Shadows Return

CHAPTER 2 Too Much, and Not Enough

PHORIA AND HER army sailed back to Rhíminee at the end of Rhysin, and rode up to the city through the Harbor Way, through the cold autumn rain and the last of the falling red and gold leaves. The official Progress would be held the next day, but this entrance was carried out with as much pomp and ceremony as if the war had ended, rather than trailed off in yet another season of stalemate.

Peace still seemed beyond anyone’s grasp, but Phoria had decreed that there be a new holiday in the calendar-the Celebration of Returning Heroes-nonetheless. The stated purpose was to commemorate the year’s victories-without mention of the defeats, of course-and to honor the fallen. She’d done the same last year, when hopes had been higher.

The rain- soaked banners and golden shields hung along the streets looked a little forlorn this year, thought Alec, as he and Seregil stood with the common masses along the walls of the Sea Market, well bundled against the damp chill off the sea. From here they had a good view of the queen as she rode by, brilliant even in this watery light in her gold-chased war helm and breastplate, holding the great Sword of Gherilain upright before her. Even more than the crown, the ancient blade was the most potent symbol of her reign, both as ruler and the country’s supreme war commander. The first time Alec had seen Phoria’s mother, Idrilain had been wearing that same armor, and that sword had been hers.

Phoria’s twin brother, Prince Korathan, rode on her right. He was the Vicegerent now, and it was odd to see him, her equal as a warrior, dressed in robes of state and the flat velvet hat instead of a commander’s uniform. His greying blond hair was still long, in contrast to most of the court. Sitting his huge black charger with the ease of a born warrior, he cut an elegant and regal figure. Unlike Phoria and their younger sister Aralain, he had always been friendly with Seregil, and with his half sister Klia, too. Alec liked him for that.

The rain pelted down harder, but they lingered on, counting regiments and banners. By the time the last men-at-arms marched past, Alec estimated she’d lost nearly five hundred soldiers, and this was only the Rhíminee force they were seeing. The cartloads of funeral urns were never part of the official proceedings.

“Come on,” Seregil said at last through chattering teeth. “The Cavishes will have arrived by now.”

They stole a ride on the back of a passing wagon and arrived back at Wheel Street to find Micum and his family waiting for them in the painted salon.

Kari hurried over to embrace Alec, balancing three-year-old, red-haired Gherin on one hip. The child reached out and grabbed at Alec’s braid. “Muncle Arek!”

“There you are, my sweet boy!” Kari cried, kissing Alec soundly on both cheeks. “A whole lovely summer gone and you only came out to Watermead twice? What has Seregil had you doing?”

“You know better than to ask that, my love.” Micum chuckled, limping over to clasp hands with Seregil. He was dressed for town today in a fine embroidered coat and his best sword belt, and leaning on a polished walking stick with an ivory head carved in the shape of a fish-a gift from Seregil.

It still hurt to see him like this, his stiff leg a constant reminder of that awful day four years ago. They all carried wounds; Micum’s was the most visible, but Seregil’s by far the deepest. The closest he ever came to speaking of it these days were the nights when he woke up yelling or crying, drenched in cold sweat. But none of that showed when he was awake and in command of himself.

Seregil embraced his old friend, then looked around. “And where’s my little bird?”

“Here, Uncle!” Illia came tripping lightly down the staircase, flanked by Seregil’s two huge white Zengati hounds, Mârag and Zir, and carrying her foster brother piggyback. Ten now, Illia was dark and pretty like her mother and middle sister, Elsbet, and trying to act very grown-up. “Luthas wanted to see the picture books in the library again. He remembered them from our last visit. Just a minute, though. I brought you presents!” She let Luthas down and ran back upstairs.

“Uncle!” Luthas ran to throw his arms around Seregil’s knees. Seregil ruffled the child’s hair, but Alec didn’t miss the fleeting look of sadness in his friend’s eyes.

Mercifully, Luthas was too young to remember his mother and grandparents, or how Seregil had saved him from the burning inn. He’d always had a special affection for Seregil, though, and Seregil was always kind to the child, even though Alec knew how he dreaded the day that the boy learned the truth of his past.

Illia clattered back downstairs with two bulky brown bundles under her arms. “I made these for you. It took me all summer!”

Alec unfolded his and shook out a well-made woolen sweater. Seregil’s was the same, in darker wool.

“Well now, look at that.” Seregil gave Alec a wink. “The arms are the same length and everything.”

“I’ll take it back!” Illia warned, grinning too broadly to look very insulted.

Seregil hugged her. “Oh no you won’t! The first flake of snow I see, I’m putting this on until spring.”

