The Lotus Ascension (33 page)

Merieke put her hands flat on his
chest. “Enjoy Soren, of course. I can’t wait until I can call him husband.
Once this whole mess is sorted out.”

“Have fun.” Nathen slapped her ass
and playfully pushed her away.

“Don’t worry, brother. Soon you’ll
have your Sillara, and we’ll all be happy.”

Nathen would lie, cheat, and
perhaps even stoop to more desperate means to get Sillara for himself, so
though Konas did not want to, he knew he would have to explain to Kamen his
marriage to Sillara as soon as they arrived at the oasis. He could not give
Nathen a chance to poison Kamen’s mind against him. This desperate thought gave
Konas’s feet wings, and he sprinted to his house to gather his belongings. When
he returned, he found Nathen alone and ready to go.

“A fine day for a little
trip.”
Nathen smiled and took Konas’s bag. “Let’s get these Itenu children out of
trouble.”

But Nathen courted more trouble
than he knew, and Konas could not wait to see his face when he learned that
Sillara was already his wife.

****

Konas steered the balloon the whole
way back, and Nathen was so little help that Konas regretted not letting him
just fly off by himself. He would have crashed and died in the trackless
desert, and Konas would not have been forced to reveal everything so soon. Konas
had hoped to inform Sillara’s parents of his marriage only after Sillara was
safely back in Arinport, when they would be more amenable to hearing how their
daughter had been secretly married.

More than once on their
journey Konas looked over at Nathen in annoyance, but whenever Nathen caught
his eye, they exchange false smiles of easy friendship.
How could Nathen even
think he could aspire to Sillara’s hand? He was simply not worthy, and any hope
he had was nothing more than delusion. Konas could have laughed in his face for
his presumption, but he held his peace. He would laugh in time, when Nathen
realized that he never had a chance with her.

In time Konas spied the oasis, a
small patch of green and shade set in the middle of a sea of burning, yellow
sand.

“Finally.”
Nathen stood up from
where he had been lounging in the bottom of the basket. He had done nothing to
help the trip.

Konas rolled back the black silk
flaps one by one, slowing their velocity and dropping them closer to the
ground. The brilliant reflection of the sun off the white panels of the balloon
made their approach seem like a falling star. When they landed, everyone was
there with expectant, hopeful looks to meet them.

Slaves took hold of the basket and
pinned it to the grass as Konas reached up and grabbed the deflating silk
balloon. He gathered it in folds against his chest, for he had to secure the
balloon before he could greet Kamen and the others.

But Kamen could not wait. He came
up to the balloon and looked over the edge of the basket. “Where’s my daughter?
Where’s Soren?”

Konas said nothing at first. He did
not want to have to explain everything while he was dealing with securing the
balloon.

Rage worked through Kamen’s
features, and he twisted his mouth. “Did you leave my daughter dead?” His hands
flew at Konas’s throat. “You took her out in your balloon. You killed her.”

Konas wrestled with Kamen until he
knocked the basket over and fell out. Kamen flipped Konas over and rolled up on
top of him. Konas was a skilled fighter, but Kamen’s wrath lent him great
strength. Besides, Konas had no desire to injure his wife’s father, so he
fought defensively, shielding himself from Kamen’s blows.

Suddenly Kamen was jerked off him,
and Konas scrambled to his feet to find Darien holding Kamen back.

“You killed my child!” The veins
stood out on Kamen’s neck, and though his wife tried to soothe him, he would
not hear her.

“Sillara is well and unharmed,”
Konas said. “Nathen and I came back to get help.”

“Help?”
Kamen, now calmer,
broke Darien’s relaxed grip. “Why would she need help if she were well? And why
didn’t my boy come back?”

“He won’t leave her side.” The
thought of Soren sitting with her, holding hands and talking, pained Konas.
“She’s trapped in a town called Tambril’s City. It’s peopled by savages who
claim her as their Queen. And they say they’ll have Soren as their King, too.”

