All the Paths of Shadow (49 page)
“Then we shall not. Ever, if you wish it.”
The child’s bat-winged kite darted and swooped Donchen waved to the child, who waved back and shouted a greeting lost in the breeze and the distance.
“There is still much unresolved,” said Donchen. “I regret I have been unable to learn the identity of the man who used hidden spells to gain entrance to your king.”
Meralda shrugged.
That seems so long ago
, she thought.
“What was the point of all this, anyway?” she asked, after a long moment watching the Tower’s shadow reform.
“The Accords?”
“No. The Vonats. Those among your people who worked with them. The spells in the Gold Room. All of it. Why?”
Donchen sighed. “Politics, for the most part, I suppose. My people are staunch traditionalists. This new partnership with the Realms is upsetting to some of those in power.”
“I’ve noticed something, Donchen.”
Donchen smiled. “And what is that, Meralda?”
“You’re very careful with your words. You said ‘for the most part.’ Which implies there’s something more.”
“Does it really?”
“It does. Is now the time you stop being forthcoming?”
Donchen shook his head. “All I have are suspicions. Suspicions, rumor, and scraps of legend. None of it makes sense, even to me. But I tell you the truth, Mage Meralda. When we’re both rested, we’ll have a nice meal of sweet and sour pork and then we’ll find a comfortable couch and I’ll tell you all of it, rumor and legend alike.”
“Fair enough.” Meralda brushed back her hair. “You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you? Going home, I mean. Back across the Sea.”
Donchen shrugged. “One day. But not soon. Perhaps not ever. Politics are involved, I’m afraid. One of the reasons I’ve spent so much time here in the Realms.”
“Fromarch and Shingvere hinted at some dark secret concerning you,” said Meralda. “Please don’t tell me you’re heir to the throne.”
Donchen laughed. “Hardly. Well, only in the most oblique manner possible.”
Meralda turned to face him. “What?”
“I am the second son of the second son of a House that once rivaled Chentze,” he said. “Que-long is childless. The shuffle for power has already begun.” He shrugged. “I want no part of it.”
“Your status as ghost?”
“All of us in line for the throne share it,” he said. “It is meant to protect us from assassination. And perhaps to teach us self-reliance. In any case, my ghosthood expires next year. If I am in Hang when it expires, my own very personal expiration is likely close behind.”
“So you’re a prince?”
“In a manner of speaking. But a most reluctant one. I prefer the kitchen to the throne room. Would you be able to keep company with a humble chef, I wonder?”
Some last vestige of the shadow moving spell careened past and engulfed Meralda and Donchen in a brief, warm burst of light.
Meralda moved closer, turned Donchen’s face toward hers, and drew him into a kiss.
He took her hands in his.
The light failed. The Bellringers grinned and elbowed each other and turned suddenly away.
“Welcome to Tirlin,” said Meralda. “Let’s stay and watch the sunset.”
Frank Tuttle
Frank Tuttle first began writing under the woefully mistaken impression doing so would release him from the burden of ever doing honest work. “It turns out writing is hard,” said Frank as he pulled out great handfuls of hair. “That was never mentioned in Strunk and White’s
Elements of Style
.”
Frank’s first published works appeared in print magazines such as
Weird Tales
and Marion Zimmer Bradley’s
Fantasy
Magazine in the late 1990s. Since then, Frank has published six Markhat novels and a variety of shorter works.
Frank rarely resorts to hair-pulling these days, preferring to weep inconsolably while affixing his toupee.
Frank invites you to visit his website www.franktuttle.com or email him at [email protected].
Coming Soon by Frank Tuttle
All the Turns of Light
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