Destiny: Child Of Sky (82 page)

She reached out her arms, and her gigantic friend lifted her off the ground in a relieved embrace. “I'm fine. I really am," she said, looking down into his amber eyes.

'Oi'm not sure Oi believe you."

'Well, you should.“ Rhapsody hugged Grunthor tightly for a few moments more, then reached up and kissed his monstrous cheek. "Grunthor, will you go and see about an exit route now? I have to talk to Achmed alone."

Grunthor looked at Achmed, who nodded. “All right, Yer Ladyship, Oi suppose Oi can take care o' that if you want." He set her down gently and patted her head, then headed down the marble steps of the sanctuary.

'Grunthor?"

He turned and looked back at her. “Yes'm?"

'I love you."

A wide smile crossed his broad face. “The feelin's mutual, miss." He clicked his heels and turned once more for the door of the basilica.

Rhapsody waited until the giant Bolg had left the church, then looked at the Firbolg king. There was a look of amusement on his face that vanished when she turned to him. She studied his eyes intently, and as she did the pain and fear she was feeling crept back into her own. Achmed saw.it immediately.

He took her into his arms, and Rhapsody clung tightly to him, trembling.

Wordlessly he passed his hand over her back, waiting for her to speak. She could tell without doing so that he understood fully the depths of her fright. He held her for a long time, and the immediacy of the panic passed.

'You know,“ she said when she looked up again, "we really are two sides of the same coin."

'I know."

She nodded, lost in thought for a moment. Then she looked into his face again.

'Is there a limit to what you would do for me if I asked?"

'No."

'I didn't think so." She moved out of his arms and down the steps of the sanctuary, her arms clutching her middle as she stared over the vast space of the basilica at the candelabras burning down into darkness. She sat on the step, to be joined by Achmed a moment later. They waited in silence for a long while, watching the basilica darken, listening to the noise of the crowd outside die down.

I just -want it to be over. I just want to sleep peacefully again.

You want it to be over—it will never be over, Rhapsody.

Finally she looked at him, and her eyes were shining, but not with her customary emotions.

'In the old world, in the course of practicing your profession, did you ever have occasion to kill quickly, with little pain?"

'Yes. That was how I tried to do it most of the time."

'Of course, it would be.“ She looked away again and her eyes scanned the damage in the balcony and to the benches. "I may have need of your services soon, after the Cymrian Council."

Achmed nodded. “For whom?"

Rhapsody looked him directly in the eye. “Myself."

Achmed nodded again. He understood.

The fire on the hearth in the council room behind the Great Hall of the Cauldron burned rambunctiously, smelling vastly better than it had in Grun-thor's memory, thanks in large part to the three fat vanilla beans Rhapsody had tossed on it when they came in for supper. The meal had been a surprisingly quiet one, due in large part to the pensive look on the Singer's face and her lack of conversational patter, a signal to him that something was decidedly wrong.

It had been so all the way home from Bethe Corbair as well, his own celebratory mood not extending to either of his companions. He had cast a glance in Achmed's direction a moment before and had seen the warning look in his eye, so he did not ask, but rather attempted to lighten the mood with a pleasantry, or his approximation of one.

'Delicious meal, Duchess,“ he said jovially, patting her roughly on the head. "Oi don't remember your stew ever tastin' that good before."

'It's all that garlic from Bethe Corbair,“ she replied, rising and taking his plate. "I don't believe I've ever seen such plump, firm heads. I saved some to plant. Would you like more?"

'Yes, indeed.“ Grunthor took a sip of the tea and made a face. "And is this somethin' you bought there as well?"

'Yes; that's the horehound. It's the same thing that was in the candy.“ She smiled at his grimace. "Don't like it, do you?"

Grunthor made an effort to look cheerful. “Oh, it's lovely, darlin'." “Liar. That's all right, I'm used to people insulting my tea. That's the oil from the leaves; you said you had a sore throat. It's supposed to taste that way."

The giant Bolg swallowed. “Oi guess it's an acquired taste, eh? What are you gonna do with all that demon stuff—the mugwort and datura? Ain't that poisonous?"

