Clearwater Dawn (12 page)

In the market court, he could see an Ilvani merchant with the stars of the Aodarba enclave on his banner. He was arguing with an order from an irate sentry, angry movements and an energy of confrontation rising where Chriani watched, anxious for the distraction suddenly. There was an edge of hostility in the city guard, an antagonism toward the Ilvani that he hadn’t seen before. Not openly, at any rate. He saw more figures assembling on either side of the fray, two sentries managing to disengage the sergeant whose order had started the confrontation. Harsh voices echoed across the market, spilling across the walls into the silence of the funeral procession.

Without warning, one of the Ilvani turned to see Chriani watching him, a kind of coldly questioning look in him that Chriani turned quickly away from. On the staging ground before him, he saw that Lauresa was gone, hadn’t noticed her leave.

He hadn’t seen her ascend the wall and step in beside him until he heard her voice raised in the singing of the rites.

Around her was the customary space, the two guards who’d accompanied her flanking at five paces away, the same space opened up in the crowd where she and her younger siblings had come to the wall to watch the end of the ceremony below. Her voice was crystal-pure in his ear, a faint ripple of sunlight turned to sound. He felt his heart skip, felt the familiar burning at his chest that made him look away.

And where his glance strayed, a ring lay on the low riser to his right. A plain steel band that hadn’t been there before, he was certain of it.

He looked to Lauresa from the corner of his eye, saw no sign that she even knew he was there. But where her hand strayed at her side, he could see a steel band on her finger that matched the one before him.

He let his awareness slip out to the crowd around him, their focus on the royal heirs and on Lauresa’s voice as it soared above the others around it. Chriani waited for the moment, shifted almost imperceptibly to sweep the ring up with the slightest trace of one hand, no one seeing.

Across from him, Lauresa’s song trailed off with the others, silence from below now where Barien’s sword and uniform were laid alongside him. Then Chanist stepped forward with the burning brand and sang alone, all the power of command in his voice turned to sorrow, it seemed.

Slowly, following an instinct he couldn’t have named, Chriani slipped the ring to his finger.

Do not be alarmed.

In his head, Lauresa’s voice filled him like a whisper in a close room. Her voice and not her voice, there and not there all at once. He felt a spike of cold fear, felt the echo of Barien’s voice in his mind the night before as he made the moonsign, involuntary. Hand in motion before he could stop it, then realizing that all around him, others were making it as well. No one noticing him where they warded themselves against the darkness of death where Barien lay.

None around can hear the words that pass between us,
Lauresa said.
You wanted answers.
Above them, the black smoke of Chanist’s torch rose straight, no wind to twist it.

What sorcery is this?
He tried to force the fear from his mind, not wanting it to carry across whatever link twisted its way between the princess and him.

This is the sorcery of court, Chriani. The ring you wear is dweomered and chained to this one I wear. Within the Bastion, my father and mother, my brother and sisters have access to such things. One of the privileges of rank.

The pendant
, Chriani thought. He remembered the storm-scent of the energy that had pulsed in Lauresa’s palm, felt an uncomfortable tightening in his groin that he tried to ignore.

The pendant,
she echoed. He started, hadn’t meant for her to hear him, but she had.
I am sorry for that. I was afraid, but fear is a sorry reward for the loyalty you showed me.

It fell into place, then. The shadow that had hidden them, the slow fall that had saved them. Then pushing through that memory was the memory of the endless kiss they’d shared. Chriani squeezed his eyes shut, the memory hammering at him even as he pushed it away.

You saved us last night.
He shaped the words clearly, tried to focus. If she felt the other thoughts as he desperately tried to focus past them, she didn’t show it.

The sorcery of the pendant saved us. It is a tool like any other. Do not fear it.

I do not fear.

You lie badly, tyro.

Where his eyes opened, Chriani forced himself to stare straight ahead. He felt a faint surge of anger, familiar.

Your story to Captain Konaugo last night might have cost you your life for all the ease he would have had disproving it
.

I had not intended to have to lie to Konaugo on your behalf.
Chriani felt the anger kindle to something sharper, welcomed it.

I am educating you, not berating you,
the princess said.
A well-told lie must be a thing that the listener wants to believe. Had you told Konaugo that you were suspicious of Barien, you could have admitted that the order to guard me came while you diced with my father’s stolen crown in a Valnirata brothel. He would not have cared.

Barien barely dead and I should have betrayed his memory to save your secrecy?

There is much more at stake here than my secrets
, the princess said evenly.
When greater things are at stake, a moment’s betrayal is easily forgiven, even by the dead.

Chriani felt his heart hammering in his chest, felt a shadow twist through him. On the staging ground below them, Chanist stood alone before the flames, singing one last time. The closing lines of a lament older than Brandishear itself.

You promised an explanation
, Chriani said. He saw the prince’s eyes squeeze shut.

As Chanist touched the brand to the pyre, a sheet of flame erupted, fountaining out from oil-soaked wood. As much as he wanted to, Chriani couldn’t look away. The tang of woodsmoke was sharp in his nose and eyes, his mind dark with a bitterness he could taste as Barien’s body burned under the brilliant Clearwater sky.

I promised answers,
Lauresa said.
They’re not the same.

As the prince high stepped slowly back, there was an undercurrent of emotion in him, Chriani seeing it only because he’d seen it the night before. A sudden weariness that revealed the age beneath Chanist’s straight-backed strength.

