Flight of the Renshai

CHAPTER 20

The horse plunged to a rattling stop, and Imorelda dug her claws into Tae's leg for balance. The king looked out from their tiny cart to see the familiar, massive mountains that cradled Bearn Castle. Excitement flooded through him, tinged with relief. A light sleeper from necessity, he had awakened to every bump, clatter, and neigh as they traversed the messenger route behind an endless stream of galloping horses. By far the fastest way from Stalmize to the West, it employed a long line of men and horses standing always at the ready to travel at top speed any time of day or night, in all types of weather, usually to deliver decrees, notes, and occasional important packages. Interference with the messenger lines spelled instant death, but it was never meant for hauling humans and cats. Battered and bruised by the trip, exhausted from lack of sleep, at least they had finally arrived: a journey of several months condensed to less than one.

Apparently assuming Tae asleep, the rider did not disturb his passenger. Tae watched the young man dismount and head toward the palace guards, his movements slow, deliberate, and weighted with fatigue. *We're here?* Imorelda yawned and stretched across Tae's lap. *We're here.* Tae had no interest in the customary formalities that had to follow. The guards would inform the proper dignitaries, who would have to leave their comfortable beds to tend to a royal guest. Procedures would require following, servants would be roused to handle him, and all of it demanded a politeness his tired mind could barely muster. All Tae really wished to do was sleep.*I'm going in the hard way.* He chose the words for Imorelda's sake. To him, suffering through the official procedure was the most difficult and tedious way of all.*You coming with me?*

Imorelda leaped lightly from the cart.*No, thank you. I'd rather not get shot off the castle walls.* She gave her left leg a thorough lick.*If you sur vive, I'll meet you inside.* She trotted toward the main gate, one more cat amidst hundreds. *Thanks.* Creeping alone into the night shadows, Tae approached the outer wall of the castle and listened for the footsteps of the booted guards on top. At length, one approached, heels clicking against stone. Tae waited until the man had fully passed, then clambered up the stones like a spider, flung himself over, and clung to the other side. Already accustomed to the darkness, his eyes adjusted easily to the courtyard. He had not visited Bearn in years, yet it had changed little. The flower beds and vegetable gardens had shifted a bit, and a new guardhouse had joined the old near the north tower. Otherwise, it looked as he remembered it. The only movement he saw was cats slinking through the vines and pathways; the only voices came from the front gates, where the rider announced his imminent arrival to the waiting sentries. The overpowering, distinctive odor of feline assailed his nostrils.

Cautiously, Tae lowered himself to the ground, then headed briskly for the proper wall. He had not climbed it in nearly twenty years, and then he had used self-made bracers fitted with steel claws. Now, he relied on his years of practicing on his own tower walls to scale without need of anything but his own dexterity and strength. Fingers wedged into miniscule cracks, toes gripping through his soft, thin soles, he headed for the familiar fifth-story window, with its gauzy curtains rippling in the breeze.

Once there, Tae paused at the sill to get his bearings. The room appeared much as he remembered, the canopied bed holding a large figure he knew well. Matrinka had never lost the weight from the first of her three children, and she had added more through the years. Three cats shared her bed, one on the pillow curled against her head, one tucked at her feet, and the last stretched to its full length along her back. Furniture stood like towering shadows, and the rectangular shapes of two doors broke the fine line of the walls. All of these things passed Tae's inspection in an instant as he searched for danger. Likely, a Renshai guard shared this room with the queen, a quick, deadly master of the sword who would kill Tae first and wonder about his identity later. He would have to dodge the lightning sword strokes until Matrinka recognized and rescued him.

Yet, to Tae's surprise, he saw no other human figure, no movement other than the irregular sweep of the curtains. He lowered himself to the floor, still tensed for a wild attack that did not come. Finally, he crept cautiously toward Matrinka and swept aside the canopy.

The ginger-colored cat at the foot of the bed rose and started toward him, purring.

Ignoring it, Tae studied Bearn's queen. Her thick curls swept across the pillow and surrounded her gentle features like a mane. Her face held more lines than he remembered, and long strands of white hair lay knitted among the black. Age has touched us all, Tae realized, but he also knew Matrinka's appearance had never been what won her so many admirers. She was sweet and gentle, loving and kind, with the sort of nature that attracts long after youthful vigor fades.

"Matrinka," Tae whispered loudly.

