Flight of the Renshai

CHAPTER 44

Saviar had no difficulty finding his father's white charger, a beacon amidst the milling infantries on Bearn's southern beachfront. For the first time, it bothered him that the Knights of Erythane had chosen such a garish symbol of leadership. It made them easy to recognize among the peasantry, but it also branded his father the obvious target for every missile and sword.

As the three walked along the beach, struggling through scraggly weeds and clambering over heaps and dunes, it soon became clear that Ra-khir studied them as well. Silver Warrior faced in their direction. One of the knight's gloved hands sat squarely on his forehead, shading his eyes from the reflected glare. He clambered down from the horse long before details became clear. He could not yet have recognized their features, but he already seemed to know that he needed to greet these newcomers, that they headed toward his unit.

Apparently, Subikahn also noticed. "He knows it's us."

"You think so?" Saviar tightened his grip on Chymmerlee's hand to help her slog through a loose pile of sand. "How could he possibly know? I wouldn't have known it was him if the guard hadn't told me. He looks like any other knight."

Subikahn grinned. "They do try their best to appear identical, don't they? But if anyone's askew, it's always Ra-khir."

Saviar also smiled. It had become a family joke, one neither Ra-khir nor Kedrin appreciated. Ra-khir did spend the most time performing stable muckings, cleaning tabards, and mending hats. If a hair was out of place, it was a red one. If a sword angled slightly off kilter, it was always Ra-khir's. Saviar did not know if his father truly had the worst eye for perfection or if his grandfather simply tended to expect more of him and thus focused on every tiny flaw.

They watched as Ra-khir handed his reins to a boy and started walking toward them.

"Oh, yes," Subikahn said confidently. "He's recognized us."

Saviar could not argue. It certainly seemed as though the knight intended to greet them warmly.

Then, suddenly, Ra-khir was running toward them, and Saviar felt a smile stretch across his face, his own feet moving without the need to guide them. And, a moment later, they fell into one another's arms, laughing, smiling, clinging.

"Papa," Ra-khir said into his father's neck. "You're all right."

"I'm all right?" Ra-khir laughed again. "I thought you were dead."

I was, practically. Saviar did not bother to share that information. Barely over his paralyzing grief, Ra-khir might see that as a reason to protect his oldest son mercilessly.

Ra-khir disengaged from Saviar to face Subikahn. The Eastern prince reached out a hand in greeting, but Ra-khir ignored it, catching his stepson into an embrace as loving as his son's. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Hey," Subikahn said breathlessly. "I'm little; I can actually break." As Ra-khir eased his powerful grip, the prince added in his normal voice, "You knew it was us long before you could see our faces. How?"

"Movement, mannerisms." Ra-khir studied them both as he talked. "A man knows his sons."

Subikahn jabbed a finger at Saviar. "Sons, see? I wasn't lying."

Ra-khir finally turned his attention to Chymmerlee, executing a grand bow. "Forgive my rudeness, beautiful lady. I'm Sir Ra-khir Kedrin's son, Knight of Erythane in the service of their Majesties, King Humfreet of Erythane and High King Griff of Bearn."

Chymmerlee curtsied nervously. "So I'd gathered. I've heard a lot about you, Sir Ra-khir. All of it very good."

Saviar supplied the one amenity she had missed, "Her name's Chymmerlee, Papa. She's a friend."

Curious faces watched the reunion from the beachfront, and Saviar suddenly recognized them. "Sif and Modi, Papa! You're commanding-"

"Sir!" Subikahn shouted over his twin, with a rudeness Ra-khir would never have tolerated from Saviar.

Ra-khir would usually haughtily refuse to acknowledge such a discourteous plea, but the volume and abruptness of the call apparently had him turning to Subikahn before he could think to stop himself.

Subikahn's cheeks reddened in tight circles. "Sorry, sir. I was just thinking the war could start any moment, and I really need to get Chymmerlee somewhere safe."

"Actually," Chymmerlee said, her voice seeming small and sweet in the wake of Subikahn's cry. "I need to stay within visual distance of the war."

