Kingmaker's Sword (Rune Blades of Celi) (41 page)

“Sion’s spies?” I asked.

“Aye. A good man, Sion dav Turboch. He suggested sending Leydon. He showed a certain talent for the work. I told Leydon to deliver the message anonymously, if possible.” He smiled briefly. “I didna tell him to run off with Kyffen’s daughter, though. Nor did I tell him to go bounding around the continent with her for three years before he brought her home.”

I glanced up at him. He had unwittingly answered a question that had puzzled me. A simple explanation of why I was three years younger than Kerri thought her prince to be. “You said nothing. You never said anything to me.”

“No.” He sat on the stone beside me, resting his back against the sun-warmed rock of the cliff, and closed his eyes.

“Did Kyffen know? Did he know where his daughter went?”

Medroch shook his head. “No. Twyla made us swear we would never tell anyone. She feared for your safety.”

“But after?” I asked. “After she and my father were dead. You didn’t tell him then, either.”

“A vow of never means never, Kian.”

“Aye.” I glanced at the strong profile, saw the pain there. “I suppose it does.”

“We thought you were dead, too. Then when Cullin brought you home, it wasna my place to speak with Kyffen. You made no vows, but you remembered nothing. You had to discover the truth for yourself, and take it to him.”

I nodded. “A hard thing,” I said, “discovering the truth.”

“The truth sometimes is, lad. A hard thing, indeed.” He glanced at me, a hint of a smile suddenly playing at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps ye’d best tell the lass her quest is over.”

I made a wry face. “That willna be easy, either.”

He made an eloquent gesture and I got reluctantly to my feet. My head ached, and I felt drained and empty as a licked pot. I picked up the sword and sheathed it carefully, then bent to pick up the husk of leather that had enshrouded the gem. I walked to the edge of the cliff and hurled it as far as I could toward the sea below. I lost sight of it long before it hit the water.

“Aye, well,” I said. “If it must be done, soonest is best.”

Medroch got to his feet and came to the edge of the cliff. He put his hand to my shoulder. “I’ll walk back wi’ you, lad,” he said. “Ye can tell the lass after you’ve eaten and taken some rest.”

***

Kerri was in the courtyard with Keylan when Medroch and I walked through the open gates. I stopped to watch them. My son held a wooden practice sword, his sturdy young body faithfully copying Kerri’s posture as she demonstrated a high block moving to a backhand sweep. He would not be four for another season, but already, he showed promise of the same mastery his foster grandfather had.

“A fine son, Kian,” Medroch said quietly, watching them, too. “Ye can be proud of the lad.”

“Aye,” I said, smiling. “Verra proud.”

Medroch watched Kerri critically for a moment. “The lass moves well, too,” he said. “For all that gown is hardly the garb for swordwork.”

“Dinna let her hear you say that. She’ll tear strips from your hide. She’s a tongue like a rusty razor when she wants it.” Kerri showed Keylan another move, and then crouched to hold his arms to guide him through it. “You go ahead,” I told Medroch. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

“Ye dinna have to tell her now, ye ken,” he said.

“I know. This is something different.”

Keylan saw me then, and a delighted grin wreathed his small face. “Look,
vati
,” he called, waving the wooden sword. “Look. Look at my sword.” He came running across the courtyard, short, sunburned legs churning, and flung himself into my arms, sword and all, as I stooped to catch him and pick him up. The sword fetched me a good clout on the side of the head as he swung it around to show me.

Kerri turned, smoothing her skirts with the back of her hands, and met my gaze above Keylan’s bright head. She smiled briefly as I gently pushed the wooden blade to a safe distance beyond my ear. The child babbled on about the sword for a moment, then wriggled with impatience to be set down again.

“Show
Vati-mhor
,” he said.

“It’s truly a wondrous sword,” I said gravely, crouching down in front of him and running a finger along the wooden blade. “And you will be truly a fine swordsman when you grow up. Run along now and show Medroch.”