“What?” Ajalira asked.
“Tambril?
An Ausir name.
Are these
people Ausir?”

“No.” Konas dusted himself off.
“They were led to their oasis home by a half-Ausir named Tambril. He came from
the east with a people before the coming of the Fihdal or the Vadal into the
west. His people intermarried with the Sunjaa for a time, but as they became
numerous, they were banished for polluting their bloodlines.” He leveled an accusatory
stare at the representatives of what he considered a racist people. “Tambril
went into exile with his mixed blood people. He built their city and gave them
technology beyond their understanding. Now the savages worship Sillara, to
their minds the perfect mixed blood being, both of Ausir and Sunjaa
heritage,
and they will not let her go.”

Kamen spoke through gritted teeth.
“Won’t let her go? We’ll see about that.”

Nathen appeared then, smiled at
Konas, and then, turning to Kamen, opened his mouth to speak. Konas sensed
that, in his youthful boldness, Nathen was going to lie right in front of
Konas. Whom would the Sunjaa believe, after all? One of their
own,
or the horned foreigner?

Konas prevented him. “There’s one
more thing, Lord Itenu.”

Kamen, who had turned away, looked
back. “What’s that?”

“I’ve married Sillara.”

Every jaw dropped open. Even the
slaves, who were busy tending to their various duties, stopped what they were
doing and looked at Konas in astonishment.

Nathen’s mouth worked until he was
able to form the word. “Married?”

Konas smiled at him the exact false
grin Nathen had given him. “Yes. Couldn’t you tell?”

“I will speak with you alone,
tutor,” Kamen said. He led Ajalira away to their tent, and Konas followed,
leaving Nathen standing speechless and directionless.

Once inside the tent, Kamen whirled
on Konas. “Explain yourself.”

Konas looked at Kamen and then
Ajalira. Though Kamen was clearly angry, Ajalira was harder to read. If she was
angry, she buried her feelings deep down. As she was Tamari, however, Konas
assumed she would not hide how she felt. She must truly have been intrigued by
this turn of events.

“We hit a nasty sandstorm,” Konas
said.

“Yes, I heard.” Kamen crossed his
arms over his scarred, bare chest. “What does this have to do with marrying my
daughter?”

“Our balloon went down in the
middle of nowhere. We ran out of water quickly, but we stumbled upon Tambril’s
City.” Konas let out a long, slow breath, steadying himself for the lie. “When
I saw cloaked, loinclothed savages, I knew Sillara was in danger. They looked
at her like men bereft of reason and civility, so I told them she was my wife.
I had to protect her from the barbarians.”

Kamen nodded, and as his anger
cooled, his lips turned up in a half smile. “You Ausir are a clever people. You
marry Sillara in name only to protect her, keeping her safe for your brother.”

Konas nodded and smiled back. He
was not about to disabuse Kamen of his mistaken notions, at least not yet. The
truth of the matter would be more palatable coming from Sillara herself. If
thinking he married Sillara by proxy kept Kamen happy for now, that was fine
with Konas. Kamen would know the truth eventually, however, so Konas felt it
necessary to ease his father-in-law into the truth.

“Tivanel never intended to marry
Sillara,” Konas said.

Kamen’s good humor evaporated.
“What?”

“He still loves your wife.”

Kamen took Ajalira’s hand in his.
“Then your brother is a fool and knows nothing of us.” He looked a long time at
Ajalira, and she stared back into his eyes. Konas did not interrupt their
wordless conversation, for their looks told him that they were alone in their
thoughts, communicating with their hearts what words could never express.

“I rejected King Tivanel before
Sillara was conceived,” Ajalira said to Konas. “Take this message to your
brother: I will never wed him, not under any circumstance.”