Subikahn swiftly lost his embarrassment. "Is there someplace like that, Ra-khir? Someplace she can watch from a safe distance?"

Only then Saviar realized the mistake he had nearly made, the one Subikahn had covered with his abrupt rudeness. Saviar had been about to say "Renshai"-a word that would have shaken Chymmerlee terribly.

Ra-khir licked his lips, clearly weighing his words. "To be brutally honest…" He paused to glance in Saviar's direction, looking to him for clues on how much information Chymmerlee could handle.

Saviar nodded decisively. Chymmerlee had a purpose, and shielding her from the truth would not make the threat as clear. She, and her people, needed to know and understand the worst case scenario.

Thus encouraged, Ra-khir finished. "… our enemies are ruthless killers of men and women. No place in the world is safe." He made a broad gesture that encompassed the massed ships. "But, if I had to pick the most secure location from which to watch this war, it's the peak of Bearn Castle. Matrinka's there, the whole royal family." His gaze flicked toward the mountain castle. "But the guards certainly won't let just anyone join them."

Saviar took Chymmerlee's hand, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by his father. "I'll convince them."

"No," Subikahn chimed in. "It'll have to be me."

Saviar's brows furrowed, and he gave his twin a curious look. "Do you think you're more convincing than I am?"

"No," Subikahn said, smiling. "Definitely not. But…" He tipped his head to Ra-khir, allowing him to explain what apparently seemed obvious to Subikahn.

Ra-khir accepted the burden. "He's a prince, Saviar. His words, no matter how well or poorly spoken, carry a lot more weight than yours do in royal situations."

Subikahn turned his twin an irritating "I told you so" expression.

"But there's a more important reason why Subikahn should go instead of you."

Those words surprised both of the young men, and a note of unhappiness in Ra-khir's tone struck Saviar. He looked at Subikahn, who had dropped his sneer for an expression of innocent uncertainty. He, too, had detected something in Ra-khir's delivery.

"Subikahn, your father's at the castle."

Subikahn blinked. When he replied, he sounded suspicious, defensive. "Yeah? So?"

Ra-khir's brows lifted, and creases appeared in his forehead. "He's badly injured, Subikahn. I've talked to some of the healers.

More than one thinks he's only lived this long because Matrinka's convinced him his lethal wounds… aren't."

Other than a slight trembling in his hands, Subikahn gave no reaction. Not a hint of emotion crossed his features. He took Chymmerlee's other arm, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Saviar. Dutifully, wistfully, he released her to the care of his brother.Without another word, Subikahn headed toward the palace.

Saviar watched them go, startled by the drop of a heavy, gloved hand on his shoulder.

"There's something going on between you, isn't there?"

Saviar turned to his father, "Well, we are brothers."

Ra-khir chuckled. "Not you and Subikahn, you goose."

It was the first time Saviar could remember his father engaging in name-calling. He would have smiled if not for the burdensome news the knight had dropped just moments earlier. "Is King Tae really going to… die?"

Ra-khir shrugged. "Matrinka's a gifted healer, and she seems utterly convinced she can fix him. But he's also one of her closest friends. I'm not sure she's able to see his situation objectively."

Saviar could only nod. He could not imagine the world without Tae Kahn. Some of his fondest memories involved romping on the floor with a king who could switch from childlike to manly in an instant. At times, Saviar had envied Subikahn his father. He could scarcely imagine Ra-khir or Kevral wrestling in the dirt with them or playing seek and hide games involving windowsills, precious heirlooms, and swinging from chandeliers.

"Of course," Ra-khir added thoughtfully, "it wouldn't be the first time Tae surprised everyone. He won't talk about it, but his body is riddled with old wounds, the kind of scars that run deep. He's been stabbed and shot dozens of times. He once fell off Bearn Castle in the winter and got trapped under a solid layer of ice for only the gods know how long. And he's still here, Saviar. He's still here."

