Sovereign

CHAPTER 15

The Horse Clan warriors gathered in front of Daavis's rebuilt main gate. Eynon, standing beneath the gate itself, gazed on them with immense pride, the sentiment matched only by his immense sadness there were so few. Except for another two hundred or so warriors too seriously wounded to ride back to the Oceans of Grass, the four troops before him were the entire strength of what had once been one of the Chett's largest and most powerful clans.

And it will be again, Eynon told himself, as he had again and again during the terrible siege of Daavis. He heard the rumble of more horses behind him and turned to see Lynan and Makon riding ahead of several hundred more cavalry. The two men stopped by Eynon and let the force ride by. Eynon counted three troops of lancers and three of the Red Hands.

'I promised them to you,' Lynan said. 'You may keep them under your command for as long as you need them.'

'Thank you, your Majesty,' Eynon said gratefully. 'It won't take long to hunt down the Saranah war band. You'll have your warriors back by winter.'

'There is no hurry, Eynon,' Lynan answered. 'I was thinking you might want to do more than hunt down the war band.' He and Makon shared a secret smile. Eynon was not sure he liked that.

'Meaning?'

'Meaning that if you feel the urge I see no reason for you to stop at the edge of the Oceans of Grass.'

'You mean carry on to Saranah territory?' Lynan nodded, and Eynon already liked the idea. 'To do as I wish?'

'Completely. I remember I also promised to replace every head of cattle you lost. I will, but cannot do it before winter when the clans gather at the High Sooq, In the meantime, you might as well wreak a proper revenge.'

'You are returning to the High Sooq this winter?' Eynon could not hide his surprise.

'No. There is the rest of the Kingdom to win before I return to the Oceans of Grass.'

'Then who will carry your authority at the High Sooq?' Eynon asked,

'You will.'

'Your Majesty—' Eynon blurted.

Lynan and Makon laughed together. 'I told you he would choke on it,' Makon said.

'But what does Korigan say?'

'She is in agreement,' Lynan told him. 'She watched your clan four times assault the west wall of Daavis. She holds no doubts about you or your loyalty to my cause.'

'She even agreed to let me go again,' Makon added.

'Let you go?' Eynon asked.

'Makon knows the Red Hands,' Lynan answered for him. 'He has commanded them in his brother Gudon's absence and has proven himself in combat. Use him as one of your commanders. He can also vouch for your authority at the High Sooq. If those clans traditionally antagonistic to you doubt your word, Makon, being from Korigan's clan, will convince them quickly enough.'

Eynon could not help grinning. 'I would be happy to have Makon ride with me again.' By now the extra six troops had lined up behind Eynon's own. One thousand experienced warriors. With these, Eynon thought, I can carry the war far south indeed.

'Remember, you can take whatever action against the Saranah you deem fit.'

Eynon looked up sharply at Lynan. It was almost as if the prince had read his mind. 'The Saranah will wish they had never left their desert,' he said.

Jenrosa watched Eynon lead his combined force northwest from Daavis. They rode at an easy trot, confident and determined. Casually, almost absently, she licked the tip of one finger and used it to draw a line along the top of the stone parapet in front of her. She breathed softly over it. The only particles to move were made of red quartz. They scattered across the line, but almost immediately a soft breeze blew the other way sending the crystals back again. She was not surprised, but which of her imaginings did it fit? That was something no teacher could show you. One of her first instructors in the Theurgia of Stars had told her that the interpretation of magik was often no more than a test of someone's ability to fit the facts after the event; in other words, prescience was a matter for the gullible. She wanted to believe that, but she could not shake off what she had seen since joining the Chetts and taking instruction under Lasthear.

What Jenrosa did not know, and was afraid to discover, was whether or not her understanding of what her magik showed was the future, fixed and unchangeable, or a future that could be averted—or aimed for—through certain actions. The problem being that the latter seemed too much like prescience for the gullible.

She saw Lynan walking back to the palace. As he passed near her he paused but did not look up. He can feel me watching him, she told herself. We are connected so strongly. A moment later he continued on his way. She observed Chetts bow as he walked by them. She observed the locals bow even lower to avert their eyes from his, the children scampering behind the nearest adult. Lynan, obviously deep in his own thoughts, ignored them all. After Daamis had been taken there had been some looting, but Lynan had quickly stopped it and made sure only soldiers who resisted the occupation were killed. So far as conquerors went Lynan seemed less cruel and more lenient than many others in history. Nonetheless, the citizens of Daamis avoided him when they could; Lynan's appearance and reputation were enough to scare people.