She did not have to say it; Konas
knew that the circumstance she alluded to was Kamen’s death. Kamen was human
and would therefore die an old, withered man while Ajalira still lived in her
bloom of youth. How would she live without Kamen, then, all those long
centuries? But Konas recalled Kamen’s and Ajalira’s words at their birth of the
twins: “not you without me,
nor
I without you.” When
Kamen passed into death, would Ajalira deny the world her continued life and
beauty? For a mere man, would she kill herself? These were questions Konas
could not answer, for he was already in the fullness of his manhood, though
Sillara was yet young. Given her half-Ausir lifespan compared to his full one,
they would die about the same time. Konas would never have to make such a
choice, and he could not imagine the world without Sillara in it. He could not
imagine a place not filled with her many-voiced song.

“I will tell him,” Konas said, “but
he will not listen to me. He never has. He’s sure he can win your hand.”

Kamen squeezed Ajalira’s hand. “Her
hand is
mine
alone, now and forever.”

Konas turned the conversation back
to Sillara. “The savages out in Tambril’s city are fanatics who believe their
Queen and King have come to them predestined. They would rather kill the Itenu
children than let them go. They have said as much to me, that it is better they
die than live apart from them.”

“We will assail them,” Kamen said.

Konas shook his head. “It would be
impossible to march an army across the desert. It’s too remote, well beyond any
of the mapped oases.”

“What can be done then?”

“Unless they can escape by stealth,
they will be trapped there forever.”

“You know the city,” Ajalira said.
“Can you get them out?”

Konas would love to sneak Sillara
away, but if possible, he would abandon Soren to his cage. “I’ll try.”

Kamen patted Konas on the back.
“Come around to our tent this evening. Let’s share a meal before we return.”

****

The word spread through the camp of
Konas’s marriage to Sillara, and Nathen fumed at the knowledge. He sat with his
brother in the doorway of his father’s tent and stared his open hatred at Konas
the whole day. Orien and Darien seemed unaware of Nathen’s mood, however, for
Nathen dealt and spoke lightly with them. He kept his wrath hidden, pent up in
his breast, and Konas wondered what the lovestruck youth would attempt on the
return journey. Would Nathen even need to go back? Or would he make some
excuse, persuading Darien to force Konas to take him with him?
And then what?
Nathen would throw him from the balloon and
kill him.

Konas had to let tomorrow worry
about itself. The sun was setting, and he had a meal to share with his
parents-in-law. Konas was thrilled to think of himself as part of the Itenu
family. As Seranimesti, he was proud as any Ausir, but as Itenu, he shared a
new life with his beloved bride. He missed Sillara, so he hummed one of her
tunes, augmented in his memory by her own voice. Konas could not wait for the
dawn, to fly back into her arms, to defy the savages of the oasis-town and lead
Sillara to freedom.
Freedom to love him again.
Freedom
to live the life Konas had always wanted to share with Sillara.

Ajalira and Kamen greeted Konas
warmly at the doorway to their tent and bade him enter. As Konas slipped in, he
glanced back at Darien’s tent to see Nathen still sitting in the gathering
gloom murdering Konas with his eyes. He would deal with Nathen soon enough.

The table was set with all good things,
Sunjaa foods from hot, flat bread cooked over a camp fire to mounds of
vegetables like onions and greens, from baked fish to roasted ox-flesh. Konas
saw bowls of olive oil, figs, and honey, and his mouth watered. They were
giving him a proper feast, even here in this little oasis. They honored him,
and their display of hospitality emboldened Konas. He snapped his fingers for a
cup of beer, and a slave put one in his hand.

“The Seranimesti have a family
tradition,” Konas said, raising his cup. “We like to drink to sacred oaths,
those we hold most dear. When one person promises something to another, the
recipient receives the promise through a symbolic drink, and then the one who
makes the promise seals the oath with a drink from the same vessel.”

“What’s brought this on?” Kamen
asked.

“I must confess that I love your
daughter, have loved her ever since she was of age in Sunjaa society.”

Kamen and Ajalira exchanged glances
but said nothing. Did they approve? Did they disapprove? Kamen did not at once
attack Konas, so he cleared his throat and continued.