Saviar had seen some of those scars, including the one directly over Tae's heart. "He's ornery, Papa. Neither Valhalla nor Hel wants him, so they keep throwing him back."

Ra-khir laughed. "I hope you're right." He started back toward Silver Warrior. "So, are you going to tell me about this lady of yours?"

"Gladly." Saviar walked alongside his father. "What man doesn't relish the opportunity to talk about his…" Saviar paused to pick the right word. "… budding girlfriend."

"Budding?"

"Well, I haven't known her all that long," Saviar admitted. And half of that time I was in a coma. "Thialnir is set on me courting only Renshai, and his argument is a good one."

Ra-khir sighed. "Please don't take this as criticism, but Chymmerlee doesn't seem…"

Saviar waited out the pause.

"… exactly the Renshai type."

The words confused more than offended. "What do you mean?"

"She seems… quiet. She's not carrying any obvious weapons. You just seem very… different. From one another, I mean."

Saviar could not help interjecting, "You mean, different? As opposed to you and Mama?"

Ra-khir stiffened only slightly. Apparently, he had gotten far enough past the grief to function normally, even when the conversation turned directly to Kevral. "Yes, we were different, all right. And it worked, but it wasn't easy. There were lots of problems to overcome, from inside and outside the marriage. Even to the very end." He managed a lopsided smile. "But I loved her like the stars love the sky. I would have dug to the world's core had she only asked." He gave Saviar a steady look. "Is that how you feel about Chymmerlee?"

"No," Saviar admitted. "Not yet, anyway. But I like her an awful lot, and I want to get to know her better."

"And your brother?"

"Well, of course I love him. Not sure I'd dig to the world's core for him, though."

Ra-khir stopped walking. "Are you being deliberately dense?"

"What?" Saviar came to a halt at his father's side. "No. What do you mean?"

"Tae and I were rivals for your mother's hand, you know. I'd hate for you boys to fall out over a girl."

"Oh."The idea seemed patently ludicrous now that Subikahn had shared his secret. "That's not a problem, Papa."

"You're sure."

"We've talked it out. Subikahn is not attracted to Chymmerlee."

"Good." Ra-khir continued, taking Silver Warrior's reins from the boy holding them. "Thank you, Darby. Mount up."

Only then, Saviar noticed the only other horse in the vicinity, a light brown chestnut. The boy scrambled to obey. Darby? Who in Hel is Darby?

Apparently noticing Saviar's consternation, Ra-khir made the introductions. "Saviar, this is Darby. My squire."

"Squire?" The word startled from Saviar's mouth; he had not meant to speak it aloud. But, once spoken, he had to continue, "As in, training him to become a Knight of Erythane?" Saviar felt suddenly hot all over. He had to bite down on the angry words taking shape in his head.

Ra-khir swung into his own saddle. "Yes, of course."

"But I… I was supposed to…" Supposed to what? Saviar had expressed interest in becoming a Knight of Erythane, but he had never followed up on it in any way. The Renshai training kept him too busy, then his work toward becoming Renshai leader, followed by the exile. He had left Ra-khir in the night, sleeping, without so much as a good-bye.

Darby dispersed the awkward moment with a happy greeting. "You must be Saviar. I'm so glad to finally meet you."

"I'd say the same." Saviar tried not to sound as grumpy as he felt. "But I didn't know you existed."

"Well, now you do." Ra-khir wheeled his mount. "Saviar, Thialnir and I need your help. Commanding Renshai is rather like taming volcanoes or herding butterflies. They seem to listen to you two, somewhat. Can you help?"

Saviar looked out over the ocean, where the enemy ships massed, then to the Renshai. They milled without pattern or structure, some sharpening weapons, others sparring, still more engaged in wild svergelse. Something much bigger than who squired his father lay at stake. "I'll help any way I can." He smiled blandly. "Just call me Saviar Ra-khirsson, volcano tamer."

