Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) (27 page)

He had heard that voice in dreams even after escaping; he had forgotten those dreams, the words that once more caught him, held him motionless, his throat clogged with fear. Cold sweat ran down his back, he could scarcely breathe, he scarcely knew where he was or when—

At the screams, he fell back into the present. A baby crying, screaming—and now two of them, loud enough to hear through the closed doors and the passage between. Shaking, he stood up, staggered a few steps before he caught his balance, and went quickly through the passage to the queen’s suite. Arian was awake, sitting up in bed; nursemaids had already picked up the twins from their cradle. Wide-eyed, Arian stared at him. “Kieri! What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

He could not answer. He stood there, his ears almost shattered by the volume of the babies’ cries, desperate and helpless. Arian looked back and forth from him to the babies and pushed herself out of bed. She went first to the nursery maids. “Are they injured?”

“No—they just woke suddenly, screaming—”

“Take them down the passage, all the way to the back of the palace—you—” She spoke to the Queen’s Squires who had looked in to see what the commotion was. “—go with them. Walk them up and down; it will soothe them. I will deal with the king.”

The nursemaids carried the babies out; Arian came to Kieri. He could not look directly at her. Tears blurred his vision. Her hands on his were warm, firm but gentle. “Kieri … you are in some evil enchantment. Let me help.”

He shook his head. She must not come closer—what if it caught her, too? But she was already there, her grip now commanding, pushing him toward one of the chairs set near the fireplace. “Sit—you are trembling enough to fall.”

He sat as if his legs had failed. She sat across from him, holding his hands … he looked down at hers, such strong, competent hands,
only to see them change, broken, twisted, bleeding, and hear Sekkady’s triumphant, gloating laugh as he had heard it the very night he escaped while the man who freed him suffered.

A groan burst from him, and a fresh flood of tears. He clung to Arian’s hands until finally he could breathe again. She pulled one hand free and wiped his face with one of the towels laid by the fire for the nursemaids to use. He reached for it and began mopping his face himself.

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Shhh. You have done nothing wrong—”

“Nothing but put you in mortal danger, you and our children both—”

“What? How?” She sounded far too calm, he thought.

“The selani tiles … I was looking … thinking …”

“Thinking what?”

“Something Caernith said about them and something Paks said—I can’t say it, Arian. I
can’t
.”

“Don’t, then.” She got up, dipped another towel in the can of warm water on the hearth, and wiped his face, then his hands. “I remember what Caernith said. What memories prompted your thoughts?”

“I was … hoping … that something horrible could not be true,” he said. He looked at her then; she showed no fear, nothing but concern for him. He took a breath; his voice steadied. “But the tiles gave me no hope.”

“You know the tiles do not show an immutable future,” Arian said. “If they warn of danger, we will meet it. If they promise doom, we will defeat it.” She put out her hand; he took it automatically. “Whatever it is … we have already defeated the Pargunese, the iynisin who sought our deaths and dishonor, that one who poisoned me and betrayed you … We will prevail.”

His breath eased. “Arian—there are things I never told you—”

“Of course there are. We both have fifty years and more behind us, and we have been together only two winters: we have not begun to tell each other everything.”

“But this is important. The man who … who owned me for most of my childhood—”

She put her hand on his lips. “Kieri … is this a tale best told late at night? I can see you need to tell it, but should it not be told by day, in clean sunlight?”

“I do not know,” he said. “Memories, bad memories … I had forgotten, meant to forget forever, but they have come now—”

“We have two problems,” she said. “A daughter and a son who woke screaming, I think from their link to you—for when I woke, the entire taig was roused. If it can wait until daylight, if you can be calm and let the children rest—”

“It is for the children I fear,” he said.

She sighed. “Well, then. One night without sleep will not kill any of us, even the babes. Come—we will go back to your chamber and see those tiles, and you can tell me all.”

He began with what she already knew and then with what he had not told her before, and what he now feared. “He said I would always be commanded by his magery because my blood was in his stone. But after all the years, I was sure he must be dead. When Tamarrion and the children were killed, I wondered if he might have done it. But that was orcs, and how could he have commanded orcs from so far away?”

Arian said nothing, just held his hands, strength and clarity in her grip. Was it her own elven magery? Or just her character? He went on, more slowly now. “When I first heard of the Verrakaien changing bodies, it did not occur to me—it should have—that he might have done the same. I didn’t ask Dorrin. I didn’t think …”

Arian glanced at the selani tiles still on the table. “Perhaps this is your thought rising again in the wake of the magery you did with Paks. Seeing those old magelords—perhaps they reminded you of Sekkady.”

Kieri took a long breath. “Perhaps. I didn’t think of that … they were from a time when he could not have been alive. Unless … 
could
someone really live so long?”

“I doubt it,” Arian said. Her brow furrowed in thought. “Surely the mind wears out. We must ask the elves.”

“Not elves,” Kieri said. “They do not pay enough attention—or not always. They might not recognize someone in a different body.” He looked over at the tiles, each rune clear in the lamplight. “If it was
my hidden thought coming forth that moved the tiles … then I should be grateful … but I cannot.”

“I can,” Arian said. “For if we know a danger is possible, we can think how to meet it. It is the unknown danger that defeats forethought.”

Kieri felt his heart lift at her confidence. “There are always unknown dangers, but you’re right.”