When Lauresa’s voice came to him again, there was an uncertainty in her that caught him off guard.
I am sorry I did not recognize you at once last night, tyro. But where you found me puts my life and future in your hands. For all my bluster then, you were right. No power or position obliges you to lie for me.

Chriani offered nothing back. Three years since she’d last spoken to him, but it felt longer now. From the platform, Chanist descended slowly. Around him was a slow shift of movement, like the ripple-spread of erratic raindrops. Through the crowd, one by one, they made the moonsign. The night-time warding, out of place somehow under the clear light of the sun.

The room you found me in was my father’s war room,
Lauresa said.
A place of private council and intelligence. Maps, histories, journals. Since the announcement of my marriage, I have sought and sometimes found there the unfiltered history of Allenis Andreg, Duke of Teillai and my husband-to-be. At court
,
knowledge is a weapon. When I arrive in Teillai, I intend to be well armed.

Where the name echoed in his mind, Chriani felt the burning at his chest again. He tried to focus past it, kept it at a level below words.
That explains your presence there but not our exit.

For me to have been found by the Bastion guard in the prince high’s war room would have created scandal. The military secrets of Brandishear are locked in my father’s mind, not in any written record. But before this morning, word would have reached the markets and the taverns of my attempt to steal those secrets in order to secure my place in Andreg’s court and Prince Vishod of Aerach’s beyond it.

Chriani saw shadows twist within the fire, the suggestion of movement wrapping the blur of Barien’s body where it was consumed. He thought he felt a great weight pulling on him, dragging him down into the heat that touched chill skin even from the distance of the courtyard below.

You offered to protect me last night
, Lauresa said.
I would take that offer, freely given.

It is,
he said. No hesitation.

As the pyre collapsed in on itself, he made the moonsign again. Around them, the wall was emptying.

“You were Barien’s tyro, were you not?”

It was the imperious tone more than the absurdity of the question that reminded Chriani that the princess was speaking aloud for the first time. She’d turned to face him, watched him with a look suggesting she might not have noticed she’d been standing almost beside him the whole time. The same tone of distant command from the night before, slipped into far too easily, he thought.

Yes, it is.
The tone in his head was gentler.
Regardless, when you are spoken to by the prince high’s daughter, a response is generally in order.

Chriani cleared his mind again.

“I am, highness. I was…” His voice caught on the words.

“I would have you escort me back to the Bastion.”

“Yes, highness.” Where Chriani nodded, he saw the guards who’d escorted her up from the staging ground fall back. He ignored their looks as Lauresa turned and he fell into step beside and behind her. Following at the customary five paces as she made for the stone steps to the courtyard.

Along the ranks of private apartments that ringed the inner wall, Chriani saw more eyes on him than he would have thought possible. He felt the keep shifting back into the pace of its regular life, garrison and artisans, couriers and traders slipping quickly into the routine of high-end commerce that worked within its walls. At every intersection, he saw someone’s gaze drawn to the princess, then just as steadily drawn past her to settle on him where he walked behind.

They’re watching
, Lauresa said through the silent link the rings made.
When they see and hear nothing, they’ll conclude that this is what it appears to be. Barien was my warden. I showed a moment of compassion to his apprentice.

And what is the point of that?
Chriani asked.

Actions at court are placed under a scrutiny the likes of which you cannot imagine,
she said.
If I had so much as glanced at you when I made my entrance, that fact would already have made the rounds of the keep and the markets. Living at court, one must develop more and more ingenious means of keeping plans, actions, words secret.

How could anyone hear us?

By the same manner in which I heard you speak to my father from outside the throne room last night.

Chriani blinked. Lauresa touched the pendant at her throat, adjusted it slightly.

From the pieces you provided, I assembled something that my father wanted hear
, she said
. That book was a favorite of my mother’s. A memory of a happier time for him.

And with the words, Chriani felt a sudden hint of longing — emotion and sensation he could feel through whatever link the ring made between them.

I heard Barien’s voice
, he thought. A connection there to the inexplicable sensation of the princess’s thoughts in his head that he suddenly longed to make sense of.
When I told your father I was called to protect you, it was the truth. But it was Barien’s voice in my thoughts, like yours.

Barien had his own access to devices such as I have. He was my mother’s warden originally. When she left my father’s court and Barien stayed to watch over me, my mother left him more of such trinkets than I think my father knew.

Where the central court opened up to the archives quarter to the west, Lauresa slowed, Chriani matching her pace.

“I have an errand,” she said as she turned back. “Accompany me.”

Chriani glanced to the dim emptiness of the hall of records, a faint chill threading him suddenly.

“Yes, highness,” he said. He hid his uncertainty as a courier hustled past, nodding to the princess where she turned, Chriani five steps behind her.

From across Brandishear and even farther afield, students, researchers, and the occasional sage came frequently to Rheran to partake of the wealth of the knowledge Chanist’s court collected. Even so, the archives quarter was rarely the busiest part of the Bastion, and less so today with the keep locked down. Along the hall of records, Chriani passed the same rows of locked doors he’d passed the night before, caught the gleam of evenlamps from the stones of the floor. Scrubbed clean, then scrubbed again most likely. No trace left of what they’d witnessed the night before except the memory he carried with him now.

At the intersection where he’d first seen Barien’s body, Lauresa slowed.

Are we alone?
she asked.