'I certainly hope so. I've painted all the cockroach nests with it.“ Achmed hid his smile. "What are you going to do with all those arrows?“ "They're for my grandson, Gwydion Navarne. He's an archer, like his father, or at least is training to be. He'll love the ones that hold flame."

'Don't let him practice with them near the keep or anything flammable you don't want incinerated. They're warped."

Rhapsody's face clouded in dismay. “They are? I didn't notice." The Firbolg king leaned back and crossed his feet. “Of course you didn't. You were too busy concentrating on making sure Gittleson saw you in the market."

'He was inept, wasn't he?“ Was being the operative word."

'The poor benny,“ said Grunthor sympathetically. "It's so 'ard to get good 'elp these days." He grinned when he saw a smile touch the corners of Rhapsody's mouth.

'Especially where he is now,“ said Achmed, studying her as well. "Actually, it's pretty hard to get anything good there."

Rhapsody pushed her chair back. “All right, stop watching me. I can't stand it." She rose and went to the fire, staring into the billowing flames.

'You want to tell us what's wrong?" The deep voice was gentle; Grunthor saw the muscles of her back tense at his words, but otherwise could discern no reaction.

Rhapsody watched the fire a moment longer. Finally she turned and smiled slightly at both of them.

'I don't know for sure if anything's wrong at all, Grunthor,“ she said quietly. "I do have to go back to Tyrian, and it's making me sad to think about leaving you both again.“ "So stay," said Achmed flatly.

She shook her head. “I can't. It's time to call the Cymrian Council, and I have preparations in my own lands to make before I do. But after that I'll be back, and I'll have several months to wait before all the Cymrians show up. I have to stay within Canrif until they do, so we'll have some extended time together then."

'Oi doubt it,“ Grunthor mumbled gloomily. "Just when we're 'aving some fun, Waterboy will show up, and you'll be off with 'im."

Rhapsody's face lost its smile. “No, he won't," she said decisively. “He's out of the picture now, Grunthor. And if he does come, I don't want to see him anyway." The Bolg looked at each other.

'Well, that's refreshing,“ said Achmed. "What do you need from us for the Council?"

'I have a list, actually. It mostly involves accommodations and security, no small task for a hundred thousand potential guests. There are some other things on it as well; I'll go to my room and get it." She hurried out of the Council room and away from their watchful gaze.

After she was gone the two continued to stare out the door after her.

'What ya think's botherin'

'er, sir?"

Achmed looked back at the fire. “I think she's wrestling with her own internal demons now." cAchmed rode with her as far as the Ylorc-Bethe Corbair border.

They had shared a simple campfire supper and watched the stars come out in a sky that was darkening later at the approach of winter's end. They sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Rhapsody stood and prepared to leave.

'Thank you. For supper, and for everything else.“ Achmed nodded. Her eyes became a little brighter, and she took his hand. "Do you remember what you said to me the night before the coronation? About always being behind me?"

'Yes."

Rhapsody smiled. “When I was standing in the basilica, before you came in, I could feel you there, even though the demon couldn't."

'I know."

'It's the only reason I didn't turn and run right then."

Achmed shook his head. “No, it's not. But it doesn't matter; it will always be the case."

'I know.“ She hoisted the saddlebag over the back of her horse, then turned to face him again. "Will you do something for me?"

'Of course."

'I«ok in on Elysian while I'm gone. It's been such a long time since I've been there.

My gardens are undoubtedly all dead, but I just want to know that the house is still standing."

Achmed slung the other satchel on as well. “All gardens die in the winter. It's almost spring. Your plantings will make it through; the hard part is almost over."

Rhapsody studied him as he packed his own horse. “Not necessarily," she said.

“Sometimes the frost kills."

He came back over to her and took her hand. “Not when the garden is properly tended."

She smiled at him again, then reached up and took his face in her hands. Gently she kissed him as she had in the street next to the basilica that night, allowing the warmth of her lips to linger on his for a moment. Then she stepped back and let her eyes wander over his face.

'I was afraid I would never get the chance to do that again," she said softly.

'So was I," he said. He walked with her to her horse and watched her mount.

“Travel well."

'Thank you. You stay well, my friend." She blew him another kiss, then rode off into the inky blackness of the night, toward the light of the rising moon.