The ginger cat caught up to Tae and rubbed its entire body against his arm. Turning to repeat the process, the cat raised its tail as high as possible to tickle Tae's face.

Absently, Tae stroked the animal, gaze still fixed on Matrinka, who had not moved.

"Matrinka," he repeated, this time nudging her shoulder gently.

The queen's soft, brown eyes popped open. She rolled toward Tae, dislodging the other two cats, a massive black and white and a plump little calico. They both yowled a complaint. Another cat scratched insistently at the bedroom door.

Matrinka jerked to a sitting position, pulling the blankets over her sleeping gown. "Tae? What in the gods' names are you doing here?"

Tae forced a smile through his exhaustion. "Always great to see you, too." He glanced around the room, still wary. "Where's the crazed Renshai?"

Matrinka placed a hand over her mouth and yawned daintily. "Does anyone know you're here?"

"Do you think I'd be in the queen's bedchamber if they did?"

Matrinka rolled her eyes and gave Tae a searching look. "You didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't climb in that window." Matrinka turned her gaze toward the curtains.

"Didn't I?" Tae continued to search for a bodyguard. By now, any Renshai worth her weight in salt would have sliced him into jerky. "And here I thought I did."

"And I thought you gave up sneaking around like a common thug when you became king."

"I've never been common or a thug."Tae shrugged. "And if a king can't sneak around, who can?"

"Come here." Matrinka held out her arms.

Tae embraced the queen, feeling tiny in her arms and enveloped by the sisterly warmth of her. To a man, Bearnides were a massive, mountain people, large-boned with coarse features. They shared the dark eyes and hair of Easterners, but all resemblance ended there. Eastern hair was fine and soft compared to the dense, bristly locks of Bearnides that tended to curl; and the Easterners bore a swarthy hue that made these people of the mountains look pale as Northmen in comparison.

The moment they released one another, Matrinka lashed out a hand that caught Tae squarely across the cheek.

He jerked backward, shocked. "Ow, damn it! Why did you do that?"

"Because you did something extremely foolish, and your mother isn't here to slap you."

Tae rubbed his aching face. He had never handled violence well. "My mother never hit me in her life."

"She should have. A lot. Maybe you wouldn't be so stupid if she did."

Tae had to admit that Matrinka had a point, though he did not like the way she made it. "I thought we were friends. You're making me sorry I came to see you."

"Good."

The scratching at the door became more animated, accompanied by vigorous meowing.

"The last five people who struck me are all horribly dead."

Matrinka refused to relent. "So kill me. You'd put me out of my misery."

It was the last thing Tae ever expected to hear from easygoing, sweet-tempered Matrinka. All anger vanished immediately. "Matrinka, what…?"

Paws flicked beneath the door, and the noises turned to heart-rending yowls.

"Can I let that cat in, or will a horde of guards descend on me?"

Matrinka wrapped the blankets around herself, dislodging the cats, then walked to the door. She opened it a crack to admit a silver tabby angrily fluffed, tail twitching. The cats already in the room rushed to the opening, squeezing into the hallway. No cat, it seemed, could resist an open door. Matrinka shut the panel before guards could look in or any more cats could enter. *What took you so long?* Imorelda plopped down on the floor, smoothing her coat back to normal with her tongue, her tail still lashing.

From long experience, Tae knew their mind-communication had limits. Outside, on open ground, he could generally "hear" her about as far as he could see her. Indoors, they nearly always required a presence in the same room. Walls, floors, ceilings, and doors cut them off completely. *I'm sorry,* Tae sent back.*I only just got here myself.*

The cat made a loud noise, halfway between a growl and a purr.

Tae ignored her to focus on Matrinka, who walked slowly back toward him from the door. "Matrinka, what's going on?" *I was about to go look for your broken, bloody carcass under the window.*

Matrinka sank back to the bed and closed her eyes. "It's been a monstrous year, Tae. I don't know how much more I can take."

Tae recalled Matrinka's strength through the many and varied adventures they had survived together. They had weathered deaths and injuries, wars and poisonings, wrongful imprisonments and miraculous escapes. It seemed so long ago, when they were young and inexperienced, irresponsible and youthfully immortal. Nothing had seemed impossible. "Is it the pirates?"

Imorelda leaped onto the bed and crawled into Matrinka's lap.

