Elegy for a Lost Star (32 page)

T
he closing banquet of the winter carnival started out festively, and ended even more so.

With the final races complete, the last of the competitions' prizes awarded, and the final round of choral singing ended with enthusiastic participation, such that the white fields of Navarne had rung with the sound of it, all without any noticeable mishap, the Lord and Lady Cymrian, the two
Navarne children, Anborn, and the household staff had wearily sat down to a late supper, reviewing the final arrangements and determining the festival's success.

“Two drunken fights leading to fisticuffs; otherwise, all in all, a fairly peaceful event, I would say,” Ashe commented, running his thumb over his wife's hand. Rhapsody smiled in response, assenting. “And Navarne has a new duke now, with full participation in the council of Roland, which bodes well for the province. I think we can cautiously term this carnival a success.” Gerald Owen, the last of the servants to leave the table, smiled tiredly and nodded, gathering the plates and withdrawing from the room, followed by Melisande, who was on her way to bed.

Anborn belched loudly, deadening all sound in the room.

“Indeed. Any party where no one of significance gets killed can certainly be seen as a good one,” he said. “I'd like to offer my thanks to the Lady for her kind hospitality, and make known that I will be taking my leave shortly.” Those around the table nodded in assent; such an announcement was never unexpected, as Anborn rarely remained in one place very long.

“This time, however, I would like to issue an invitation to the new duke of Navarne to accompany me in my travels.”

“Where are you going?” Ashe asked, taking a sip from his glass of spiced cider.

The Lord Marshal waited until the door had closed behind Gerald Owen to answer.

“Sorbold. I am still troubled by things I have heard on the wind from there; I suspect it is worth investigating.”

Ashe nodded in agreement. “I'm sure whatever information you gather will be highly useful, Uncle. I have been concerned about some of the reports from the shipping trade there; we've been watching the actions of the new regent emperor since his selection by the Scales, but thus far, at least on the surface, he seems to be conducting a measured regent year. I have had some doubt expressed about him from people I trust, so whatever you can determine will be valuable.”

“Only if you choose to act on what I tell you, Gwydion,” Anborn said darkly. “I've been warning you for some time that war is coming, and while you've taken some of my suggestions to heart, I would like to see you moving more aggressively to reinforce both the infantry and the navy.”

“I've placed an order for a dozen new warships, built in Manosse and outfitted in Gaematria, this very week, Uncle,” Ashe said mildly. “And the shipments of horses for the Alliance cavalry have been arriving regularly from Marincaer; training is well under way. I
am
taking what you have said, and what I have seen, to heart, rest assured.” He squeezed Rhapsody's hand again; her capture had been sufficient to make him see Anborn's warnings as timely.

“So we would be going to spy, then?” Gwydion asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Gwydion, an invested duke does not spy on a sovereign nation,” Rhapsody said reproachfully.

“No, indeed not,” Anborn agreed. “He makes a visit of state, but without telling anyone, and watches from places where he cannot be seen.”

“Forgive me,” Gwydion grinned. “Is that all right, then, Ashe? May I accompany Anborn?”

“That's for you to decide,” Ashe said, draining his tankard. “You are fully invested; your decisions are your own now. It probably is a good idea for you to make an official visit of state at the beginning of your reign, anyway—but I think you might wish to limit that visit to Tyrian or the Nonaligned States, which are safer havens for you, it would seem, and travel through Sorbold only as a means to get there.” He ignored Anborn's withering glance. “I would also caution you about remaining away from Navarne for long; as the duke now, you need to be available to keep the province running.” He saw the young man's face fall, and hurried to finish his thought. “But you have inherited an elemental sword, and need time to travel with it, to train. There is no better teacher than Anborn. I think it's a good use of your first weeks as duke—and I will mind Navarne while you are gone. Then you can return and assume your full duties.” He turned to his wife. “What say you, darling?”

Rhapsody folded her hands.

“If you are going to venture forth, those are good reasons to do so—the official and unofficial ones—and you will be in good company,” she said. “To that end, I'd like to note that I desire to leave Navarne for some time as well.”