“It’s because of all those stories you told me, how cold it was at that cabin you lived in. If you ever go off like that again, you can take these!”

Alec kissed her. “Thank you. And as it happens, we have some surprises, too.”

He went into the dining room and retrieved two little silk-wrapped parcels from the top of the painted plate chest. Returning, he knelt down in front of the boys. “You first!”

Two pairs of eyes widened-Luthas’s the same blue as Cilla’s had been, Gherin’s the same hazel as Micum’s.

“Presents?” lisped Gherin. The shyer of the two, he hung back while Luthas boldly reached for the parcels.

The coverings were loose and quickly cast aside, and both boys crowed happily over the brightly painted toy dragons. Alec had tried to give them toy bows on their last visit, but Kari had put her foot down firmly.

“Give me a few years before you go putting weapons in their hands!” she’d scolded. “Besides, they’ll only put out each other’s eyes with the damn things.”

Alec had had a bow in his hands for as long as he could remember, but he honored her wishes.

“I see you over there, pretending you don’t care for presents,” Seregil said to Illia. “Or are you too old for such things, now?” It was a long-standing game between them.

“Oh, I don’t care!” she replied with a coy smile, twisting this way and that to make her striped skirt twirl.

“Well, then, what am I to do with this?” Seregil wondered, pulling a small box from the air with practiced sleight of hand.

Illia’s dark eyes lit up. “Is it something magic?”

“Not this time, I’m afraid. But if you give me a kiss, I’ll show it to you.”

Illia skipped over to Seregil and sat on his knee to kiss him.

“Alec and I used to promise you necklaces of dragons’ tongues and eyeballs. Do you remember?”

“You didn’t bring me any of those!” She wrinkled her nose comically eyeing the box with distrust. “Did you?”

“You’ll have to look to find out.”

Illia opened the box and lifted out a pair of tiny, tear-shaped pearl earrings. “Oh, Uncle!” she cried, throttling him with an excited hug.

“A young lady old enough to attend a Royal Progress ought to have suitable jewels, don’t you think?” Seregil asked, chuckling. “And I did notice on our last visit that you had your ears pierced. Alec has a gift for you, too.”

“My lady.” Alec presented her with the necklace to match-three matching pearls on a little gold chain.

“You spoil my children,” Micum said, laughing. “Proper uncles, both of you.”

Alec bent to fasten on the necklace. “Stop squirming.”

“I’m too excited!” Illia exclaimed. “We’re going to see the queen, and Beka’s coming home for Mourning Night!”

The chain slipped from Alec’s fingers, and the necklace slithered into the girl’s lap. “She’s coming back from Aurënen?”

“You mean you haven’t heard?” asked Micum. “We had a letter from her last month. Her Urghazi Turma is on border duty above Cirna right now.”

“And Thero?”

“On his way back to the city, last I heard.”

“But not Klia?” asked Alec.

“Not yet. She’s with your sister in Bôkthersa for the winter. A new guard was sent to replace Urghazi Turma.”

“Under whose command?”

“That I don’t know. You mean you haven’t had any word of this?”

Alec shared a worried look with Seregil.

“Maybe they wanted to surprise you,” Illia offered. “Oh dear, and now I’ve spoiled it, haven’t I? But I didn’t tell the other part, did I, Mother?”

“Other part?” asked Alec.

“Beka’s married,” Micum told him. “I believe you know the fellow. A ’faie she met down there, name of Nyal.”

“Our interpreter.” Alec shook his head, smiling. “Well, that’s not much of a surprise. I think you’ll like him.”

“I know I will,” said Illia. “Beka says he’s very handsome!”

Seregil gave her a wink. “He is, indeed.”

“But you mustn’t let on that we told you.”

Seregil fastened the necklace, then swung her around until she giggled. “Don’t you fret, little bird. The joke will be on them when we meet again. Come, let’s go see what Cook’s got for supper.

Seregil kept up a cheerful façade through dinner, but his mind was already turning over possibilities suggested by this new development. This sudden change of bodyguard boded ill for Klia, and Thero would certainly be concerned about it. Why hadn’t he sent word? Phoria had left her popular half sister in unofficial exile all this time, when every good commander was needed in the field. Now she’d stripped her of her trusted entourage and wizard? He began to suspect that Klia’s “visit” with his sister was a strategic withdrawal into friendlier territory.

After dinner they gathered around the hearth in the salon again, Kari and Illia with their knitting, Micum with his pipe.

“Uncle Seregil, why doesn’t the queen like her sister?” Illia asked, looking up from the stocking she was working on.