Subikahn could not open the door. He did not know how long he stood outside, his hand resting on the latch, his brain numb. Once the royal family had accepted responsibility for Chymmerlee and taken her to her quarters, he found himself incapable of clear and rational thought. She had served as a lovely distraction on which he could no longer depend. The moment he eased open that door, he had to face King Tae Kahn Weile's son. The very idea churned acid through his gut.

Subikahn heard someone approach from behind; his Renshai training would not allow a potential threat to go unnoticed. Logic overruled instinct. No one currently in Bearn Castle would harm him, and it seemed like too much trouble and energy to turn.

Matrinka came up beside Subikahn and rested her hand on his. "It's all right, honey. He's going to be fine."

Subikahn turned to face her, glad to give his hand to her, any excuse to remove it from the latch. "Your Majesty-"

"Matrinka," she corrected, her features stern. "No formality between old friends."

At nineteen, Subikahn found it difficult to say he had any friendships he could consider long-standing. But he had known Matrinka nearly since birth. "I-I've heard a rumor."

"Yes?"

"That his injuries…" Subikahn wanted Matrinka to finish.

Matrinka did not oblige, but she did answer his actual question. "The other healers don't understand. They see a wound and pronounce it fatal for any man." She turned him a grin, lopsided from weariness and discomfort. "Your father, Subikahn, is not 'any man.' "

Subikahn held his breath, afraid of what he might hear. It would not surprise him to find out that animal blood ran through the veins of his paternal ancestors. Are we demons? Sorcerers? We can't be god-blooded. "What do you mean?"

Matrinka took Subikahn's other hand. "I mean, your father… he survived… what he survived in childhood, you know. And I don't know if he was born with an iron nature or acquired it through what happened when he was simply too young to know he should be dead; but I've seen him wounded worse than this before. I've pronounced him dead on at least one other occasion, yet he's still with us: then… and now."

Subikahn blinked. He had no idea what she was talking about. "Your Maj…" he started; then, remembering her admonishment, changed in mid word, "… trinka. What happened?"

"Sword cut and arrow shot," Matrinka explained, "a bad fall, a long float in the ocean, and a shark attack."

Subikahn went even stiller, if possible. He had meant his question to refer to the childhood incident, but the current information stunned him. "All of that?"

"I'm afraid so."

Subikahn swallowed hard. How could anyone survive that? The idea of walking through the door became even more difficult. "When you mentioned what he survived in childhood, is that where the scars came from?"

Matrinka was visibly startled. "You don't know? He's never told you?"

Subikahn hesitated, worried Matrinka would keep the confidences of her longtime friend she considered a brother. He thought about lying but doubted he could successfully pull it off and get the answers he had sought for as long as he could remember. "He always dodges the question. I want to know. Tell me."

Matrinka looked from the door to Subikahn, as if weighing her loyalties to father and to son. Finally, she sighed. "Enemies of your grandfather tortured and slaughtered your grandmother, stabbed your father at least a dozen times, and left him for dead. My understanding is that there was more blood on the floor than inside Tae when Weile found him."

Subikahn did not allow himself to cringe. He did not want to discourage Matrinka. The scars riddled Tae's chest; the assassins had clearly intended to kill him. Surely, Matrinka had nothing to add.

But the queen of Bearn continued talking. "And before he turned your age, Weile sent Tae out alone, experienced killers at his heels, to 'toughen him up.' " She snorted. "Toughen him up? He's the toughest son of a bastard in the kingdom, I'd guess. Maybe in the world. He hated his father for doing that to him, despised the entire world for a while, and vowed that he would keep his own child safe and close. Which is why, Subikahn, he's always been so sweet and loving with you."

Has he? Clearly, Tae had not told Matrinka of their falling out, how the king had exiled the son he had promised to keep safe and close. "So," Subikahn said without a hint of emotion. "He's going to recover?"

Matrinka heaved another, deeper sigh. "It's up to him, now, Subikahn. The salt water cleansed his wounds nicely, and I've given him potent herbs to keep infection at bay." She shrugged. "He's living from event to event, which is never a good thing. First, he was just going to drag on long enough to get Imorelda safely to me. Then, it was until he described his scouting mission to someone in authority. Now, he's waiting to settle things up with you."