Matrinka stroked the cat, at first absently, then with focused attention. "It's Imorelda, isn't it?"

"Yes." *A true queen. She recognizes my exquisite and exceptional beauty.*

Tae could not help teasing,*What she recognizes is your putrid smell.*

"You're talking to her, aren't you?" Matrinka clearly attempted a happy tone, but she could not hide the deep sorrow that tinged it. *If I stink, it's only because I've been forced into close quarters with an unwashed human for so long."* Imorelda turned her back on Tae, kneading Matrinka's lap as she moved.*I've bathed. Have you?*

"Yes," Tae admitted. "We're conversing, but it's not very nice."

Matrinka's question was wistful, "What's she saying?"

Tae flushed, smiling. "She says I reek."

Matrinka gave the cat a stern look, "Imorelda! That's not ladylike." *Perhaps not, but it is true.*

"Is she still talking to you?"

"To you, actually." Tae tried to think of a tactful way to steer the conversation back to Matrinka. "You miss Mior, don't you?"

"Terribly," Matrinka admitted, but refused to be sidetracked. "Imorelda was talking to me?"

"I think so. She responded to your comment."

"I didn't 'hear' her."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"Though simple, the question held angst Tae dearly wished he could assuage. More than anything, he knew, Matrinka wanted back the relationship she had shared with Mior.

"I don't know," Tae admitted. "I don't know why you could converse with Mior but not Imorelda. I don't know why none of these other cats shares their special talent. I'm sorry, Matrinka. I don't understand it any better than you. I have no answers."

Matrinka cleared her throat. "Darris thinks Mior's line might be similar to his. The bardic curse passes always to the firstborn." *Oh, so I'm a "curse" now?* *Sometimes.* Tae sent back. "I've always wondered why the bards choose to have children. No children, no more curse." *Having children is curse enough.* Imorelda snuggled into Matrinka's lap.*Nasty things.*

"Do you ever wish you didn't have Subikahn?"

The question struck too close to home. Anger boiled in the pit of Tae's stomach. "Of course not. But I didn't inflict him with a curse either." No, a Renshai torke did that for me. *Leaping on your head when you're trying to sleep. Sucking you raw. The blood, the vomit. And I can't stand the taste of placenta.*

Matrinka continued to defend her decision. "Well, we love Marisole. And she sees her musical talent as a gods-given gift, not a curse."

Glad to forget his own offspring for a while, Tae focused in on Marisole. "The musical part isn't really the curse, though, is it? It's the infernal quest for knowledge and the inability to speak except in arias."

"They can speak; they just can't teach."

Tae waved dismissively. "Spare me the details. I find Darris tedious, but you love him and that's all that matters." He still did not understand Matrinka's discomfort. "You're very lucky, you know. You're a queen, with a wonderful husband who asks nothing of you. How many men would let their wives sleep with lovers and happily claim the children as their own? How many would allow hundreds of cats to roam the palace? A king shouldn't have to entertain visitors in a great hall stinking of urine and vinegar."

Matrinka stared, clearly stunned. "It… stinks?"

"Of course, it stinks. It's full of cats. Don't you notice it?" *Hey!*

"No." Matrinka's voice went small. "I'm… being selfish, aren't I?"

"Not selfish, just determined." Tae sat next to Matrinka on the bed. "I think you gave it your best try; but the next Mior, if there is one, isn't coming from this horde." He made a vague gesture toward the door.

"Maybe Darris' idea?" Matrinka scratched behind Imorelda's ears, to much delighted purring.

"Was Imorelda firstborn?"

"Second, but the only female in the litter."

Imorelda stiffened.*Are you talking about me having babies? Because I'm not having any babies.*

Light flashed through Matrinka's eyes. "I've been thinking Mior's ability was stronger than Imorelda's. Because she learned to communicate with both of us. If we could breed back into the line-" *Are you listening to me? No babies!*

"Careful." Tae's mind went to another line breeding. "Remember why dear King Griff allowed Darris to sire his children with you. You're his first cousin, and he worried that the closeness of your blood would create morons and cretins."

