The Merchant Emperor (28 page)

And—do you—still love me?

She swallowed the knot in her throat. Like her use of the reference to his beard, he was undertaking a similar countersign to see if she answered it as she should if she was genuine. The question had always been one of gentle teasing and reassurance, but her answer had been the same each time he had asked it. The pain in his voice now made the tears fall faster.

She summoned a smile through them.

“Always,” she said.

Ashe bowed his head. When he looked up again, relief had replaced the despair that had been on his face a moment before. He exhaled, and Rhapsody could hear the clutching pain give way in the sound of his breath. She signaled for Omet’s return and dismissed the Naming command, freeing Ashe from his invisible bonds.

“If you will put away your sword, we can try this once more,” she said, taking the baby into her arms and walking toward the edge of the blue light closest to Ashe. “You once promised that you would never draw on me again, but I will assume that you have not broken your word as you thought I was someone else.” She held the child up in front of his father.

Are you certain he’s—he’s not in any danger—being in this light?
Ashe asked haltingly. He quickly sheathed Kirsdarke and came to the blue light pool’s edge.

“As certain as I can be,” she replied. “I don’t have long to be with you—and I have much I need to tell you. But first things first—Meridion wants to see his papa.”

The expression on Ashe’s face was too painful to be borne; she avoided looking at him and instead pulled the blanket away from the baby and turned him to face his father, her hands supporting his head and his back. Then she extended her arms, holding Meridion so that Ashe could see him up close.

Through the haze of his own tears Ashe looked down at his son, translucent in the waves of light as Rhapsody was. The baby’s eyes were focused on him, their tiny dragonesque pupils expanding and contracting vertically, locked on his similar ones. They were intensely blue, like Ashe’s own, fringed with his mother’s black lashes, his cheeks rosy and his small mouth puckered, either in interest or in hunger. Meridion stared at his father for the span of a dozen heartbeats, then let out an enormous burp.

The tearful parents broke into laughter.

He’s gotten so big,
Ashe whispered fondly.

“Not big enough for a burp of that size,” Rhapsody said, nuzzling the baby’s head. “He’s obviously picking up some of Uncle Grunthor’s habits—or Uncle Anborn’s.”

Ashe shuddered but continued to stare at his son, love of unmistakable depth in his eyes.

“Hold him,” Rhapsody urged. “You might not be able to feel him through the light, but it’s worth a try.”

I don’t want to hurt him,
Ashe said haltingly.

“I won’t let go—I won’t drop him. We can hold him together.”

Beads of sweat broke out on the Lord Cymrian’s brow. He reached forward into the waves of blue light and slid his arms into the spaces that Rhapsody had left open for him. And while, as she had predicted, there was no heft to the image of the little boy, a buzz ran along Ashe’s arms where that image had shape, tickling his dragon sense with the joyful feeling of being reunited with lost treasure.

With great effort he tore his eyes away from his son and looked into Rhapsody’s face. It was shining; she was smiling up at him in the way that always made his heart cramp.

“I will bring him to you as often as can be deemed safe,” she said as Ashe looked back at Meridion. “Can you feel him at all?” Ashe nodded numbly, still transfixed by the sight of the child. “Then why don’t you give him a kiss—I have to talk with you quickly before the light fades and our connection is lost.”

No!
screamed the dragon in Ashe’s blood.
Mine! My treasure—my child—no!

Thank—you—for bringing him to me, Aria,
he said haltingly, the dragon tones present in his voice but fading as he struggled and won control. He bent down and put his lips to the image of Meridion’s head; no heft or solidity met them in return, but a similar buzzing vibration rushed across them, sending a thrill through him that reached into his heart and warmed it.

It was all he could do to keep from howling madly as Rhapsody pulled the baby closer, tilting him one last time for another look.

“Good night, Papa,” she said as the baby gurgled and waved his tiny arms in the air in Ashe’s direction. “I love you—we will see you again soon.” Ashe struggled to keep from screaming as she turned away and walked back to the far edge of the light circle, handing Meridion off into the dark shadows beyond.

She returned quickly to the near edge of the circle and put out her hand to him. Like Meridion, she had no heft, no weight to her, and Ashe’s hand passed through the image of hers like a sunshadow. Seeing his despair, she turned her palm upward and held it out to him.

“Here,” she said. “Let’s try it this way.”

Trembling, Ashe reached out again and matched the vertical angle of her palm, then slowly approached her. This time, as with Meridion, as it came in contact with the translucent image he felt a thrilling tingle of warmth on his skin; it shot through him, ringing with joy.

I love you, Aria,
he said.
Gods, I love you, I love you, forgive me—

“None of that,” Rhapsody said briskly. “The forgiveness part, I mean; I love you too. I’ve been on the verge of madness myself, missing you so terribly.”

The only thing that has kept me even vaguely sane is clinging to the picture in my mind of you and our son, safe within Elysian, as the world caves in,
Ashe said, experiencing another thrill as the undulating image of his wife reached up and laid her other filmy hand lovingly on his cheek.
I dream about you both every night—last night you were sitting on the warm ground beneath the young apple trees in the orchard of the grotto, feeding him and singing him his lullabye.

Rhapsody’s smile dimmed slightly.

“Imagine us instead within Ylorc,” she said, her voice echoing softly, “because that’s where we are staying presently.”

Ylorc? Not in Elysian? Why?

Rhapsody swallowed. She did not want to compromise his recent return to fragile sanity by telling him about the destruction of the grotto, its house, grounds, and contents, by his grandmother, the dragon Anwyn, but resolved to be honest with him if he pressed.

“Achmed deemed it safer for us to stay within the mountain for now,” she said. “I will tell you more about our accommodations, and anything else you want to know, later—but first I have to convey something to you for which you need to steel yourself.”