Icy prickles passed along Subikahn's shoulders to his fingers. He could not help wondering how much Matrinka knew. "Settle things up?"

"You know, the father/son deathbed speech. Half promises, half pep talk. I've seen a number of them. Very inspiring, but also a perfect excuse to… surrender."

Subikahn guessed her point. "Surrender… to death, you mean?"

"Yes."

Subikahn stepped back, relieved. "So, the longer I delay this meeting, the longer he lives?"

"No." Matrinka would not let him off that easily. "Subikahn, you have to see him. No matter what I think, his wounds are serious.You may not get another chance, and we will both hate ourselves forever if you don't see him before he dies."

Or I die. Subikahn realized Tae's fate might prove less tenuous than his own once the battle began in earnest.

"Just… be sure you leave something undone or unsaid. Something significant that will obsess him until the wounds have more time to heal. Give him a new short-term goal to live toward."

Subikahn tried to ask casually, "And I suppose you don't want me to give him any… stress."

"Stress," Matrinka repeated thoughtfully. "A child in his second decade not giving his father stress?" She snorted. "If you start getting all sweet and sappy on him, he'll think he's dying for sure."

Subikahn could not help smiling. "All right, then." He took his hands from Matrinka and put one on the latch again. "If I can just remember how to open a door."

Without warning, Matrinka put her hand over Subikahn's, tripped the latch, and eased the panel open. She nudged him forward, and Subikahn stumbled just enough to allow her to close it gently behind him.

Thanks. Subikahn found himself in a large room furnished with enough chairs and benches to hold a small meeting. The bed took up the far corner, across from an open window that admitted flower-scented air in the occasional huffs of wind. Across from it, Tae leaned on a bunched and colorful blanket, two others spread across his legs and abdomen. His bare chest looked thin, sallow instead of its usual healthy olive, and the scars stood out in mute testimony to past hardships. Remembering the story Matrinka had told him, Subikahn could not help wincing at the sight of them.

Apparently noticing the direction of Subikahn's gaze, Tae pulled up one of the blankets.

Imorelda strolled across Tae from legs to abdomen, as if he were nothing more than furniture. She yawned and stretched each paw delicately.

"Hello there, Papa," Subikahn said cheerily, as if they had seen one another mere hours ago. "How's your life going?"

Using Tae as a launch site, Imorelda sprang at Subikahn. Suppressing the urge to dodge, Subikahn managed to catch the large cat, holding her as she rubbed her head all over his face in greeting.

"Bit tenuous at the moment, I'm afraid." Despite the warning in his words, Tae managed a smile. His features looked wan, older; but his dark eyes remained clear. His usually tangled hair had been combed to an ebon sheen.

Subikahn did not know what to say. "Papa, I know I wasn't supposed to see you for another year, and you told me not to run to Erythane. But under the circumstances-"

Tae nodded. "You did the right thing, Subikahn. Bearn needs everyone. Everyone. Especially talented swordsmen like you."

Subikahn saw no need to respond to the compliment. No Renshai would.

"I love you, Subikahn." The words seemed to come from nowhere. No thread of the conversation had brought Tae there.

Subikahn set the cat back down on the bed, absently stroking her head and back while she stretched and turned to bring the right places under his hand. Her purr filled the room. "Stop it, Papa. I talked to Matrinka. I know you're not dying."

Tae grimaced. "Matrinka's words do not determine the fate of the universe."

"No," Subikahn admitted, drawing a hard, wooden chair directly up to the bedside. "But you'd be hard-pressed to find a more skilled healer. If she says you're not dying, I believe her." He abandoned the cat to sit.

Imorelda continued purring.

"What if I told you I can feel my body decaying day by day? That each time I awaken, it's a painful and terrible surprise." Red-tinged froth bubbled from his lips as he spoke, and he wiped it away with the already stained corner of a blanket. "That it's a fight I want to quit now, a battle I just can't win."