“Well, they are only half sisters, you know. Klia and her two late brothers were the children of Queen Idrilain’s second consort. And besides, not all sisters get along as well as you and Beka and Elsbet.”

“But why?” Illia persisted.

“It’s not polite to talk about the royal family’s business,” her mother told her. “Tend to your stitches now, and count for the slips. If you don’t turn that heel properly, you’ll give poor Beka blisters.” Kari had been around Watcher business for most of her life and had a good sense of when a conversation wasn’t for young ears.

Alec had somehow ended up on the floor and provided a welcome distraction as he let the two little boys crawl delightedly over him, pulling his hair and wrestling him down onto the rushes. He let them win for a while, then tickled them until they shrieked with laughter and Illia forgot her newfound dignity and joined the fray in their defense. The dogs watched from a safe distance, heads on paws, following the tussle with alert yellow eyes.

Alec had a soft heart for children, and it was never more apparent than around the Cavishes. Seregil had often wondered at that, since Alec had no brothers or sisters of his own, and his father had been a wanderer, never settling anywhere long enough for Alec to make any real friends. Gherin was sitting on Alec’s back now, taking his braid to pieces and Alec laughingly submitted, like an indulgent older brother.

Or a father, thought Seregil. An ordinary, full-blood human of Alec’s age, especially a Dalnan, would have married and fathered a child or two by now.

Seregil was generally very good at not thinking about things that displeased or discomforted him; he’d had a lifetime of practice at that. But when those discomforting things involved Alec, they were harder to put out of his mind.

It was baffling, and not a little annoying, this breach of control.

A touch on his shoulder pulled him from his uneasy thoughts. Micum stood over him, with a look of understanding Seregil wanted no part of. But all he said, with his usual tact, was, “What do you say to a few games of cards? It’s been a while since I’ve taken your money. My purse is feeling a bit light.”

“It’ll be lighter when I’m done with you,” Seregil warned.

“Aren’t we cocky tonight?”

Alec joined them, then Kari, when she’d put the children to bed.

Grateful for the distraction, Seregil threw himself wholeheartedly into the game, and managed to win without cheating much at all.

“I can’t believe no one wrote to us!” Alec grumbled as he and Seregil readied for bed that night.

“Who says they didn’t?” Seregil countered as he sat naked on their wide bed, combing the day’s snarls from his hair.

This room was fitted out with Aurënfaie furnishing, airy and colorful. The gauzy bed curtains rippled lazily as Alec pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the clothes chest across the room. “You think someone has been stealing letters from us?”

“More likely intercepting them from Klia and Thero.”

“But Beka’s got through.”

“To her parents, outside Rhíminee,” Seregil reminded him. “Not to us. If the Watchers were still active…” He worked at another tangle, leaving the rest unsaid. Again.

Alec shucked off his breeches and flopped down beside him. “So what does it mean? I thought Phoria had forgotten all about us. It’s not like we’re any threat to her.”

“We’re friends with Klia, and helped her succeed in Aurënen, when Phoria was against it.”

“Klia’s always been loyal to the throne, and she’s one of the best commanders!”

“Phoria’s a childless queen, Alec, and she’s not young.” Seregil gave up on his hair and tossed the comb aside. “There’s nothing to secure her throne but her own will. Klia could make a claim for it, as Idrilain’s daughter, even if she is the youngest. Hers would be a stronger claim in some minds than Princess Ariani’s, with her war skills, and certainly better than Ariani’s daughter’s.” Of all Idrilain’s children, Ariani, who shared a father with Phoria and Korathan, was the only one with children. The eldest girl, Elani, was supposed by most to be the heir apparent.

“Klia’s always been popular with the people,” he went on. “Why do you think Phoria’s kept her out of sight since their mother’s death? Phoria’s never been one to think the best of others-particularly those she sees as potential rivals. It’s a good trait in a general, but not so good between sisters. The nobility are different, Alec. Don’t ever forget that.”

“You’re a noble,” Alec teased.

“Only a very minor one, and only in the minds of Skalans. I think my people have the right idea when it comes to that. But here it comes down to heirs, and Phoria means to control that and keep it to her own father’s line.”

“Makes them sound like horse breeders,” Alec snorted, climbing under the covers.

Seregil blew out the lamp and joined him.

Alec settled his head on Seregil’s shoulder. “Still, it makes you wonder, doesn’t it, Phoria being barren and all? Why would the gods curse her?”

“A bit of bad luck for her, that’s all. And I’m sure she wouldn’t care, if she wasn’t queen.”

“Mmm. Can’t picture her as much of a mother,” Alec agreed with a yawn.