“Well, then. Do you think any of those old magelords you propose to wake from enchantment knew a version of Sekkady? They certainly cannot know you were his …” Her voice faltered.

“His
slave
,” Kieri said firmly. “No. Even if he was alive then, in an earlier body—and they knew him—I was not yet born, so they could not have known about his use of me. But if his powers are from those days, which
is
likely, then any of those magelords could pose a similar threat once awakened.”

“And that is good to know,” Arian said. “We will be alert to such dangers.”

“But how will we know? How do we know he’s not here now? It could be anyone.” Fear gripped him again.

“Let me try the selani tiles,” Arian said. She moved to the other side of the table, and—looking Kieri in the eye—picked up the tiles on the table, dropped them back in the box, stirred all with a finger, and then drew one out. “Ah. The one we’ve picked so many times:
Awake
. So we shall be, awake, alert, and … let’s see.” She drew another one. “Joy.”

Kieri shook his head. “Your skills exceed mine when it comes to finding good outcomes.”

“I have not endured what you have. That cruelty would leave darkness in anyone it touched.” Her expression hardened. “I would gladly kill him if he is not dead. Not only for your sake, though that is enough, but for the sake of all he tormented.”

Kieri shook his head. “No—it is my past and mine to solve.”

“If he threatens our children and you are not near—I will kill him. Do not say no.”

Kieri nodded. “I would never ask you to let harm come to our children—for any reason. If—if the worst comes and he overpowers
me … if I stand between him and you, if I become a danger to them … kill
me
if you must.”

“Kieri! NO!”

“Can I be certain I will not yield to his magery? Suppose he was right and implanted something in me—or the stone really does control me—” Panic rose again; he heard it in his voice.

“It won’t. I’m certain it won’t. You were not controlled by elven magery—not even an iynisin. And you escaped him when you were but a boy.”

“With another’s help.” He had told her that before; now the details seemed important. “We must face the possibility that I am not really free of him.”

“And this is what kept you up so late?”

“I … think so. Yes. The selani tiles seemed to … to threaten me with that.” He shook his head sharply. “It is being a father again, Arian, that frightens me most. That children of mine could suffer as I suffered. Sekkady … if he lives, if he comes,
that
is what he would want to do. Make them suffer. Make me see it and be unable to stop it.”

“Then you will stop it,” Arian said. “Having thought now it might happen, you will think how—and you will stop it.”

“How can I know—?” That came out in a rush, and grief cut it off.

“Ahead of time? You can’t. I didn’t know I could ride in a dragon’s mouth. I didn’t imagine I would ever need to. But I did—and you will do whatever you need to protect the children—all the children—and so will I.”

“My lord.” Caernith, one of the western elves, bowed from the doorway. “We are returned from the west.”

Kieri looked up; more than a hand of days had passed since that terrible night. He was still shaken, but calmer and glad he had not needed to cope with the elves immediately. In the meantime he had changed his mind: they needed to know what he and Paks had done. “Welcome back,” he said.

“I bring a message from our king to you, my lord, and another for the queen. Our king rejoices in the birth of your heirs and in the queen’s health. He is concerned, however, that you are no closer to knowing how to awaken the sleepers under stone.”

Kieri nodded. “It is true; I am not any closer to that. I have asked all I know what they know, and what they know is nothing … There are no records, or even stories, about waking someone from a long enchantment. But on another matter—”

Caernith bowed again as he interrupted. “Please. I bring other messages from our king, written in our language as the king cannot write in yours. For this reason I must be privy to what he said, to translate for you. Your elvish is not yet advanced enough, and mistakes are easy to make.”

“Very well,” Kieri said. Best to let Caernith have his way, though he could now read elvish tolerably well, he was sure. He could surprise Caernith afterward.

Caernith pulled a scroll case from his doublet and then a scroll, bound with ribbons, as Kieri’s own letters were, but with braided grass, still fresh and green by elven magery, and with a sprig of some conifer tucked into it.

“Yew,” Caernith said, pulling it out. He sniffed it and gave it to Kieri. “The choice of a sprig carries part of the message. In this case, warning.” He slid the grass ring from the scroll, and—as Kieri had noticed before—the scroll unrolled itself, the graceful elvish writing clear against its creamy smooth surface. “By your leave—” he said, and gestured.

“Of course. Bring a chair.” He glanced at the scroll while Caernith fetched a chair, pleased to find that he could read all of the salutation and much of the first three lines, though he came to a word he suspected of complicated meaning.

“This message,” Caernith said as he sat down, “is longer than it seems.” He put a finger on the scroll. “It is in what I believe you call a code, a way of saying more than is said on the surface.” He moved his finger in a pattern, and new smaller lines appeared, seeming to stack behind and between the those Kieri had seen. “When I put my finger on this—” He touched one of the lines, and it grew in size,
seeming to come forward. “—I can read it easily and know its correct place in the sequence. I will begin now.”

“Will you teach me that?” Kieri asked.

“Yes, but not at the moment. There is urgency.”

Kieri nodded, then watched and listened as Caernith read something far longer than he would have thought could fit on a single sheet that did not even cover his desk.

“Alliance? Luap was their ally?”

“It is possible he did not know what he did, but he offered no resistance to them,” Caernith said before reading on.