Ashe exhaled.
Tell me.

The evanescent image of his wife nodded. “Portia—the serving maid that Tristan Steward brought to us in Haguefort—” Her words were interrupted by a cascade of draconic curses. “Oh good—then I assume you already know she was the host of one of the Older Pantheon.”

I surmised. You have confirmed it?

“Yes, sadly, and more—the demon escaped the Thrall ritual that killed her body—and has taken on another host.”

As I feared,
Ashe said.
At least it could not have been a very powerful host; Portia was but a serving maid, brought by Tristan Steward for the purpose of seducing me.
He watched Rhapsody’s eyes carefully; she blinked, but did not flinch otherwise.
Given that F’dor can only subsume a host who is weaker or only a peer in strength of will, it can’t have been anyone particularly powerful.

Rhapsody’s eyes filled with pain.

“Alas, I fear you are wrong, beloved,” she said. “The demon’s new host took it on willingly, like Michael did long ago. It is the stone titan that Anborn told us of at our last council, the animated statue of Living Stone that Talquist brought to life on the Scales of Jierna Tal. The titan that led Talquist’s successful assault on Sepulvarta.”

Ashe’s face went white.

“The Dhracian that was in the midst of the Thrall ritual, trying to kill the one of the Older Pantheon, was attacked, almost destroyed by the titan,” Rhapsody continued, trying not to look at him. “His word is unquestionable. This has just made our task even more complicated, but not insurmountable.”

Now I fear that you may be the one who is wrong, beloved,
Ashe said in reply
. The task felt insurmountable even before this dire news. I have sent word to Manosse and Gaematria, but have not heard back yet, though it truly is too soon for the ships to have even landed.
He looked at the pool in which the image of his wife hovered.

The blue light was fading.

“Any other news?” Rhapsody asked quickly. “I fear we are about to be parted for the time being.”

Tristan Steward is our semi-permanent guest in the most secure of the cells in the internal stockade.

“You’ve arrested Tristan?”

He was sleeping with Portia, Rhapsody,
Ashe said archly.
I have reason to believe he may be a thrall of the demon.

“Of course,” she murmured. “Of course. How sad—I’m so sorry, beloved.”

I have not put that on the wind for now,
Ashe said.
If Achmed or the Dhracian you mentioned is ever in Highmeadow, I hope they might assess him and determine him to be free of demonic bondage, but otherwise I know of no other way to handle this. All of Roland, even his wife, believes he is here assisting in the war effort, and for now I am prepared to allow them all to believe that. But I am unwilling to risk his contact with anyone—
anyone
—until either the demon is dead or he can be declared definitively free of it.

Rhapsody smiled at him.

“You are wise, my love. Did Melisande return?”

Yes. She is in Haguefort for a few days visiting Gwydion, and then she will be escorted here—I believe it is requiring a brigade’s effort to pack all her clothing and whatnot—she truly is your granddaughter.

Rhapsody struggled to put the loss of her closetful of dresses in Elysian destroyed in dragonfire out of her mind. “And did she find Elynsynos?”

Ashe ran his hand through his hair uncomfortably.

No. I’m sorry. Gavin sealed the cave
. He felt the dragon in his blood rise again as tears came to Rhapsody’s eyes and glimmered, ephemeral, in the fading light.
But they did find Krinsel, the Bolg midwife—she was horrifically injured, but Gavin has tended to her intensively, and she seems on the way back to health, at least of some degree. As soon as she is well enough to travel, I will send her with an escort back to Ylorc—she is in need of the skills of a Namer, Gavin says, having sustained her injuries in dragon’s breath—from Anwyn. She survived; it’s a miracle.

“Well, that is good to hear, at least. I will let Achmed know—she is one of his Archons.” The mention of dragon’s breath brought up another thought. “Oh—I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I inadvertently destroyed your mist cloak; it did what it was supposed to do, and kept Meridion safe, but it’s gone. Can you and Kirsdarke make another one for me for the future?”

Of course. I will send it with Krinsel, wrapped about her—it may help soothe her wounds. How did it come to be lost?

Rhapsody glanced above her. The sun had all but moved on to the next pane of glass, the indigo section.

“I’ll tell you next time,” she said. “Goodbye, beloved. Stay well.”

I love you,
Ashe said as the vision of his wife dimmed into darkness.
Kiss the baby for me. Do you still love me?

The image disappeared, but her reply hung in the air of the study.

“Always.”

A moment later, the household staff and soldiers passing by the window of the study felt a rumbling roar that trailed off into the sound of epic anguish. They quickened their pace as they returned to what they had been doing.

It was a sound they had heard on occasion before.

23

THE OCCUPIED CITY OF SEPULVARTA

The next step of the journey was accorded to the emperor’s guests at somewhat more gradual speed.

The winding internal streets of what had been the City of Reason were not designed for comfort or ease of travel; rather, part of the path to penitence was thought to be the trial of making one’s way through the narrow, cobbled roads and uphill alleyways, a route that pilgrims often trod barefoot. The military occupation of a city built largely of white stone and marble had not improved the streets, which were now even more rutted and uneven. The Diviner and the king of Golgarn found themselves clinging to one another or in each other’s laps as the carriage lurched from side to side, making agonizingly slow progress past the blackened and broken buildings that at one time had obviously seemed almost otherworldly in the glint of the sunlight.

The enormous Spire was now impossible to see from within the city, but it made its presence known nonetheless. Every now and then the sun caught a facet of the star at its pinnacle, sending a broad slash of ethereal light flashing through the air, causing the broken rooftops to gleam in momentary glory, then settle back in the shame of black ash and crumbled brick recently visited upon them.