Matrinka rose, still clutching Imorelda, and the blankets fell away to reveal her sleeping gown. Attention distant, she seemed not to notice that only a thin layer of fabric separated her from the man in her bedchamber. Though stout, she still sported pleasantly proportioned curves, and her breasts had grown enormous. "I'm not talking about a brother. I'm thinking more of a great great nephew. If we can concentrate the bloodline, just a little, maybe-"

Reminded of Matrinka's womanhood, Tae looked away. She was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he did not want to start seeing her as a sexual being. *Tell her no! I'm not having any babies. I don't want any babies.*

Finally, Tae addressed the cat,*Why not?* *Because I'll get fat. Like her.* *That's not nice.* *And my nipples will turn all pink and hangy forever.* *Not forever. Just for a couple of-* *Forever. I've seen it. And I don't want to lick any rear end but my own.*

That one baffled Tae.*You'd have to lick someone's-* *That's how you get kittens to make-*

Matrinka whirled suddenly. "I'm sorry, Tae. I'm wasting your time worrying about cats and kittens.You must be exhausted."

Tae wished she had not mentioned it. Fatigue crushed down on him like a lead weight, and it suddenly became difficult to hold his eyes open. The urge to sink into the covers became nearly overwhelming. "I am…" He yawned. "… a bit."

"And I never did tell you why I'm so upset."

Tae gave in, allowing his lids to slide down, though he continued speaking in the dark. "I thought it was Mior…"

"Arturo is dead."

Tae's eyes shot open. "What?"

"Murdered by pirates. Then, I lost my best friend-"

"Lost your…"Tae refused to concentrate on the words and what they might mean. "I thought I was your best friend." The joke was feeble, at best.

"Tae."

Matrinka had his attention.

"Kevral…"

No.

"… is…"

No, no, no! Tae filled in every word he could think of but the right one: happy, different, Renshai, troubled, sick, hurt. He concentrated on an Eastern song, cycling it through his head, anything to blot out that last word.

"… dead."

"No, she's not."

Matrinka set Imorelda on the bed beside Tae. "She's… not?"

"She can't be." Tae heard his own words from a distance. He could not recall forming them, nor deliberately speaking. "It's not possible."

"Tae." Matrinka took his hands. Her palms enveloped his smaller, finer fingers, soft against his calluses. "I saw her body placed on her pyre."

"No."

"She's dead, Tae. Kevral is dead."

Imorelda wove between their arms to climb into Tae's lap, purring comfortingly. He did not ask any questions. He did not want to know.

But Matrinka told him what he needed. "In battle, of course. Against a Northman. The way she always wanted to go."

Tae said nothing. His hands became dead weight in Matrinka's grip. He lowered his head, lids gliding closed again. He wanted to sleep, did not care if he ever awakened.

Matrinka leaned in close. "And her death exiled the Renshai from the West, which is why I have no bodyguards but the men outside my door."

Ordinarily, Tae would have a witty comment about how well the Bearnides had protected their queen from a prowler. He could have killed or kidnapped her by now. But words failed Tae utterly. Even coherent thought eluded him. Only the merciless exhaustion bearing down on him seemed real.

Imorelda stood on her hind legs and patted his cheek with a paw. She yowled.*Are you all right?* *I will be,* Tae managed to send.*After I get some sleep.*

Matrinka got the message, too. "Lie down, Tae. You're deadly tired." She lowered him to the mattress, released his hands, then rearranged her blankets over him. "I'm so sorry I burdened you before you…"

Tae was asleep before she finished.

Treysind whirled, sword banging against his leg. "Hero's goned."

Saviar only nodded. That had become apparent quite some time ago, but the little Erythanian had insisted on checking the entire battlefield.

"He cain't be goned. He wouldn't-" Treysind looked to Saviar for help, eyes glazed with building tears, but the Renshai could supply nothing.

Saviar could only imagine the boil of emotion: sorrow and anger, worry and uncertainty. He shared only one, a welling sense of betrayal that did not originate with Calistin's disappearance. The decision of his youngest brother to leave in silence only fueled his certainty that the gods had struck his entire family mad. You, too, Calistin?

"He sayed he talked ta… ta a god." Treysind's voice caught in sobs. "She tole him… he… dint got a… a soul."

Cut by Treysind's anguish, Saviar drew the boy close. "I've often thought he didn't have a heart. Sometimes I've wondered if he has a brain. But a soul…" Saviar rubbed Treysind's back instinctively as the boy sobbed into his tunic. "Everyone has a soul."

Treysind sniffled, voice muffled. "Tha's what I's tole him."