The three men at the table stared at her.

“I have been feeling ill and weak for some time, and it is disturbing to me,” she continued, her face flushed from the weight of their stares. “Something Jal'asee said before Achmed left made a lot of sense to me—it seems to me that since my situation is unique, and somewhat chancy—it would make sense for me to go and spend some time with Elynsynos, to see if there is something I can learn from her experiences with wyrmkin pregnancy, or just to visit with her. There is something drowsy and comforting about being in her cave, and I have not seen her for quite a long time.”

“How long a visit are you talking about, Aria?” Ashe asked, trying to not allow the reaction he was experiencing internally to become rampant.

Rhapsody shrugged. “I don't really know. I suppose it depends on how I'm feeling. I have no idea how long my confinement is going to be, given that your own mother carried you for close to three years. I think I might like to stay at least until Thaw. But I am not much good in Haguefort; I cannot even properly look after Melly, being ill so much. I am looking for a way
to get better, and I believe that the search for the answer as to how to do that may reside in the dragon's cave.”

She turned her attention away from the others and to Ashe.

“We have talked about this before; what is your decision, Sam? Is it all right with you?”

Ashe choked back his rising gorge.
No
, the dragon in his blood whispered.
My treasure. Stay
.

“If that's what you want, Aria; if you think you will be safer or more comfortable with Elynsynos, I will gladly take you there.”

“Thank you,” Rhapsody said, her green eyes shining. “You can always come to visit me from time to time.” She looked at Anborn, whose face betrayed his disapproval, and said quickly, “Remember, Lord Marshal, should anything happen to you in Sorbold where you might need assistance, you know the Kinsman call. I'm sure I would hear it, even in the dragon's cave, and come to your aid, if the wind is willing to carry me as it does other Kinsmen.”

Anborn chuckled in spite of himself. “Now, that's a pretty thought. The three known Kinsmen on the continent—one is lame, the second is pregnant and sick as a dog, and the third—well, the third is a Bolg.”

“Indeed,” said Gwydion Navarne. “But in my view, if I were ever in need, any of those three Kinsmen, however compromised, would be a great relief to have around.”

“You're right about that,” said Ashe, rising from the table and helping Rhapsody out of her chair. “And as long as the three of you remember to call for aid should the need arise, I will at least be somewhat comforted until you are home again.”

T
wo mornings after the festival ended, and the last of the stragglers had made their way out of the grounds and back to their homes, when the last of the debris and detritus had been cleared away, Anborn and Gwydion Navarne saddled their mounts and left on their mission together.

Rhapsody had been fighting back tears all morning, helping Ashe check Gwydion's provisions and sitting at breakfast with him and Melisande, who felt no need to hold any tears back and instead allowed them to roll down her porcelain cheeks into her clotted cream.

“I think I am finally understanding what you went through all those times when the people you loved left you at home and went off to do things they assured you were important, promising to come back,” she said to her adopted grandson after Melisande had left the table. “You want to believe so badly what they say is true, but your dread prevents it. Additionally, you can't give voice to that worry, for fear that your doubt will somehow be taken as a lack of faith, or bring bad luck. So you put on a brave smile and tell your
loved one to hurry home safely, all the while dreading the moment they leave your sight.”

“That would be correct,” Gwydion said sympathetically. “I'm sorry to have made you experience it.”

“No need to be,” the Lady Cymrian replied. “Do what you need to do, and come home safely. I know that Anborn will guard you with his life.”

“And I will guard him with mine.”

Rhapsody resisted the urge to smile. “I know that as well,” she said.

A slamming sound startled them. The young duke stood as the doors opened and the litter bearers entered, carrying the Cymrian hero, who was snarling at Jal'asee as they came through the door.

“No, I did
not
try the infernal contraption, bugger it all,” Anborn said, gesturing contemptuously at the Ancient Seren. “And as I have told you over and over again, I have no intention of doing so, unless the bloody thing can be used to hone weapons or ferment ale. I don't want my brother's damnable pity, or his largesse. You can tell him that rather than its intended use, I plan to donate it to a whorehouse and suggest that they use it on their guests who find it intriguing.”

