. And yet still worried as I prepare to leave. There have been some very awful days this week, but I will spare you the details for the sake of time. How are you both?

  “We are well,” Rhapsody said. Inside she flinched. How much more well can one be, after surviving one’s own assassination attempt? she thought, then turned the still-sleeping Meridion toward Ashe and held him as close to the undulating image of her husband as she could. “Can you see him?”

  The Lord Cymrian’s smile returned, and for the moment Rhapsody saw her husband again.

  Yes. He’s beautiful, Aria. Why is he scowling?

  Rhapsody sighed.

  “He does that sometimes in his sleep,” she said. “But he may also be sulking; we had a bit of an argument this evening.”

  Oh? Over what?

  “I have been trying to wean him a little, to get him to take milk from a special waterskin. To say he doesn’t like it much would be a tremendous understatement.”

  Who could blame him? Ashe said humorously. That’s my boy. The smile left his eyes. Why did you decide to wean him, Aria? Is his growing demand exhausting you?

  Rhapsody swallowed again.

  “No,” she said as directly as she could. “I am taking him to the Nain.”

  Ashe blinked in surprise; Rhapsody could see the dragonesque pupils, now more prominent than she remembered, reappear after his eyes opened again.

  To the Nain? Why?

  She steeled herself, then plunged ahead.

  “To be hidden there. It’s no longer safe for him here in Ylorc. Talquist is in pursuit of him through many terrible means, Sam. For all it may seem that his primary intent is to take the Middle Continent, believe me when I tell you that his real targets are in the Bolglands. I am leaving tomorrow, with Gyllian, Krinsel, Analise, and Melly. We will be traveling by night, and mostly within the mountains, so we will be as safe as it is possible for us to be. I am going to beg a boon of Faedryth: his protection of Meridion. I believe, in spite of our disagreements over the Lightcatcher, he will not deny me his fealty. Between the army of the Nain, the River of Fire and Witheragh, the dragon who guards it, as well as the defenses of that distant kingdom, there is no place where our son will be better hidden. I am telling you because if something should happen to me, you need to know where he is, that he is safe, at least as safe as I now can make him.”

  The steadiness in Ashe’s eyes disappeared, replaced by a similar gleam to Rhapsody’s own.

  The gleam of near-madness.

  What terrible means? he demanded, the multitonal ring of the dragon in his voice. What has happened, Aria?

  “Nothing that Achmed has not been able to rebuff, but I don’t want to take any chances with the baby,” she said quickly. “And please, be on guard against potential assassins—apparently Talquist has signed contracts with every guild imaginable, and every major Cymrian leader or figure is targeted. Gwydion is at risk, as is Tristan—please, please be careful, Sam.”

  Let them find me in the sea, the Lord Cymrian spat, smoke seeming to emerge from his blazing eyes. Let them come after me, wherever I am. Have they made an attempt against you?

  “Yes,” she admitted, “but as you can see, it was unsuccessful.”

  And is this why you are weaning our child? Because you believe the next one will be successful?

  Rhapsody willed herself to be calm at the panic and ire that rose in her husband’s voice.

  “Of course not,” she said, struggling to keep her own voice steady. “He needs to be able to take nourishment from someone other than me when I leave him.”

  Leave him? Ashe demanded. What do mean, leave him? You are not planning to stay with him in the kingdom of the Nain?

  Rhapsody shook her head, trying not to meet his eyes.

  Look at me, the Lord Cymrian commanded. What are you planning, then, Aria?

  “I am the Iliachenva’ar,” she said quietly, raising her eyes and meeting his glare. “I am needed in battle, especially once you have gone after reinforcements in Gaematria and Manosse, and especially in Tyrian.” She saw the cords stand out in his neck, a sign of utter fury, an indication that the dragon within his blood was rising, readying a rampage.

  And it angered her.

  “Gwydion ap Llauron, stop,” she commanded in return, in the ringing tones of her Namer status. “Quell your rage; there isn’t time for it.”

  Ashe blinked again, this time in shock. The tone of her voice was as regal and excoriating as he had ever heard it. The dragon slunk away at the sound of it, cooling his wrath for the moment.

  “Before you question my decision, please try to imagine what it has and will cost me,” Rhapsody continued tersely. “After all the ways I have fought for this child, from convincing you of the wisdom of having him in the first place, to surviving what I have to protect him, do you think for a bloody moment that I would leave my baby for any reason if there was any other choice?”

  I do not doubt—

  “Be silent and listen. One blessing so far is that it seems Talquist does not know the baby’s name; he only seeks him, as far as we know, as the Child of Time. But he does know who his parents are; have you had to interdict any Sorbold cohorts at Haguefort or Highmeadow?”

  Even as filmy as the image of Ashe was, Rhapsody could see his face go pale in the light.

  Yes. At the beginning, right after you left for Ylorc. It was the beginning of the actual war.

  Rhapsody nodded slightly. “At the moment, hiding as I have been, I am more of a danger to him than a suitable protector of him. If it’s not enough that Talquist apparently has scrying relics of his own, he is allied with the Diviner, and is in league with the titan, who is the host of a F’dor that is seeking to find the Sleeping Child. On top of coping with his assassins, your accursed grandmother is out there somewhere, injured and furious, looking to destroy me. She has already broached the mountain once, Ashe—she torched Elysian, reducing it to rubble. Can you imagine what would happen to Meridion if and when she finds me? If he is in my arms? If I am nursing him?”

  Her tirade ground to a halt as Ashe began to tremble.

  Pain and guilt swam through her, leaving her cold and shaking herself. Her heart stung at the horror she knew her words had caused her husband, an
d she took a deep breath, willing herself calm again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry, Ashe. I did not mean to frighten you.”

  Too late.

  In her arms, the baby began to squirm.

  “Please, please don’t be afraid,” she said, cradling the child and trying to impart comfort to her husband through her words and her eyes. “I have pondered the situation endlessly, have in fact used the Lightcatcher to confirm my belief. Constantin has imbued it with some of the lore of the Ring of Wisdom; I know of no better resource to consult. It was folly to believe that each of the elemental swords is not needed to be in the fray; the best way for me to protect my son—our son—is to do everything that I can to help you end this conflict. Anborn tried to keep me out of the war as long as he could, but now that he is engaged in battle, and you are leaving, I must help your namesake prosecute the war for the Alliance until you get back. But not until the baby is safely hidden away. He will have Krinsel and Analise with him, as well as Gyllian, who will support my plea to Faedryth. And Melisande will be safer as well.”

  Ashe nodded, subdued. Well, that will help ease Gwydion’s mind, I am certain.

  Rhapsody exhaled again. When she spoke, her voice was gentle.

  “Hopefully it will ease the mind of both my Gwydions. Just as you are leaving some of your Right of Command with Gwydion Navarne, so I am planning to leave much of myself—the soul I share with you—with our son. If he is to remember me, remember us, remember the love of which he was born, I will need to give him everything, everything, Sam. Just as you are leaving the lordship with Gwydion, I will need to leave my true name with Meridion; I won’t remember ‘Emily’ anymore. The only thing left of me when he is gone will be Rhapsody, the Namer, the Iliachenva’ar. And just as you said you did not know if you could take back that Right of Command, I do not know if I will be able to get back the part of me that I am leaving behind. I may be unrecognizable, just as you are when the dragon takes control of you. But it’s the only thing I can do now.” Against her will, tears spilled from her eyes and streaked her cheeks. “I am sorry. I’m sorry that I have failed you.”

  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, pawlik
e 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.”