Abruptly, a memory popped into Saviar's head. He recalled a day from his early childhood when he overheard his parents talking about Calistin, spiders, and someone who lacked a soul. They seemed serious and intent, but they stopped talking as soon as they noticed him. At the time, he had discarded the discussion as boring parent-talk. Now, he tried to remember exactly what he had heard in detail, without success. Is it actually possible Calistin lacks a soul? It would explain so much. Then, the deeper realization struck Saviar. No soul, no Valhalla.

Treysind yanked himself free of Saviar's hold. "I's gotta find him." He threw his pack back onto his shoulder. It made him look smaller, more insignificant, if possible. "I's gotta." Without another word, he ran deeper into the woods.

Saviar did not attempt to stop Treysind. Wherever the boy went, whether or not he found Calistin, would be safer than remaining with the Renshai. Alone, he had a chance. With Renshai in a strange land hunted by enemies and without Calistin's protection, his life was measured in days. For several moments, Saviar stood in uncertainty. His loyalties had always lain with the Renshai and with his family, but those two things no longer went together. Every member of his family had chosen a different allegiance that had little or nothing to do with the ties that had always bound them.

Saviar stared at the dark heavens, the crescent of moon, and the spattering of stars, dim behind a curtain of clouds. "What do I do?" he asked the gods but received no answer. That came from within. For, as irritated as he felt toward his father and grandfather, the lessons he had learned from them in better, wiser times prevailed. Whatever paths the men of his family chose, he would continue to walk the line of responsibility.

Head low, feet shuffling through leaves and mold, Saviar headed toward the odor of smoke, where he knew he would find freshly kindled pyres and the rest of his tribe. There was no good way to deliver the news he carried, so he dawdled, concentrating on how the leaves parted in front of him, on the Northmen's bodies lying in grotesque poses, on the actual possibility that Calistin had spoken with a goddess. Under ordinary circumstances, he would consider such a thing insane.Yet, he still vividly remembered the Valkyrie at Kevral's death. Calistin had seen it, too, and it did not seem that far a stretch that he might have interacted with a goddess, too. Especially on a battlefield, where so many of the fallen Renshai had called upon Sif. The Northmen, too, he supposed shouted out for the strength, wrath, and favor of their most beloved deities.

All too soon, Saviar located the main clot of Renshai, tending pyres, and found Thialnir in the mix. Each living Renshai he found filled him with relief. They might have lost fifty, but they remained two hundred and fifty strong and would never be caught off guard. Those who had died were mostly the weakest: the elderly, children, the ill, the lesser fighters. With each consecutive battle, the Northmen would take more casualties for every one they inflicted.

Thialnir greeted Saviar with a tip of his head.

Saviar walked over, dreading what he needed to say. Nevertheless, he blurted it directly; Thialnir had no patience for sugarcoating or pussyfooting. "Calistin has left us." Even as he spoke, Saviar realized his words could be taken as a euphemism for death.

But, Thialnir knew exactly what he meant. He nodded thoughtfully. "I thought this might happen."

Startled, Saviar shut his mouth with a click of teeth.

"And it is how it should be."

"It… is?"

Thialnir watched sparks shoot up from a pyre in a line, the smoke winding toward the heavens. "He has unfinished business with the Northmen. That was his fight, not Kevral's."

Saviar had never thought of it quite that way. "Yes, but it violates our word, our honor."

Thialnir smiled but did not turn his head. "Our word, maybe. Honor… is a subjective thing."

No, it's not! Strong as it came to him, Saviar did not speak the thought aloud. At the moment he had no intention of causing more strife. Also, he thought it wise to consider Thialnir's words. For all of his apparent impetuousness, the leader of the Renshai often displayed a simple, underlying wisdom that most did not take the time to understand. It occurred to Saviar that honor might seem rigid to him because of his upbringing by a Knight of Erythane. Despite living among Renshai, he had picked up more than a few lessons from Ra-khir. "I should also tell you, sir, that Subikahn will not be able to help us negotiate a haven in the Eastlands."

"Oh?" Thialnir's single syllable begged answers that Saviar did not have.

"All I know is that father and son are estranged."

Thialnir made a thoughtful noise, finally looking at Saviar.

"I don't know if that will affect the Renshai's dealings with the kingdom."

"It may." Thialnir's massive hand massaged the hilt of his sword. "It depends on whether the king attributes the problem to Subikahn's Renshai training."

