Dreams of Fire and Gods 2: Fire (13 page)

In the sudden silence that came from everybody in the room freezing in place, Sael almost burst out laughing. But he knew Tanum would take that as an insult, instead of what it really was— delight at seeing his father get his comeuppance. So he choked the laughter back and disguised it with a quick sip of wine.

“Don’t be absurd!” the
vek
snapped when he’d regained his composure.

But Tanum was not intimidated. “I’m not being absurd, Your Grace. I’m being practical.”

“
Practical
?”

“Harleh is in a state of war,” Tanum went on calmly. “I cannot sit idly by, exchanging gossip over needlepoint or composing lists of dinner invitations. I need to be involved.”

T h e
vek
sighed and set his wineglass back on the table without having drunk from it. “Tanum, I’m quite sure there are things—useful things—a lady of your station can do to assist. Perhaps the
ömem
could use some assistant nurses. No doubt you’re capable. But I will not have my son’s widow standing upon the battlements, waving her arms about and making a fool of herself in front of the entire city!”

“Oh, is that what we do?” Snidmot muttered into his own wineglass, but everybody ignored him.

Tanum raised her chin and looked at her father-in-law defiantly. “As I understand it, Taaweh magic is a bit more subtle than that.”

“Whatever Taaweh magic is or is not,
you
are not to practice it. I forbid it.”

“Your Grace, I am well out of my maiden years—”

 

“You are a member of the Royal House of Menaük—”

 

“—and I am a widow—”

“—and as such, you will conduct yourself with a proper amount of decorum.”

“—and I think I have earned the right to decide—”

“Father!” Sael interrupted before the argument could spiral completely out of control. “Perhaps we should have this discussion at another time.”

His father glanced around the table at the men busying themselves chewing or cutting their duck into minute pieces to escape this unseemly display of family discord. Then, as the staff entered with the next course, the
vek
said simply, “Quite so.”

Tanum gave Sael a conspiratorial look that said, “Isn’t he tedious?” and then directed her attention back to her plate. Sael was sympathetic, but he had to admit he was as shocked as the others at the idea of a woman practicing magic. Still, he knew the Taaweh women were mages just as much as the men were. As far as he could determine,
all
the Taaweh were mages, though perhaps he simply hadn’t seen enough of them to get an accurate picture.

One thing seemed clear to him— few of the
vönan
in Harleh would choose the path Geilin had chosen. What they wanted was escape from Harleh, so they could come into their power again. They weren’t interested in throwing away everything they’d spent their lives working for if the situation cutting them off from the Eyes was only temporary.

Which brought up another question —once the Taaweh announced their presence to the Stronni and secrecy no longer provided an advantage, should anyone who wished to leave Harleh be allowed to do so? Once the Stronni began to attack the valley directly, would
anyone
wish to remain here? Sael feared Harleh would soon be abandoned, its residents scattered to Worlen or other cities to the east.

But he waited until after dinner, when Tanum had retired and the men were taking brandy in the library, to bring the subject up.

Not surprisingly, his father was appalled by the idea of anyone turning his back upon Harleh. “Some cowards may run away, and you’ll do well to be rid of them. But these people have been here for generations. They built these walls with their own labor. They’ve buried their ancestors here! Harleh is their home and they won’t abandon it.”

Sael was far from convinced. His father wasn’t living here. He wasn’t enduring the unsettling discolored sky day after day, and he wasn’t watching an unnatural forest press in from all sides.

“Your Grace,” Meik said, “there have been reports of…. Well, a number of people have taken their own lives.”

Worlen frowned and finished his brandy, then carefully set the snifter down upon one of the library’s small side tables. His voice was somewhat softer when he spoke. “You know as well as I do, General, these things tend to happen in times of war.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

 

“Are you saying we should just ignore it?” Sael asked incredulously.

His father replied coolly, “I’m saying I have no solution for it. What would you propose? A festival to cheer everyone up?” He clearly found the idea ludicrous.

“I am finding it harder to justify imprisoning my own people, just to provide a slight tactical advantage to the Taaweh.”