Kerri hadn’t moved. She waited as I crossed the courtyard. “You look tired,” she said.

“Aye, well, it was a long night. I need to speak with you,
sheyala
.”

“Right now? Shouldn’t you rest first?”

“This won’t wait.” I took her arm and led her to a stone bench beneath an apple tree. The small, hard green fruit clustered thickly on the branches, nearly hidden by the leaves. Somewhere in the highest branches, a thrush poured out its ardent little heart in sweet song to the morning.

Kerri sat on the bench and looked up at me. “What is it you need to speak with me about?”

I reached up and plucked a leaf from a heavily laden branch. The pale underside had a vaguely furry texture against the pads of my fingers. “I’m going away for a while after I rest,” I said. “I want you to stay here until I get back.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You want me to—” She bounced to her feet, fists landing on her hips. “Now you wait one moment there, Kian dav Leydon. You want me to stay here while you go haring off somewhere taking that sword with you?”

“I’m going to go after the General,” I said. “It will be dangerous—”

She rolled her eyes and raised both hands, fingers spread, in exasperated supplication to the gods. “He’s going to go after the General,” she said to no one in particular. “All the seven gods and goddesses save me from imbecilic Tyrs.” One finger came out to jab me in the chest. “If you think for one moment you’re going off on a ridiculous crusade like that, and leaving me here, you’ve certainly managed to addle your brain completely, my friend.”

“Kerri—”

The fists were back firmly on her hips, her jaw thrust out aggressively. “Don’t you
Kerri
me, you overgrown lout,” she cried. “You are not going off without me, and that’s flat.”

“
Sheyala
, this could be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” she repeated. She laughed incredulously and rolled her eyes again. “Dangerous? Now what in the world would possible make you think going after the General could be dangerous? Kian dav Leydon ti’Cullin, you are an idiot! A complete and utter fool. A dim-witted—”

“Hellas-birthing,” I muttered. I wanted to grab her by the arms and shake her until her teeth rattled and her eyes crossed, and I shook some sense into her. Instead, I planted my hands on my own hips and leaned forward, placing my face inches from hers. “Kerridwen al Jorddyn,” I shouted, “for once in your life, will you shut up and listen for a change?”

She stepped back, stiff with indignation and outrage. “Don’t you
dare
shout at me,” she cried. “And what about the prince? What about Kyffen’s grandson?”

“When I get back, you’ll have your prince,” I told her.

“And what if you managed to get yourself killed?” she cried. “What then, you barbaric moron?”

“Then Medroch will show—”

“Medroch? Medroch?” She waved her hands furiously. “I need you and that sword to show me.”

“Tcha-a-a-a.” I turned away. I wanted to strangle her. Well, no, not exactly. Spank her, mayhap. Tie her up and deliver her to Gwynna for safekeeping. She would most certainly meet her match in my foster-mother.

Kerri grabbed my arm and spun me back to face her. “Give me one good reason why I should stay here,” she shouted. “One good reason why I shouldn’t go with you. And don’t tell me because it’s dangerous. I said a
good
reason, not some stupid male idea of protecting a helpless female.”

I did grab her this time, my hands gripping her shoulders. I very nearly lifted her off her feet as I dragged her closer to me. “I’ll give you a reason,” I roared. “Because my soul lies cupped in the palm of your hand, Kerridwen al Jorddyn.”

It was a ridiculously drastic measure, but it shut her up instantly. It was not what I had meant to say, but once said, I couldn’t unsay it. And besides, I realized it was true. Kerri blinked once, then her eyes grew wide and startled. “What?”

I took a deep breath. “Kerridwen al Jorddyn, my soul lies cupped within the palm of your hand,” I told her, much more quietly and calmly this time.

She stared at me. “This is absurd,” she said faintly.

“It is,” I agreed. “Highly absurd, but true.”