't't.s he rowed across Elysian's silent lake, Achmed muttered curses under his breath. He hated water. Only at Rhapsody's request would he be down here, sculling this loathsome boat across the giant pond.

He missed the mooring repeatedly and finally gave up in disgust, jumping into the knee-deep water and wading to shore. The moment his feet touched dry land he knew something was wrong with Elysian; there was an unwelcome vibration in the air.

Ashe was here somewhere.

As if in confirmation the front door opened. After a few moments Ashe appeared in the doorway, unshaven and wild-eyed. The look of abject panic on his face was clear even from several hundred feet away. Achmed took his time, removing his sodden boots and pouring the lake water out. Then he waded back into the lake and pulled the uncooperative craft to shore.

'Where is she?" Ashe's voice was right behind him.

'Yes, thanks, I certainly would like a hand," Achmed said sarcastically. He tied the boat off and turned to face Llauron's son.

His consummate dislike and lack of trust abated momentarily; he was looking into a face contorted by stark fear and unrelenting worry. He had in fact only seen Ashe's face once or twice before, on the occasions of uncomfortable dinner parties here in Elysian the summer that the pest had been staying with Rhapsody. The air had been chokingly thick with tension as the two eyed each other suspiciously and exchanged barbs while Rhapsody went about serving the meal, pretending to be oblivious of it all.

Now his rival was at a disadvantage. He had obviously been waiting here for her to return; if he had been upworld anywhere he would have heard the news from Bethe Corbair about the benison. Panic had made his face look older than it had even when he was being hunted. Somewhere deep in his past Achmed remembered that feeling. It was hard to imagine that another, far worse, one existed, but clearly it did, and in that instant, for the first time in his memory, Achmed felt something that resembled compassion for the man whose presence he couldn't abide.

'She's alive,“ he said, winding the rope and tossing it onto the beach. "She's probably halfway to Tynan by this time."

Relief broke over Ashe's face, replaced a moment later by concern and another, more complex expression. “Was she injured?"

'No. You can stop worrying about her now."

'Why did she go to Tyrian?"

Achmed met his eyes with a characteristic stare. “She lives there. Had no one told you?"

Ashe blinked uneasily. “Yes. No. I mean, I thought she would come here first. She lives here, too."

Achmed nodded, and turned to survey the gardens of Elysian. As she had predicted, they had gone dormant, frost withering their leaves and buds even underground. “Then perhaps she had an inkling you might think that, and went to Tyrian to avoid you. She doesn't want to see you, Ashe." He watched as Ashe's face flushed red.

'She said that?"

'Those very words."

'I see.“ Ashe turned away for a moment, running his hand through the implausibly copper hair. "Is that why you came? To tell me that?"

Achmed snorted. “Hardly. I am not your messenger. Rhapsody asked me to look in on the house and the gardens. She didn't have any idea that you would be here. Had she, I probably wouldn't have come."

Ashe nodded. “Well, thank you at least for giving me the news. Is the benison dead?"

'Yes."

'Good; that's good." He glanced around Elysian again; he looked as if he had no idea what to do next.

'Where will you go now, Ashe?"

Ashe turned around to face him again. A new calm had taken up residence on his face. “I'm not certain. Tyrian, probably."

Achmed smirked. “You did hear me, didn't you?"

'Yes. But that doesn't mean I believe you, or want your advice."

The Firbolg king chuckled. Being crossed made Rhapsody defiant, bordering on obstreperous; he wished he could see her face now, listening to this. "Suit yourself.

I assume the house is in order?"

Ashe colored a bit. “It's in order, if not orderly."

'I see. Well, be sure to clean up before you leave. I'd hate to have her any angrier at you than she already is."

Ashe's face darkened. “No, you wouldn't. You'd love to see us apart, wouldn't you?"

Achmed shrugged. "You are apart, aren't you? Ashe, go find something to do.

We've killed your demon for you; she's healed you and given you unbelievable power. You're the Invoker and the Patriarch now, both of which were her doing.

What else do you want? Find a life and go lead it. If you stay in Elysian much longer I will have to assess you for residence taxes." He picked up his still-soggy boots and headed back to the boat.