'What are you now?' she wondered aloud. It occurred to her there was an even more important question. What am I now?

She knew she had no answers. For all her power at magik it was a hollow thing, nothing more than a conduit for more mystery and frustration than she would ever have believed possible as a bored student in Kendra all those years ago.

Wait, she told herself. Not years ago. Only a year ago.

'You are thinking of home,' said Ager's voice.

She looked to her left. God, for a crookback he could move quietly when he wanted to.

'You think you are so wise,' she jibed.

'I can tell,' he said, ignoring her, 'because of the look on your face. Whenever you think of home your eyes lose focus and you face towards Kendra. I know a few merchants who would pay a small fortune to have you as navigator on one of their ships. They would always know which direction to travel to reach Kestrel Bay.'

She smiled despite herself. 'You still call Kendra home.'

'Strange, isn't it? I wasn't born or raised there, and I've spent most of my life living somewhere else, but yes, Kendra is the place I always thought of as my home. Maybe it is for anyone who thinks of themselves as belonging to Grenda Lear.' Ager frowned then. 'I don't know that I do any more, not really.'

'It's the Oceans of Grass for you?' Areava asked.

'Perhaps.'

'Morfast is a very beautiful woman,' Jenrosa observed.

Ager grunted, smiled to himself.

'And the Ocean Clan is a noble one.'

'That is my home now, I think.'

'The clan?'

He nodded. 'And what about Jenrosa Alucar? Where is her home these days? With the Chetts? Or do you still pine for the dusty halls of the theurgia?'

'I don't have a home any more,' she said shortly, trying to end the conversation.

'The Truespeaker will always have a home,' Ager countered.

Jenrosa gritted her teeth. 'I hoped you of all people would never call me that.'

'Ah,' Ager sighed. 'So that's the problem.'

'It's not a problem!' Jenrosa spat. 'It's a delusion on the part of Lasthear and others who are so desperate for a new Truespeaker they are willing to see ability where there is none.'

'That's a lie and you know it,' Ager replied sharply. 'Lasthear is no fool, and nor are the other Chett magikers who talk about you the same way the rest of the Chett people talk about Lynan.'

'I don't have to listen to this—'

Ager grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. 'You are behaving like Lynan at the beginning of our exile. You have responsibilities you don't want to face, are afraid to shoulder. That's fine, I understand how you feel. But none of us has an excuse to behave like that any more. Whether we like it or not the entire Chett nation has given itself into our hands. Lynan is their king—even Korigan accepts that—and he has grown to recognise it. I am clan chief, something I have grown to recognise. You are the Truespeake. It is time you grew to recognise that.'

Jenrosa pulled out of his grip. 'And Kumul? What was he meant to be before he was slaughtered?'

Ager shook his head. 'That isn't fair. You were his lover, but Lynan and I loved him as well.'

Jenrosa closed her eyes in shame. 'I'm sorry…'

'Hasn't it occurred to you that we four were meant to leave Kendra together when we did? That fate or God or whatever it is that rules our lives had a purpose for us? Lynan will be king of Grenda Lear, of that I have no doubt now. I, who belong to the ocean, rule a clan named after it. You, a student magiker who never fitted in with the theurgia, discover you are perhaps the most powerful magiker of all. And Kumul… Kumul was our hero and sacrifice. He will be remembered by the Chetts for longer than you or I. Every time a Chett whispers the name of Lynan Rosetheme, the White Wolf, they will also whisper the name of the Giant, Kumul Alarn. His life was the price he paid for that destiny. He had no more say in it than we have in ours.'

'And what will be our price?' she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Ager looked away from her. 'I do not know.'

'I see only blood in my future, but whose blood I do not know.'

'Don't be afraid now, Jenrosa. We have all gone too far to be afraid any more.'

'I don't believe in destiny, Ager,' she said. 'That would be a worse fate for us than you could imagine.' And as she said the words she realised she spoke the truth, and some of her doubt was lifted from her mind.

