Traitor's Moon

49 SURRENDER

Lulled by the motion of the ship, Seregil slept deeply in spite of what lay ahead. He'd half hoped, half feared to dream again, but when he woke before dawn the following morning, he remembered nothing. Beside him, Alec frowned and muttered in his sleep, then came awake with a startled gasp when Seregil brushed his cheek.

Glancing out the tiny window at the end of the bunk, Alec settled back on his elbows. "Feels like we're still under sail."

Seregil shifted for a better look. "We're a mile or two out. I can see lights in Gedre."

They said little as they dressed in borrowed clothes. With a pang of regret, Seregil took off Corruth's ring and hung it around his neck on a string. The Akhendi bracelet was at the bottom of his old pack, wrapped in the Akhendi sen'gai they'd taken from the ambushers.

"What about our weapons and tools?" Alec asked.

"Wear your sword," Seregil said, buckling his own on. "Leave the rest here; I doubt we'll be allowed anything more dangerous than a fruit knife after today."

No one sailed out to meet them this time. Leaving his escort at the harbor's mouth,

Korathan anchored out beyond the piers and was rowed ashore in a longboat with the two wizards. Seregil and Alec followed in a second boat, hooded and anonymous among Korathan's guard.

"Riagil must suspect something," Alec whispered, scanning the distant crowd waiting for them on the shore.

Seregil nodded. It appeared that most of the city had turned out for their arrival, but there were no signs of welcome: no singing, no boats, no flowers strewn on the water. He rubbed his palms nervously on the legs of his leather trousers, knowing every pull of the oars brought, them closer to what might prove a very disheartening moment of truth.

His sense of foreboding grew as they ground to a halt in the shallows, greeted only by the rough sigh of the wind and the slap of waves along the beach. They waded in behind Korathan and his entourage but hung back out of sight.

Following Seregil's instruction, Korathan stopped just above the water's edge, waiting to be summoned onto forbidden soil.

A man stepped from the crowd, and Seregil saw with relief that it was Riagil i Molan. He must have headed home as soon as their disappearance was discovered. The khirnari approached Korathan unsmiling, hands clasped in front of him rather than extended in welcome.

Alec shifted restlessly, knee-deep in the surf.

"Be patient," whispered Seregil. "There are forms to be observed."

"Who are you, to come to my shores with ships of war?" Riagil demanded in Skalan.

"I am Korathan i Malteus Romeran Baltus of Rhiminee, son of Queen Idrilain and brother of Queen Phoria. I do not come for battle, Khirnari, but seeking teth'sag for the attack on my sister, Klia a Idrilain, and for the murder of her envoy, Lord Torsin. By my blood tie to the Bokthersa, I claim that right."

The tension broke as Riagil smiled and walked down to meet him. "You are welcome here, Korathan i Malteus." Riagil removed a heavy bracelet from his wrist and presented it to the prince. "When I left Sarikali your sister still lived, though she remains ill and in seclusion. Her people protect her well. I will send word of your arrival to the Iia'sidra."

"I wish to speak with them myself," Korathan told him. "I demand an audience in the queen's name."

"This is most irregular, to say the least," Riagil said, taken aback by the man's abrupt manner. "I do not know if they will allow you to cross the mountains, but rest assured your claim of honor will be heard."

"The atui of Gedre is well known," Korathan replied. "To prove my own good faith, I honor the teth'sag of the Haman against my own kinsman."

On cue, Seregil waded forward, eyes averted. Splashing up to the beach, he drew his sword and drove it point first into the wet sand. "You know me, Riagil i Molan," he said, pushing back his hood. "I acknowledge that I have broken teth'sag and of my own free will surrender myself to the judgment of the Haman and the Iia'sidra." Dropping to his knees, he prostrated himself facedown, arms extended at his sides in a gesture of abject submission.

A moment of eerie quiet followed. Seregil lay absolutely still, listening to the water trickling between the grains of sand beneath his cheek. Riagil could by rights slay him with his own sword for breaking the decree of exile. If he were in league with Akhendi, it would be a most convenient tactic.

He heard muffled footsteps approach, then, from the corner of his eye, saw the sword blade shift slightly as someone grasped the hilt.