Saviar grimaced. He should have made Subikahn tell him at least that much, but he had become too concerned about knowing it all to think of that possibility.

"But King Tae Kahn is a fair ruler. No matter the reason, he will give us the opportunity to talk, to convince him of our value to the Eastlands."

Thialnir's calm approach to the matter soothed Saviar's tortured soul. If Thialnir could handle the loss of a sixth of their numbers, of their most skilled warrior, and of their only connection to the Eastlands with such grace; Saviar could weather the storm of his family as well.

"And you have my blessing to join either or both of your brothers, if you so choose."

Saviar could only stare. "How did you know Subikahn…?" Eager for the answer, he did not even bother to complete the question.

A smile cut Thialnir's grim, weathered features. He ran a hand through sweat-darkened silver-and-gold locks. "I didn't know. You just told me. How else could you have known about his problems with King Tae?"

"Well, yes, but…" Saviar hated revealing his twin, but he had had to let Thialnir know the danger. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"No. But it sounds like he might need you."

Alone, apparently. Subikahn's words returned to haunt Saviar. He expected me to join him, and I teased him instead. "I thought you needed me."

Thialnir yawned, looking around the pyres. "I did, and I will in the future.You're obviously responsible enough to return when your brothers' need for you is no longer so urgent. Of course, we can use every sword arm, Savi. But, when it comes to talking to Tae, I can handle that alone. No procedure, no flowery words, no fuss. He's as earthy as they come. We'll get a yes or a no, without contracts full of twists, verbal or written."

"And the Renshai?"

"Thialnir shrugged one massive shoulder. "Will do just fine. We always do. Not because we're the chosen people of the gods, though we are. And not because we're descended from demons, which we're not." He placed a fatherly arm across Saviar's shoulders. "It's because we're talented, hardworking, and resourceful. And that's the Renshai secret." He ruffled Saviar's hair with his other hand.

Saviar suffered a sudden and unexpected pang of homesickness. He not only missed the Fields of Wrath, but the loving father he had cursed daily since his mother's death.

"Whether we land on harsh islands or barren deserts, we will thrive, as we always have. There will always be hordes of jealous people who resent our abilities and attribute our successes to dark magic, trickery, or deceit. But the truth of the matter, Saviar, is that we are willing to put in an effort most are not. Instead of complaining about our misfortunes, or blaming others, we work to turn them around. We do not wallow in self-pity, we fix the problem. In the last three hundred years, Renshai have never started a war, yet we finish all of them-and win, even vastly outnumbered. And, while people claim to love honor, to revere heroism; in actuality, they despise it because it reminds them of their own shortcomings, makes them feel inferior. And so, Renshai will always survive and always be hated."

Saviar did not know what to say. He had never heard Thialnir speak so long, nor so eloquently. Obviously, and understandably, he had given the matter enormous thought.

"When people want to hate, they will find a way. It may require distortion of facts.They may have to rewrite history. But they will justify their hatred and still believe themselves to be good people. Unlike honor, truth is not subjective; yet even those who believe themselves most virtuous will find ways to rationalize their own prejudices, even while condemning others. Loathing Renshai has become so natural, so ingrained, that people don't even consider it an immoral thought anymore. The more successful we become, the more times we survive, the deeper that rage grows. Otherwise decent people would side with Northmen who slaughter them simply because those Northmen are our enemies. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' only applies when it doesn't mean siding with Renshai."

Saviar studied Thialnir's craggy face. Who are you? "That's… a very negative way to look at the world."

Thialnir patted Saviar's shoulder. "Trust me, Saviar. I've lived a long time, listened to a lot of morons in nobles' clothing."

"Why are you telling me this?" Saviar had enough problems without his leader heaping on more.

Thialnir removed his heavy arm, turned gracefully to fully face Saviar, and put a hand on each of the younger man's shoulders. "Because you're about to go among real strangers for the first time, and you need the tools to stay alive. Be proud of who you are, but there may be times when you want to hide it, even if it means lying."

Saviar scowled, bothered on three counts. First, Thialnir simply assumed he had already chosen to chase his brothers. Second, his father had taught him to embrace honesty at all times. And third, the words sounded suspiciously like a slight to his swordsmanship. "I can handle myself."

"You can defend yourself," Thialnir corrected. "That is not the same as 'handling.' "

"I understand diplomacy.You've seen me use it."