Subikahn bit his lip. He would not lie, not this time. "I'd say you were a coward and a craven, misjudged by the Renshai. A man like that does not deserve to have his blood in the Renshai pool."

Tae lowered his head. "Matrinka said you'd say that."

"Matrinka's words," Subikahn said, "determine the fate of the universe."

Tae managed a laugh, though he cringed at the obvious pain it caused him. "If only that were so, there would never be another war." He wiped away more blood-tinged drool. "Subikahn." Tae's tone grew intent, serious. "When I sent you from the East, I had no idea the Renshai would become Western exiles."

"Barred from the North, West, and East." Subikahn shrugged. "Where was I supposed to go? Another world? A star? Valhalla?"

"I'd have found a way."

It was truth, Subikahn knew. He had heard enough stories of his father's exploits. "Yes, but you're a sneaky little sod who can eavesdrop on anyone. I wouldn't put it past you to have already picked up the enemy's language." He gestured in the general direction of the shore. "I'm not like you, Papa. I'm not tough as steel."

Tae's brows eeled upward. "You must have inherited that softness from your mother."

"Funny." Subikahn had never considered how an aggressive, uncompromising Renshai and a man with a constitution of iron had created a sensitive daisy like him. "Maybe Saviar shared some blood with me in the womb."

"Maybe." Tae did not seem convinced, or else he did not think it mattered. "Then perhaps I can blame Ra-khir for putting me in the position of…"

"Position of what?"

"Nearly having to execute you for being a-"

"Bonta?"

Tae looked away. "I was going to be more discreet."

"More discreet than bonta?"

A hint of command entered Tae's voice, weak but clearly there. "Stop saying that!"

"Bonta, bonta, bonta!" Subikahn continued to stare until Tae finally met his gaze again. "It's what I am, Papa. I'm a bonta. Your son, Prince Subikahn Taesson the bonta."

"Stop saying bonta."

"Why, Papa?" Subikahn would not relent. "Why should I stop saying bonta? What's wrong with bonta? I like the word bonta. Bonta just rolls off the tongue." He remembered his conversation with Saviar and could not help grinning. The more times he used the word, the less power it held over him.

"Because it's a derogatory term. Degrading. My son is not a bonta."

"I am, too."

Tae held up a hand. "He's a… a… lover of men."

Warmth flooded Subikahn. At least, his father seemed to have grasped the most important point, to have accepted the once unacceptable. "Fine, I'm a man-lover, a sodomist, a daisy. Call me what you want, but I'm done sleeping with women. It's…" He could not think of a suitable word, so he resorted to childish slang, "… bleffy."

"You tried?"

"I did, Papa. Many times." A terrible thought occurred to him. "You could have an illegitimate grandchild out there somewhere."

"And you're still…"

"… a lover of men.Yes, Papa. It's not something I can change any more than I can my parentage. I'm stuck with you as a father, and you're stuck with me as a…"

"… son?" Tae inserted.

"As a bonta."

"Stop saying that!"

Subikahn took the sober route this time. He had had enough fun at Tae's expense. "It's just a label, Papa. Like prince. Or Easterner."

"Except that label is punishable by execution."

Subikahn leaned forward. "As opposed to… Renshai? In some places, it's a crime just to speak the name. They consider us anathema, to be killed on sight."

"Not in the East, anymore. Weile repealed that law."

Subikahn stared at his father, wondering how long it would take Tae to see the obvious solution now that he had practically spoken it.

"I still think we can fix you, Subikahn."

"No, Papa. I'm not broken." Subikahn resorted to Kevral's words, "It's the way the gods made me." He noticed the cat staring at him, waving her tail fiercely, demanding more pets.

"The gods, Subikahn, are not infallible. They make babies without legs sometimes, with extra fingers. I once saw a stillborn with two heads."

"Fine." Subikahn saw no reason to argue the point. "Perhaps they made a mistake with me, but it's not something that needs 'fixing.' I like being a…"

Tae winced.