Jal'asee consulted his cards, then pulled one out of the sheaf.

“Hmmm, whorehouse, whorehouse, whorehouse. Ah! Here it is. ‘Then at least I know you will be getting
some
use out of it occasionally.' ”

“Are you ready yet?” Anborn demanded of Gwydion Navarne, glaring daggers at the Sea Mage.

“I will be in just a few more moments, Lord Marshal,” the new duke said, bending to kiss Rhapsody on the cheek. “I need to say my goodbyes to Gerald Owen and Melly, and then I will be prepared to go.”

“Get on with it, then,” Anborn said gruffly. Gwydion nodded and took his leave.

The Lord Marshal gestured at his bearers. “Withdraw to the edge of the room; I wish to speak privately with the Lady Cymrian.” The servants bowed and walked away. “And you, Jal'asee—tell my miscreant brother that the next time he wants to make something for me, he might want to be certain it is something that would not squash him flat should it drop on him unexpectedly next time he comes to visit.”

“I will relay the message,” said the Sea Mage dryly.

“Good. Now go away.”

Rhapsody and the Seren ambassador exchanged a sympathetic glance; then Jal'asee bowed slightly and withdrew from the room.

“You know, it's a shame that you chose to go into soldiering,” Rhapsody said, a sour edge mixing with the humor in her voice. “You really would have made a fine diplomat.”

“Indeed, the finest sort of diplomat is the one that is plainspoken about his
goals and intentions, and where he stands. I don't think anyone could seriously accuse me of vacillating on my positions, or obfuscating my statements.”

“Certainly can't disagree with you there.”

Anborn's azure eyes twinkled. “Well, to that end, I have to ask you if you are still planning your ill-considered visit to the lair of Elynsynos.”

“Yes,” said Rhapsody, taken a little aback. “Why would you think that I had changed my mind?”

Anborn shrugged. “I have no reason to believe that good sense would suddenly strike you; it has never made an appearance up until now. I had just hoped against hope that it would.”

“What is your objection to my plans?” Rhapsody asked.

“For the life of me I cannot imagine why you would want to go sit in a cave with a vapid beast who might accidentally incinerate you should she get a head cold. Is my wretched nephew's company even more dull than I had imagined?”

“You have never met Elynsynos,” Rhapsody said tartly, her ire rising. “I don't appreciate you speaking about her, or Ashe, in that manner.”

The general chuckled. “Elynsynos is my grandmother.”

“So perhaps you should take the time to come to know her. She's fascinating.”

Anborn shrugged. “Perhaps. Maybe someday when I have nothing better on which to spend my time. It appears I value mine more than you do,” he said, a playful note in his voice, but a serious look in his eyes. “Stay here, Rhapsody, where Gwydion can take care of you. This pregnancy was ill advised; do not make it even more dangerous by hiding away in a dragon's cave where no one can find you to help if you need it. At least at Haguefort you have access to the very best healers in Roland.”

Rhapsody shook her head. “To my knowledge, none of those healers has ever delivered the child of a Lirin mother and a dragon father,” she said lightly. “It's a somewhat exclusive experience. There are few in the world who have ever been involved in such a pregnancy, and Elynsynos is one of them. She conceived Manwyn, Rhonwyn, and your mother while in human form, and could not then change back to her wyrm form until they were born, so she has had the experience of carrying babies of different blood in her body and giving birth to them. I hope to learn a great deal from her, and perhaps fare better in the delivery than I would have otherwise.”

“What can she possibly teach you? She was a serpentine beast of ancient race, an egg-layer that took a Seren form, mated with a Seren man, and carried triplets in a body that itself was foreign. That is not your situation.”

“No, it's not,” Rhapsody admitted. “But as far as I know, there is only one other person who had a closer situation to mine, whose natural form was human, and that was your mother.” She sighed deeply. “I wish that
events had worked out differently with Anwyn, that I could have come to know her and learn from her, as my grandmother-in-law. I wish she could come to know her grandchild. If only I had not gained her ire, perhaps—” Her voice broke off in midword.