Lynan sat on Charion's throne. It was almost exactly the right size, he realised. Then it must be my destiny to possess it, he told himself.

The man standing in front of him presented a peculiar mixture of fear and disdain. He was an ordinary looking fellow, someone Lynan would not have noticed in a crowd, but there was something about his character that he found very attractive, something he could not yet put his finger on.

'I am told your name is Farben,' Lynan said.

'Yes.' One of the Red Hands jabbed him in the back with the pommel of a sword. 'Your Majesty,' Farben finished.

Lynan hid a half-smile behind a finger. 'And you were Charion's secretary?'

'Queen Charion's secretary. One of them.'

'Do you know where she has gone?'

'For a ride,' Farben said. 'I expect her back shortly.'

'With an army, no doubt.'

'No doubt at all.'

'And you stayed behind to protect her home and hearth?' Farben did not answer. 'That was very brave.'

'I am attached to the many works of art in this building: statues, paintings, books. I wanted to make sure your barbarians did not use them for firewood or toilet paper.'

That earned Farben another jab in the back. He broke out into a sweat.

'These so-called barbarians now rule your home, Farben,' Lynan said matter-of-factly. 'I would be careful what you say about them.'

'My home is where my queen lives. The Chetts will never rule her.'

That is what it is I like about him, Lynan thought. His loyalty. He is petrified of me, and yet will not deny his fealty to Charion.

'I want you to work for me,' Lynan said. Farben stared at him, wide-eyed. 'I need someone who knows this city to help me administer it.'

'You cannot be serious.'

'You will be serving Charion,' Lynan added.

Farben laughed nervously at that. 'A fine joke, your Majesty.'

'If you truly believe she will return, then surely it is your duty to ensure her city is maintained for her?'

Farben's expression showed his confusion.

'I have already rebuilt the walls and city gate. Most of the rubble has been cleared away. My Haxan allies are rebuilding houses and shops. I want life here to return to normal as quickly as possible, but to best do that I need someone willing to take over the administration who knows the city and its people.'

'You will use the city against your enemies,' Farben said. He straightened himself before adding: 'And they are my allies.'

The Red Hand behind him raised the pommel of his sword again but Lynan waved him down. 'Undeniably. Nonetheless, a working Daavis best serves its own citizens, and those citizens may one day be Charion's once more.'

'Not if you win,' Farben pointed out.

'Don't be so sure. She is not my enemy. My sister is my enemy.' Lynan could see Farben had no answer to that but still he did not look convinced. 'If she survives the war and is prepared to swear her allegiance to me, then I will happily return Hume to her, and Daavis as her capital. But what kind of city shall she receive if the conqueror is left alone to administer it?'

'If I accept your offer people will think I am a traitor,' Farben said feebly.

'Then you have my permission to let everyone in the city know you are working for Charion, and not for me. You can put up notices to that effect if you like. I only ask you do no intentional harm to me or my cause.'

'Your Majesty?' Farben could not believe his ears.

'There is a price to be paid,' Lynan added.

Farben snickered. 'I see.'

'No you do not see. The price is that when Charion swears her allegiance to me, so must you.'

'You could force me to do that now.'

Lynan shook his head. 'You and I both know that is not true. No doubt I could force you to do a great many things. I might even get you to say the words, but they would be empty. I am prepared to wait for true loyalty.'

Farben did not answer for a moment, then—ever so slightly—he bowed.

She was overwhelmingly desirable. Lynan could not help falling into her arms, embracing her as if she was and had always been his true love. They did not speak, their passion so powerful no words could express it. The forest surrounded and swallowed them. The world was rich and green and moist.

He entered her, moved easily in time with her body, His hands felt her skin as smooth as paper. He kissed the sweat off her face and it tasted like dew. Her hair smelled like the earth. In turn she kissed his chest, his cheek, his forehead, his neck and finally his lips. He felt her tongue slide over his own.

Then pain, sudden and sharp, in the back of his throat. He tried to scream but he had no air left. He struggled against her but she was far too strong. She pinned him to the ground, her lips still around his, the needle-like tip of her tongue still impaled in him, sucking out his blood.