I watched in fascination as a faint flush of pink began to rise in her, first in the part of her chest exposed by the low neck of her gown, then up along her slender throat, then finally, into her cheeks. She blinked again, and took a deep breath.

“Kian dav Leydon ti’Cullin,” she said softly, “your soul is sheltered safe within my hands and my heart.”

My hands still gripped tightly to her shoulders. She was going to have a fine set of ten small matched bruises there soon. I let go of her shoulders and caught her around the waist instead, pulling her against me as I bent my head to kiss her. We were both breathless when I finally let her go and stepped away.

“I’m going to rest now,” I said. “We’ll talk later.” I began to walk to the house.

“Kian?” she called. “Kian, why does the General want you dead? He can’t take your magic if he kills you without all that horrid ceremony.”

I turned. “We’ll talk later,” I said again.

“Yes,” she agreed. “We will most certainly talk later.”

***

We said our betrothal vows and became duly handfasted in the Great Hall that afternoon in the presence of Medroch and the rest of the family. The next morning, demure as a new bride, Kerri kissed me good bye at the head of the broad steps leading from the Great Hall to the courtyard. But it didn’t surprise me in the least when the black mare came tearing up behind me half an hour later and fell into step with the sorrel. Kerri gave me one sharp, fierce, challenging look, daring me to try to send her back. I merely smiled and shook my head in resignation.

“What about your prince?” I asked.

She smiled. “Not all
bheancoran
marry their prince,” she said.

“This one won’t,” I said firmly.

I awoke
just as the moon rose above the crags. Kerri slept with her forehead nestled into the hollow of my throat, her breath stirring warmly against my skin. Gently, careful not to waken her, I slipped out of the bedroll and went quietly to the far side of our small fire, the polished disk of silver I used as a shaving mirror in my hand. I sat on a fallen log, thinking hard.

Magic. Celae magic. Tyadda magic. Gentle magic. How did one go about invoking it? The masking spell Kerri had shown me, giving a rock the semblance of a sleeping cat, had looked simple enough. It hadn’t looked as if it cost her a great deal of effort. We were going to need foolproof disguises if we were going to enter Maedun and track down the General. The masking spell seemed a plausible answer.

Ground and centre. As I settled myself, I again became aware of the lines of power in the ground beneath me, in the air around me. Like the silver threads of rivers in a valley seen from the peak of a crag. I reached out, found I could trail my fingers through them the same way I could trail them in the water of a stream. I drew on the power and envisioned myself with hair black as midnight, eyes only a shade or two paler.

I felt nothing. No shiver of rising hair on the nape of my neck or arms. Not even the slightest ripple of nausea. I lifted the polished disk and peered into it. I still looked like me. It hadn’t worked.

How difficult could this be? I vaguely remembered working small magics under my mother’s tutelage when I was very young. If I remembered it aright, I had simply grasped the power in the eddies around me, and done it then. This spell should be child’s play. Why was it not working?

I reached out into the stream of power again, and concentrated. When I lifted the mirror to look, nothing had changed. It was not a Maeduni face I stared at. Merely my own.

Disappointed, I got to my feet to return to the bed...

...And found Kerri standing by the pile of bracken, sword in hand, ready to take off my head.

I barely managed to duck under the savage curve of her swing, flinging myself to the ground and rolling desperately away. I sprang to my feet, ready to dodge again as she spun, sword ready for another swipe.

“
Sheyala
,” I cried. “Don’t. It’s me.” I let go of the thread of power I still held. Kerri staggered with the effort of stopping the swing of the sword in mid-motion. She let her arms fall limply to her side, sword still grasped in both hands, and stared at me.

“Kian?”

I stepped forward and took the sword gently from her. “I didn’t think it had worked,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“I saw a Maeduni,” she said blankly. “I swear I saw a Maeduni soldier. That was you?”

“I tried to work a masking spell,” I said. “I thought it hadn’t worked. I saw no change when I looked in the mirror.”