"… lover of men. A lover of one man in particular." The image of Talamir sent a wave of comfort through Subikahn. He pictured the blond in his mind: strong, confident, handsome, with blue eyes a man could get lost in. "Papa, you know what it's like to be in love. The kind of love that overwhelms you, against which you measure every person, every emotion, that crosses your path. Imagine if Kevral had chosen to marry you. Talamir-"

Tae made a gasping sound that completely upended Subikahn's thoughts.

"What's wrong?"

All the color drained from Tae's face.

Subikahn sprang from his chair. "Are you choking? What can I do?"

"Talamir," Tae said. His voice sounded feeble, but not gravelly or breathless.

Subikahn tried to guess the source of Tae's abrupt discomfort. "He didn't rape me, Papa. I swear it. I initiated the… the contact. He was nothing but sweet and gentle and loving…"

Tae only looked more uncomfortable. Subikahn took several nervous steps backward. He's going to die. He's going to die right in front of me. "Matrinka's right outside the door. I'll get her."

"Just give me one last hug." The words came out hoarse, painful.

Matrinka's words echoed in Subikahn's head: "… be sure you leave something undone or unsaid…"

"The hug can wait." Subikahn started for the door. "I'm getting Matrinka."

Imorelda yowled and sprang from the bed.

"No," Tae said. "I'm not dying right now. At least not any faster than a moment ago. I need to tell you something; but, once I do, I won't have any right to request another hug. Ever."

Subikahn turned and studied his father. Tae looked awful: skin drawn over bones, sallow and sunken; but the eyes still contained plenty of life. The sound his father had made in his throat had nothing to do with breathing, only desperate concern that his son would judge him harshly. About what? Subikahn had a sudden, gripping feeling in his chest. He did not want to know, but he could stand the suspense even less. "What?" he asked carefully.

Tae gestured him closer, demanded the embrace.

Subikahn obliged, but he found it difficult to put much emotion into the gesture. If he squeezed too hard, he might worsen the injuries, and worry about the forthcoming news made him tentative. He stepped back. "Now, tell me."

"Subikahn." Tae's voice emerged surprisingly clear now, as if the embrace itself had cured him. "My one and only son."

Subikahn gritted his teeth but refused to speak.Words would only prolong the already interminable wait.

"Sentence was pronounced on Talamir."

All thought drained from Subikahn's head. "What?" The world seemed to disappear around him: sight, sound, touch. All that remained were the smells: blood and herbs, sickness and the aroma of flowers on the breeze from the windows. "Sentence… for what? What kind of sentence?"

"Talamir confessed to the rape, Subikahn. Freely and without coercion. In front of the entire court."

"Confessed?" The word confused Subikahn further. "But he didn't-" Subikahn tried again. "Tally didn't rape anyone; he couldn't. Why would he…?" Nothing made sense.

"Then, he mutilated two elite guardsmen and attempted to kill me. High treason, Subikahn. The sentence-"

Subikahn knew the obvious sentence, for either crime. What he could not grasp was Talamir admitting to having done such a thing, Talamir losing his sanity in the courtroom. Subikahn's mind drifted back to the fateful night that seemed so long ago. "If your love is real and strong," Tae had said, "it will survive two years of separation." Subikahn clung to that. "But you promised, Papa. You said that I could come back to Tally in two years, if our love survived."

Tae sighed. His head seemed to collapse into the pillow. "I'm sorry, Subikahn. Talamir is-"

"No!" Subikahn could not bear to hear the last word. "No!" The agony that descended upon him was so raw it pained him worse than any physical wound. "No! No! No!" He whirled without thinking, wrenched open the door, and darted from the room, nearly colliding with Matrinka. Without so much as a mumbled apology, he burst through the hallways, down the staircases, in a blind, deaf fog of anguish. He did not stop running until he found himself outside, with no memory of opening any doors or facing any guardsmen. There, he threw himself into the grass, alternately sobbing and screaming, ranting and melting, until all understanding became buried in a dark morass of impenetrable grief.