But he did not surrender. He placed his hands over the Keys sandwiched between them and held them tight, Strength and warmth shot through his body. The vampire screeched, flew off him into the air. His own blood sprayed down on him. She flapped her giant wings and disappeared into the night sky. He gasped for breath and felt life-giving air fill his lungs, and his eyes opened wide… to see the roof of Charion's private chambers above him, its ornate paintings seeming to come to life in the flickering candlelight beside the bed.

He sat up, panting, and he could taste blood on his tongue. He felt inside his mouth with a finger. There was no wound, and when he withdrew the finger it was unstained. He swung his legs over the side and stood up. The room had windows on two walls. He went to the closest and opened the wooden shutters. Clean night air rushed in, cooling his sweat. An old moon hung low above the horizon. A few wispy clouds faintly patterned the sky.

He gasped in surprise and jerked away from the opening. He had seen something eclipse the moon, the silhouette of a wing. He told his heart to slow down, and his mind to stop imagining things. He peeped out the window. The moon was unchanged. There were no giant wings against the sky. The breeze smelled clean and dry and of ripening grain. It was the smell of autumn.

'Time is running out,' he said softly into the night. 'Time is running out.'

He gathered his clothes and dressed quickly. Two Red Hands looked at him in surprise when he left the room and immediately fell in behind him. Usually he found the close company of his bodyguards irksome, but not tonight.

He found the room he was looking for in a wing of the palace opposite the courtyard from the royal quarters. 'Just like Kendra,' he mumbled to himself. He went to a desk, found paper and pen and ink underneath its lid and brought them out. The two bodyguards stayed at the door.

At first he wrote quickly, but as the minutes passed he slowed down until he was struggling over every word. Nearly an hour later he put the pen down and read what he had written. Then he drew out a second piece of paper and started again, finishing in half the time; this too he read, then folded it carefully and tucked it inside his shirt.

When he returned to his room he found Korigan waiting for him.

'You still awake?' he asked, closing the door behind him and leaving the guards outside.

'I've been thinking about things. I was surprised to find you not only awake but absent.' She patted the bed.

Lynan sat down next to her and kissed her. 'I had some work to do.'

'In the scriptorium.'

He frowned. 'Now how did you know that?'

She held his right hand and opened it palm upwards. 'Ink stains,' she said, and smudged some of it. 'Fresh. Also there's this.' Before he could react her hand darted inside his shirt and took out the folded paper. He tried to snatch it back but she was too quick for him, retreating from the bed and dangling it before him like a lure.

'Letter to some old lover?'

'I don't have any old lovers.'

It was her turn to frown. 'Are you serious?'

Lynan nodded.

'You mean you were a… you know…'

'I am only eighteen,' he said defensively.

'And I was only fifteen,' she retorted, then shrugged. 'Well, maybe you're late developers in the city.'

'I think it's that you Chetts are early starters. It has to do with all the sex you see. The cows do it. The horses do it.'

'Our parents do it.'

'Well, yes, but you don't see…' She was smiling at him with perfect innocence. 'You're not serious?'

'Our parents teach us everything. We don't have schools like in the east, or private tutors like you had.'

'This isn't something any school in the east teaches.'

'And your private tutors?'

He shook his head. 'Regrettably.'

'So I was your first?'

'Yes.'

'I'm flattered.'

'Good,' he said levelly. 'Now can I have my paper back?'

'Personal, is it?'

'Not from you,' he admitted. 'But I'd rather not have it damaged. It took me a long time to write it and I don't want to have to start all over again.'

'I can read it?' she asked.

'Yes.'

Korigan was about to open it, then changed her mind and handed it back to Lynan. 'Not much point, really, if I'm not learning something I'm not supposed to know.'

'Fun or not, it's something you should know. It's a letter to King Tomar.'

'Saying what?'

'Setting out my side of the story about Berayma's murder and subsequent events.'

'The aim being?'

'I conclude by asking him to join me, or at least to offer me no resistance when I move through his territory.'

'So you have decided to move on Kendra through Chandra?'

'It is the obvious way.'

'Something Areava would no doubt be considering.'

'And since it is the obvious way there is no harm in Areava believing it is the way Tomar thinks I will come.'

Korigan's eyes narrowed. 'You are either very clever or very foolish. I cannot make up my mind.'