“Perhaps you should have considered that before making this alliance.”

“Perhaps,” Sael replied, refusing to be baited, “but just how much will it cost the Taaweh, if the Stronni learn of them now? They appear to be capable of defending themselves. Why can’t we allow some people to leave Harleh, if they wish?”

Sael could tell immediately that he’d said something foolish by the sour looks he received, not only from his father, but from the generals as well.

“General Meik,” Worlen said, “there appears to be a slight gap in the
dekan
’s education on tactics. Would you mind?”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Meik said, though the look he gave Sael was apologetic. “Your Lordship…. Let us say that you were at war, perhaps with the emperor, and you discovered after your initial attack that his city was more or less invulnerable. Nothing you threw at it was having any effect at all. What would your next move be?”

Sael fought back his initial feelings of irritation and embarrassment and answered the general’s question. “Cut off his supplies. If possible, prevent any fresh water from going into the city. There are two rivers that go into güKhemed. If we diverted them into the surrounding fields, we’d also wipe out any nearby farms that could provide supplies. Other nearby farms we would capture or….”

Sael hesitated, not wanting to finish his thought, but Meik finished it for him. “… Or burn.”

“But… Worlen doesn’t supply the Taaweh with anything.”

“No,” the
vek
said, “but the Stronni will perceive us as allies and traitors. They will destroy Worlen as a matter of course.”

It was true. Sael had been thinking solely of Harleh these past weeks, but now he could see that Worlen was in far more immediate danger. “What can be done to protect Worlen?”

His father snorted. “Protect it from the gods? Nothing. At least… there’s nothing
we
can do.” He paused. “I’m not happy with this. Not at all. But after weighing the alternatives, I’ve been forced to conclude that our only reasonable course of action is to petition the Taaweh to extend their protection to Worlen.”
the shadows. The Taaweh hadn’t specifically taught him how to do this— it had just come to him naturally. Initially, as he began to travel through the earth from one place to another, he’d been blind, relying upon a sort of “feeling” of his destination. He thought of a place or a person, and suddenly he was there.

K
OREH
had been learning to see through

But gradually he’d begun to “see” where he was going. It had been fuzzy and indistinct at first, as though he were looking through a pane of the thick leaded glass nobles were so fond of sealing up their windows with, which let in light but were too warped to really see through. Over time, the images had sharpened. Now he could see fairly well when he chose to look ahead, and better in dark spaces than in light. It appeared to be the opposite of the Sight the
ömem
possessed.

This was how Koreh saw the
samöt
silently lower himself from the window of a darkened room on one of the upper floors of the keep—one used by the servants to heat the water that was piped down into Sael’s quarters—onto Sael’s balcony. The man was small and slight, with a head of tousled dark hair that gave him an almost childlike appearance. But from his face, Koreh estimated that he was an adult, or nearly.

The glass-paned double doors that opened onto the balcony were locked, but the lock was a clunky thing that Koreh himself could have easily picked. The assassin made short work of it and slipped into the dark room on the other side.

Koreh moved physically then, through leagues of forest and into the shadows within Sael’s bedchamber. The assassin was hidden, or thought he was, in an alcove used for storing linens at one end of the room. The alcove was covered by a heavy tapestry and provided ample cover, but Koreh could see the young man clearly.

In one rapid movement, Koreh leapt upward out of the stone floor and swung his staff hard at the tapestry, targeting the spot where the man was curled up. Bluish light flared out from the tip of the staff when it struck, rippling out across the tapestry like flame, though it didn’t burn the material. Had it struck the man directly, he would have been rendered unconscious, but the heavy fabric protected him. He slammed back against the stone wall and dropped down, rolling out from under the tapestry to land in a crouched position on the floor.

As he fell, he drew two throwing daggers, one in each hand, and threw one directly at Koreh’s head. Koreh barely dodged in time, the dagger flicking by his ear. It would have ripped through the hood of his cloak had the latter been made of any kind of physical fabric. Instead the dagger hurtled through it as if it were nothing but smoke and clanged against the stone wall behind Koreh.