"You're fluid enough," Thialnir admitted. "Friendly interference clause aside." He rolled an eye in Saviar's direction, then smoothly looked away. Clearly, he did not intend to blame, only to explore Saviar's own emotions on the matter.

Thialnir's last words hit Saviar like rocks, and that surprised him. He had gone over the wording of that clause in his head a million times, wrapping his thoughts around it, amending it in his dreams. He thought he had left the guilt behind, but it clearly remained only shallowly buried. He could not stop himself from answering defensively, "My clause wasn't the problem. It was the ridiculous interpretation of it that lost the battle." Saviar realized he had to convince himself more than he did Thialnir. He could never fully escape the worry that he had permitted the treachery against his mother and ultimately doomed the Renshai. "And don't go telling me how fair and perfect my grandfather is."

Still clutching Saviar's shoulders, Thialnir fully met his gaze, brows rising. "I frequently disagree with Kedrin, including his interpretation of this clause. I didn't bring it up to blame you for what happened, Saviar. It's no more your fault than it was Calistan's. I'm simply trying to make a point."

"Which is?" Saviar prompted carefully.

"You're still young and a bit naive, though not nearly as much as either of your brothers. Just realize this: as a Westerner, you will be judged on the basis of your actions and character. As a Renshai, you will be judged on the basis of others' prejudices. If a Northman dismembers you, those who know you as Renshai will find excuses to rationalize his behavior."

Saviar rolled his eyes, tired of the speech. "But if I dismember him, they'll punish me. Except, I wouldn't dismember anyone, not even my worst enemy."

"No, Saviar. You don't understand." Thialnir's pale eyes seemed to bore through Saviar's. "If you do nothing but defend yourself, you will be punished and despised. If you dismember him, they will not only slaughter you, they will use it as an excuse to condemn the entire tribe of Renshai."

It seemed like rampant paranoia. "Really?"

"Really." Thialnir released Saviar's shoulders, but not his gaze. "The kings of Bearn are chosen by a fail-safe test. A ruler like Tae comes along once in a millennium or two, if the world is lucky. You will find the rest of the West's leaders, and those of the North, as fallible, fragile, and opinionated as any of their followers.

Saviar nodded. He believed he understood Thialnir's point and would take it to heart.

"Your brothers…" Suddenly, the words stopped coming so easily to Thialnir.

But Saviar appreciated the point. Despite his inhuman skill, though he had fought in the Pirate Wars, Calistin knew very little of societies and strangers. Subikahn had split his time between the Fields of Wrath, with its sole focus on swordplay, and his indulgent, royal father.

Thialnir finished lamely. "They need you, Saviar. More than I do."

"I'll do my best," Saviar promised, wondering how he would find either of his brothers.The cares of the last few days, once overwhelming, now seemed petty in comparison. His mother had done what any Renshai would have. His father's collapse spoke volumes for the love he held for Kevral; Saviar could only pray he found a woman worthy of such intense affection in his own life. Banished from the face of the universe, Subikahn had a right to choose which law he violated. And Calistin… was Calistin. Saviar saw no sense in trying to analyze someone, it seemed, he could never understand. Subikahn was right. It's me, not the world, that went insane. "But I'm not a very good liar."

Thialnir managed a single barking laugh. "That," he said, "is not a flaw." He headed back to help tend the pyres, without bothering to watch Saviar go.

Though it seemed futile, Saviar rushed back to the spot where he had left Subikahn. His twin had learned the art of concealment and silent movement, not only from the Renshai, but also from his father. By now, he was probably halfway to Pudar, flitting through shadows and cursing his brother with every step. Saviar had about as much chance of finding him as the most timid squirrel in the forest.

But as Saviar dashed into the clearing, he found Subikahn leaning casually against a tree. "What took you so long?"

Saviar laughed, catching Subikahn into an embrace and practically dancing with joy. "How'd you know I'd come looking for you?" He added quickly, "And don't remind me we shared a womb. That didn't give me any mind-reading powers."

"I didn't know. I hoped."

"And it paid off." Saviar released his twin, spreading his arms wide. "Here I am."

"Lucky me." Subikahn slung a light pack over his shoulder and headed into the brush. "My reward: I get to travel with a man who refers to me as 'idiot.' "

Saviar followed his brother. "Not anymore. I reserve that name for our idiot brother."