'Let me put you at your ease, then. I am very clever. Either Tomar joins my cause, in which case the letter has been well worth the time spent on it, or he rejects my cause, in which case he will be duty-bound to inform Areava of the letter's contents.'

Korigan put a finger to her chin. 'In which case the time was still well spent. But you don't expect Areava to believe that going through Chandra is your real intention?'

'As long as she is kept off balance, it doesn't matter which direction she believes I am coming from.'

Korigan laughed lightly. 'Ah, I understand. You yourself don't yet know which direction you'll take.'

'You see through me too easily,' he said.

She snorted. 'Whenever you give in that easily I know, you're not telling me the truth.'

'Aha. That could have been my very intention—'

'Oh, stop it,' she said and leaned forward quickly to kiss him on the lips.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. Then a memory of his dream returned, unbidden, and he pulled back. She saw the expression in his face and grimaced.

'You saw her again tonight?'

He nodded, not willing to say her name.

'She is getting stronger,' she said, then held his head in her hands. 'But I am not Silona. I am Korigan. I am queen of the Chetts and I am your lover.' She took his ink-stained hand and placed it under her own shirt, between her breasts. 'That's my heart. It is yours.'

She kissed him again, and this time he held her close and did not let her go.

Ten days after leaving Daavis, Eynon led his column over the Algonka Pass. A cold wind running from the tops of the Ufero Mountains made him shiver as he paused at the highest point of the pass. He could just make out at the edge of the horizon the first pale green flush of the Oceans of Grass, then the first of his troops trotted past, kicking up dust and obscuring the view. He tapped his mount's flanks and caught up to the lead, resisting the temptation to pick up the pace.

He was joined by Makon. They rode together in silence for a long while, then Eynon asked, 'What's your question?'

Makon smiled easily. The months they had spent together on the Oceans of Grass, first in an air of mutual suspicion and later in an air of mutual suspicion mixed with respect, meant they read each other's minds more closely than either would like.

'I haven't figured out what answer I want yet.'

'Let me ask it for you then. Which way once we reach the plains?' He glanced at Makon, and Makon nodded. 'And then, should we first head for the Strangers' Sooq or for my clan's traditional summer territory?'

'Yes,' Makon admitted.

'Like you I'm probably inclined to get to my territory as quickly as possible, but—undoubtedly like you—I think it's likely any survivors from my clan would have reached the Sooq by now, or at least word of what happened.'

'I am leaning more towards the latter.'

'As we get closer to the time when I will have to make the decision, so am I.'

'Your decision is final, of course.'

'Naturally. I am Eynon, Chief of the Horse Clan. You are Makon, commander of sixth tenths of my little army.'

'Three tenths,' Makon corrected him. 'I have responsibility for the Red Hands. The lancers come directly under your command.'

Eynon laughed to show he appreciated the joke. 'Let's not fool ourselves, Makon. I like you. You like me. That is why Lynan wanted you to come with me. But you are Lynan's man, not mine.'

'Lynan gave me explicit instructions to follow your orders.'

'Come what may?'

'Come what may,' Makon said seriously.

Eynon found himself believing him. Nevertheless…

'Until?'

'Until your task is completed.'

'And who decides when that may be?'

'We will decide it together,' Makon said easily.

'In a council it is always good to have an odd number in case there is an equal division.'

'I will bow to your greater experience in such a situation.'

'Yes,' Eynon said, now serious. 'You will.'

It was Makon's turn to laugh. Eynon had laid the rules by which their relationship would work, and he would abide by them. Both of them understood—without it needing to be said—that ultimately Makon's course would be decided by what best served Lynan's interests. As long as Eynon's own interests coincided, there would be no problem. When those interests diverged new rules would have to be established. Until then, Eynon was chief and Makon his underling.

Before evening fell they reached the end of the pass. In the setting sun the plains shone like gold, and the heart of every Chett felt lighter for seeing it. Behind them the Ufero Mountains marked the boundary between their world and the new world they had set out to win for their new king and the glory of their people. Each Chett knew if they survived the coming war against the Saranah they would return to the east to complete the conquest, but even if every province in the east was to fall to the White Wolf's army so that he could claim every city, every town and every farm, for the Chetts there was and always would be only one true home, and that was the Oceans of Grass.

With the sun shining on their eager faces, the column descended from the pass.