He had to twist his body painfully in order to dodge the dagger aimed at his midsection. That one grazed his hip, since the shadow robe didn’t really provide much by way of armor. But he swung his staff around as he twisted and brought it up sharply into the assassin’s face. Blue light exploded over the young man like a splash of phosphorescent water, and he tumbled over backward. He struck the floor and lay still.

The fight had been relatively quiet, but apparently some noise had alerted the two guards standing outside the room. They burst in, swords drawn, and froze, looking at the two combatants in shock.

“Identify yourself!” one of them shouted, thrusting his sword at Koreh.
Koreh was tempted to disappear as soon as the door opened. But he held his ground, because he needed to make sure the assassin was dealt with properly. Now he realized
he
might be mistaken for an assassin himself.
But the other guard quickly clamped a hand down on his companion’s sword arm. “Wait! That’s Master Koreh.”
Master Koreh?
The first guard stared at Koreh for a moment, his mouth hanging open as he tried to sort things out in his head. “Are you sure?” he asked the other guard.
“Yes, you idiot. Don’t you remember him from His Lordship’s funeral? Put your sword away!” He was clearly worried about a possible demotion, or whatever they did in the keep to punish guards who offended the royal family.
The first guard sheathed his sword and they both snapped to attention, and then followed it with a bow.
“Can we be of service, Master Koreh?” the more observant of the two guards asked.
“This man is an assassin,” Koreh replied, relaxing his own stance. “He won’t be unconscious for long. Do you have anything we could tie him up with?”
He sent the other one to fetch Sael and Master Geilin while he helped the guard truss up the assassin with one of the ties from the large curtains that flanked the balcony doors.
“Do you have orders concerning me?” Koreh asked the guard curiously.
“His Lordship commanded all the palace guards to give you access to his quarters or anywhere else in the keep, sir. And we’re to obey your orders, sir —within reason.”

Koreh didn’t bother asking him to clarify the definition of “within reason.” This was obviously an attempt on Sael’s part to avoid a repeat of what had happened when they’d first arrived and Koreh had been blocked from reentering the keep after spending the evening at a local tavern. It wasn’t really possible to keep Koreh out, if he wanted to get inside the keep, but he appreciated the fact that Sael was looking out for him.

Unfortunately, when the other guard returned, he had an entourage with him —not just Sael and Geilin, but also Vek Worlen and several others Koreh could only vaguely remember. Sael and Koreh barely had a moment to exchange a look of acknowledgement before the
vek
snapped out, “What is all this?”

Koreh looked the man in the eye, recalling their last unpleasant exchange before the Taaweh had announced their presence to Harleh. Worlen had tried to bribe him into leaving Sael and then threatened him with imprisonment if he did not. Koreh couldn’t stand him. “An assassin broke into Sael’s quarters. I’ve disarmed him.”

The assassin in question was conscious again, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and his arms bound tightly to his sides. He was glaring at them, which made him look petulant and even younger than he was. He had wide, dark eyes but otherwise unremarkable features. A face that was unlikely to stand out in a crowd, especially if he was mistaken for a rough street urchin.

“You just happened to be taking a stroll through
His Lordship’s
”—the
vek
emphasized the title, clearly annoyed that Koreh was being so familiar —“quarters, when you came upon an assassin hiding in the dark? How lucky for us!”

“Father!” Sael interrupted. “Koreh has permission to be in my quarters.”

Worlen gave his son a sour look. “Of that I had no doubt. What I would like to know is how he knew that there was an assassin hiding in your room.”

“I was warned that he would come here tonight,” Koreh said. “By the Taaweh.”

“If the Taaweh knew he was on his way, why didn’t they stop him?”

 

“They
did
stop him. By sending me.”

Worlen snorted, but there was little he could say in response. After all, Koreh
had
stopped the assassin.

Sael gave Koreh a wry smile and bowed slightly. “Thank you, Master Koreh.”

“Your Lordship,” Koreh responded with a bow of his own and a similar smile. As far as he knew, the Taaweh would allow him to stay with Sael tonight, if Sael had no objections.