"I take it his interest in your health was… less than sincere?"

"Just a ruse to allow him to escape without his… um… shadow." Saviar could not understand how the same brush that glided soundlessly around Subikahn crunched and rattled beneath his own feet.

"Poor Treysind."

"Lucky Treysind, if you ask me. At least now he has a chance to join some normal family in the West. To survive longer than Calistin's next battle."

Subikahn wove through a ring of trees. "Where do you think he went?"

Although they had been talking about Treysind, Saviar knew Subikahn meant Calistin. "Straight North, I'm sure. To even the score."

Subikahn made a thoughtful noise. "And us? Where are we going?"

Saviar snorted. "I'm following you. Please don't tell me you're following me. I'm not fond of circles." He clambered over a deadfall. Whatever else Subikahn decided, he hoped it included dinner and sleep.

"I'm going to investigate. I believe I can find enough evidence to prove the Northmen cheated, get the decision reversed, and win back our homeland." Subikahn corrected, "Homelands. Both of them."

Saviar heaved a sigh, but listened. Right or wrong, foolish dream or possibility, it was not a bad idea. "There's one thing I forgot to tell you while I was calling you an idiot and you were calling me an obnoxious, lumbering bastard-for which only one of us has apologized, by the way."

"Which one?"

"Me. I promised not to call you an idiot anymore."

"And yet, you've managed to sneak it into the conversation three times. And that's not actually an apology."

"Fine. I'm sorry I called you an idiot."

"And I'm sorry I called you 'lumbering.' "

The implication did not escape Saviar. "Hey!"

Subikahn laughed. The sound seemed strange; yet, somehow, it shattered the suffocating mantle of grief, outrage, and irritation that had hung over Saviar since the Northmen had challenged the Renshai. Nothing had changed; and yet he had.

"What did you forget to tell me?" Subikahn stopped pushing through brush to regard his brother. "Before we got sidetracked by name-calling?"

Saviar flushed, feeling foolish. At the time, it had seemed inappropriate, his father's desperate attempt to use his status to save his sons from the fate of their comrades. Now, it might well save their lives. "We're not actually banished."

Subikahn's eyes seemed to bulge from his face. "What?"

"Papa negotiated some sort of deal because we're only half-Renshai and our only living relatives, our fathers, are not…"

"… Renshai." Subikahn finished. "So, I'm only really exiled from the East."

"Yes."

"And you called me an idiot for not going with you there."

"I apologized."

Subikahn whirled back the way he had been going, though he did not take another step. "So we don't need to blither around in secret."

Thialnir's words remained strong in Saviar's mind. "Well, I'm not sure it's wise to investigate openly. I really don't feel like explaining our situation to every passerby who wants to report us, and I'm sure the agreement at least implied a certain amount of discretion on the part of us and my father."

"So, we shouldn't go around slaughtering in the name of the Renshai."

"That's really not funny." An idea wound its way into Saviar's mind, and he spoke it aloud before he could consider it fully, "While we're investigating, maybe we could do… good deeds?"

Subikahn cocked his head. "Good deeds? You mean, like Knights of Erythane."

It was not exactly what Saviar had in mind. "All right. Like knights."

"Help people with broken equipment or injured animals?"

"Yes."

"Fight off brigands and bandits?"

"Sure."

"Rescue damsels in distress?"

Saviar smiled. "My personal favorite."

"Just out of the kindness of our big, fluffy hearts."

"Well," Saviar admitted. "I do actually have a motive." He looked directly at his twin, hoping Subikahn would understand and not think him crazy. "We wait until the populace loves us. Only then, we reveal that we're Renshai."

"Why?"

"Because." Finally forced to consider, Saviar hesitated. "Because it will make us feel good, and it will force people to reevaluate their knee-jerk hatred for all things Renshai."

Apparently, Subikahn actually considered the proposal, and his answer became more important to Saviar than he ever would have guessed.

Please think it through. Please don't be facetious. The silence that followed was the longest of Saviar's life.

"That's actually not a bad idea…" Subikahn could not help adding, "… for an obnoxious, but not lumbering, bastard."

He said it with such a broad grin, with such obvious love, that Saviar found it impossible to take offense. For the first time in months, Saviar felt happy, complete, and also tired and hungry. "I need to eat," he announced. "And sleep."

Subikahn dropped to the ground. "I thought you'd never ask."