Then a firm hand closed over his shoulder.

"Rise, Exile," said Riagil, drawing him to his feet. "In the name of the Haman, I take you captive." Lowering his voice, he added, "The Iia'sidra are awaiting your return before the vote is taken. You have much to explain."

"I'm anxious to do so, Khirnari."

Alec splashed up beside them, planted his sword, and assumed the ritual posture.

"As a Skalan, you must be judged by your own people, Alec i Amasa," Riagil said, lifting him up. At his signal, one of his kinsmen collected their swords. Several others fell in beside Seregil.

"I must ask two things of you that may strain your patience, Khirnari," said Korathan. "These two must be allowed to speak on my behalf, regardless of the sentence passed against them. They came to me at great peril to their own lives to bring news of who has attacked my family."

"I have to speak to the Iia'sidra. Emiel i Moranthi's life and the honor of three clans depend on it," Seregil told him. "I swear it by Aura's name."

"This is why you left?" Riagil asked.

"It seemed reason enough, Khirnari." Not quite a lie.

"I would also prefer to keep their return secret until we arrive in the sacred city," Korathan added.

Riagil noted Seregil's bruised face and nodded. "As you wish. It is enough that they have returned. Come, Korathan i Malteus, you shall be made welcome in my home until the will of the Iia'sidra is known. I'll send word to Sarikali at once."

And so it was, a short time later, that Seregil found himself once more in Riagil's painted courtyard. He and Alec sat apart from the others under the watchful gaze of their guards while Korathan and his people were given wine and food.

"At least he hasn't chained you," Alec remarked hopefully.

Seregil nodded absently, studying Korathan. It had been thirty years or more since they'd roistered through the Lower City stews together. Time had taken a harsh toll on the man, leaving him grim to the point of melancholy most of the time. Seated under the gnarled shade tree, he seemed uneasy with the peaceful setting-unmoved by the warm sunshine or the smiling, generous Gedre attending him.

A man made only for war, Seregil thought. Yet a man of reason as well, or they wouldn't be sitting here now.

Within the hour Riagil rejoined them bearing good news. "The Iia'sidra has granted you entrance to the sacred city, Korathan i Malteus," he announced happily. "There are restrictions, however."

"I expected as much," Korathan replied. "And they are?"

"You may bring your wizards, but no more than twenty soldiers, and you must order your vessels to anchor outside my harbor."

"Very well."

"You must also invoke your blood tie to the Bokthersan clan in order to declare teth'sag. Adzriel will act as your sponsor before the council."

"So I've been told," the prince replied. "Though I do not understand why my sister Klia was allowed to speak for herself, but I am not."

"This is different," Riagil explained. "Klia came to negotiate. You are bringing a matter of atui before them and, I'm sorry to say, some of the clans could challenge your right to do so. The Tirfaie— any Tirfaie—do not have the same rights under Aurenen law. Rest assured, Adzriel will be a great help to you."

Korathan glowered at Riagil. "You consider us a lesser race, then?"

The khirnari pressed a hand to his heart and made him a slight

bow. "Some do, my friend; not I. Please believe that I will do all in my power to see that your sister and Torsin i Xandus are accorded justice."

The column set off that afternoon with Riagil and twenty Gedre swordsmen as escort. There were no pack animals or musicians to slow them down this time. Not one for unnecessary ceremony, Korathan and his riders traveled as if they were on campaign, carrying only what they needed.

Seregil and Alec rode with the Skalans, wearing the tabard and wide steel hats of Korathan's personal guard.

"In uniform at last, eh?" Seregil said, grinning as Alec fidgeted at his helmet strap. "Between that and your dark hair, I doubt even Thero will recognize you."

"Let's just hope the Akhendi don't," Alec replied, warily scanning the cliffs that hemmed in this section of the road for trouble. "Do you think anyone will notice we're the only members of the prince's guard not carrying weapons?"

"If anyone asks, we're Korathan's personal cooks."

They bypassed the Dravnian way station to make camp farther up the pass. At the first stretch of guarded trail, Korathan accepted the blindfold with good grace, commenting only that he wished Skala had such safeguards.