“Some are better suited than others.” Seregil idly stroked Alec’s bare shoulder, enjoying the length of warm body pressed to his. This was one of his favorite moments of the day. Comfortable and sleepy, he spoke without thinking, as images of Alec rolling around with the children came back to him. “Do you still think about it? What the oracle told you at Sarikali?”

He regretted his careless words the instant he felt Alec go tense beside him.

“Why bring that up again?”

“They aren’t always clear in their prophecies, you know. And I still think maybe you got some of it wrong.”

Seregil’s heart sank further when Alec pulled away and settled on his back. “I’m ‘the wanderer who carries his home in his heart.’ I’m ‘the bird who makes its nest on the waves.’ I will father a child of no woman. And it’s a blessing. What part of that didn’t I understand?”

“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“Until you bring it up again.”

“I won’t!”

“Yes, you will. Just like you did last time we were at Watermead. Sometimes I think it bothers you more than it does me.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

He couldn’t see Alec in the dark, but the sigh that answered spoke volumes. “I am. Let it be.”

Easier said than done. Those uncontrolled feelings were threatening again, chasing away any hope of sleep. “You know, Alec, there’s no reason you couldn’t find some willing girl…”

“Don’t!”

Despite the dangerous edge in Alec’s tone, Seregil pressed on. “I’m just saying that it wouldn’t matter to me if you wanted to get a child on someone.”

There was a moment of truly ominous silence, then the bed lurched as Alec left it. He snatched the robe from the end of the bed and stormed out. A moment later the door of the library down the hall slammed decisively shut.

Seregil sat up, stunned. Nothing like this had ever happened between them. They’d had disagreements, certainly, and even come to blows a couple of times during the long winter days in that cabin, but Alec had never just walked away.

Seregil pulled on his own robe and went out into the corridor. No light showed under the guest chamber doors, but he suspected Micum and Kari had heard.

He found the library door locked against him. It would have been an easy matter to pick it open, but he knew better than to do such a thing. Baffled and more than a bit guilty, he slunk back to his own bed, hoping things would be better in the morning.

They weren’t. Alec came down late to breakfast, and when he did speak to Seregil, it was no more than absolutely necessary. Micum gave them both questioning looks, but it was Kari who cornered Seregil in the garden as soon as the meal was over.

“What did you do to him?” she demanded, already laying the blame at Seregil’s feet.

“Nothing!”

She fixed him with a dark look. “I love that boy as one of my own, and any fool can see he’s hurting. What did you do?”

“It was just a disagreement,” Alec informed her from the kitchen doorway. Coming over, he slipped his arm through Seregil’s. “Nothing to worry about. Right, talí?”

Seregil’s relief was short-lived. As soon as Kari was gone, Alec pulled him to the back of the garden, behind a screen of tall rosebushes. The false smile was gone. He was still fuming.

“If you ever suggest such a thing to me again, you’ll be sleeping alone a lot longer than one night!”

“I thought I was being helpful!”

“Helpful!” Alec’s eyes narrowed dangerously for a moment, but the look quickly changed to one of defeat. “You really don’t see anything wrong with telling me to bed someone else, do you? Is that what you do when you go off by yourself at night? Are you back to your old haunts on the Street of Lights?”

“Well, yes, I went there, but-”

“You didn’t!” Alec gasped.

“What? No! Just to visit, with Eirual and some friends, but not to bed them!” Seregil quickly assured him, and it was the truth. He’d hardly even been tempted.

“And that green-eyed one? Tyrien, isn’t it?”

“Well…yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I just didn’t think-”

“You? You didn’t think something as important as that through?”

“I’d never hurt you, talí. I haven’t touched anyone else, and I won’t!” Seregil whispered, hoping to calm him down before he was heard in the house. “You know I’ve never been with anyone I really cared for before.”

“Not with all the lovers you had?”

“Lovers in name only, Alec. A bit of fun on both sides, and nothing more.”

Alec looked sad. “I don’t see how you could have so many and not love any of them.”

Seregil hesitated, still very much on uncertain ground. Finally, he just shrugged and spoke the truth, stupid as it sounded. “I didn’t know the difference.”

Sometimes Alec’s ability to see through him was a blessing. The last of his anger faded, leaving only a trace of sadness behind. “Do you mind it very much, not being free anymore?”

“I am free, Alec. I’m with you by choice. And I promise you, this is the last time we’ll speak of any of this. I swear it, by the Light, and by my love.” Raising their joined hands to his lips, he kissed Alec’s fingers. Alec pulled him in for a real kiss, then let go and headed back to the house and their guests.

Seregil followed, his relief marred by the knowledge that nothing had really changed. Not for Alec, at least.