They reached the steaming Vhada'nakori pool late the following morning and halted to rest the horses. Seregil and Alec remained with the soldiers while Riagil guided Korathan and his wizards up to the stone dragon.

Seregil's mare liked to suck air when being saddled, and he'd felt the saddle begin to slip during the last blind ride. After watering her, he tightened the girth strap, giving her a smart slap on the side to make her exhale.

As he worked, he listened with half an ear to the various conversations going on around him. Korathan's riders had struck him as a dour lot at the outset, but their Gedre counterparts were beginning to win some of them over. Some of them were stumbling along now in a jumbled argot of Skalan and 'faie, trying to make themselves understood. But he also caught a troubling undercurrent from some of the Skalans—muttered complaints about blindfolds and "strange, unnatural magicks." It seemed that Phoria was not alone in her distrust of the 'faie, and in wizards in general. This was a new attitude for Skalans, and it troubled him profoundly.

He was just finishing with the strap when suddenly everything went very still.

"Son of Korit," a voice said, speaking close to his ear.

The hair on his neck prickled. Turning sharply, he expected to find a rhui'auros or khtir'bai behind him. Instead, he saw only Alec and the soldiers still going about their business, though he still couldn't hear any sound.

Wondering if he'd suddenly gone deaf, he turned to steady himself against his horse and found a dragon the size of a hound perched on the saddle. Its wings were folded tight to its sides, and its neck was arched back like a serpent's. Before he could do more than register its existence, it struck, clamping its jaws around his left hand just above the thumb.

Seregil froze. He felt its heat first, hot as an oven against his skin, then the pain of teeth and venom slammed up his arm.

He grasped his horse's mane with his free hand, willing himself not to jerk away or cry out. The dragon's claws scraped pale lines in the saddle leather as it tightened its grip and gave his hand a sharp shake. Then it went still again, watching him with one hard yellow eye as blood welled from its scaly mouth and ran down his wrist.

O Aura, it's a big one! Dangerously big. Its jaws reached to the other side of his hand.

"That will leave a lucky mark."

The pain quickly swelled to something approaching rapture. The creature seemed to fill his vision, and he stared at it with an agonized reverence as hazy golden light coalesced around them. Its scales reflected the sunlight with an iridescent sheen. The stiff spines on its face twitched slightly as it held him, and wisps of vapor rose from its delicate golden nostrils.

"Son of Korit," the voice said again.

"Aura Elustri," he whispered, trembling.

The dragon released him and flapped away across the steaming tarn.

Sounds rushed in on him, and suddenly Alec was there, easing him down to the ground as his legs gave out under him. Seregil stared dazedly down at the double line of bloody punctures that crossed his hand, back and palm.

"Larger than Thero's," he murmured, shaking his head in amazement.

"Seregil!" Alec said, shaking him by the shoulder. "Where did it come from? Are you all right? Where's that vial?"

"Vial? Pouch." It was hard to concentrate with his entire arm on fire from the inside. People crowded in to see, overwhelming him with noise.

Alec tugged the pouch free from Seregil's belt and shook out the glass vial of lissik the rhui'auros had given him—the one he'd very nearly left behind.

He let out a strangled laugh. They knew I'd need it. They knew all along.

Alec gently worked the dark, oily liquid into the wound, easing the worst of the burning.

The crowd parted for Korathan and Riagil. The khirnari knelt and took Seregil's hand, then called out for herbs.

"By the Light, Seregil!" he murmured, quickly assembling a poultice and wrapping it around his hand with wet rags. "To be so marked, it's—"

"A gift," Seregil croaked, feeling the dragon's venom spreading through his body, turning his veins to wires of hot steel.

"A gift indeed. But can you ride?"

"Tie me on, if you have to." He tried to get up and failed. Someone held a flask to his lips, and he gulped down a bitter infusion.

"You're trembling," Alec muttered, helping him up. "How are you going to manage?"

"Not much choice, tali," Seregil replied. "The worst of it should pass in a day or two. It didn't bite too deeply, just enough to mark me and make me remember."

"Remember what?"

Seregil grinned weakly. "Who I am."