Michelle West - The Sun Sword 03 - The Shining Court (14 page)

"Did she gain it?"

"No, my Lord. But she is—"

"I'm
here
," the voice of that mage now said, her words floating above the noisy wheeze of the injured demon's voice.

"Go, Garrak," Ishavriel said. "I am pleased; if you survive, you shall be noted." He gestured, and his servitor looked briefly surprised before the Lord's magic carried him to sanctuary.

Such sanctuary as existed in the Shining City.

Cortano knew the spell; he had seen it cast several times during the visits to the Court, and he envied the ease of its casting, the lack of apparent cost. He was also keenly curious to know whether or not it could be cast upon one merely mortal without cost to the recipient; he was not, however, foolish enough to volunteer merely to satisfy his own curiosity.

But if there was ever a time when he might relent to such folly, it was now, for Anya a'Cooper was, in his considered opinion, completely and utterly mad; there was no sense about her, nothing at all save a bitter rage and a child's destructive glee and acquisitiveness. She had twice killed human members of the Court, and for this crime there was no recompense, no recourse offered. The kin were destroyed should they breach the laws which allowed the humans and the
Kialli
to coexist in uneasy peace—but Anya a'Cooper was useful enough, and wild enough, that she could not be contained by those laws; she exposed their frailty.

She was also the only human he knew of to openly insult Nugratz, Alcrax, Etridian,
and
Assarak in the same breath and survive; the only one foolish enough to attack Lord Etridian without paying with her life. A close thing, and for what? She thought he had insulted the
color of her words
. She could not be controlled.

Only destroyed, and Lord Ishavriel—indeed, the Fist itself— was unwilling to see that happen. Cortano understood why, but he would not have exposed himself to the risk she represented; indeed, he wished to absent himself, but did not desire his movements to catch her attention.

The
Kialli
concerned themselves with power.

Anya a'Cooper was, in his opinion, the most powerful mage who had ever worn mortal guise beneath the Lord's gaze. Obscene, to waste so much in the form of a woman whose mind was—had been—fragility defined. But obscenity existed. And it had its uses. Her power was, he thought, in no small measure responsible for the speed with which the gate between this world and the Hells had been opened, and if the gate was small and unpredictable, it was growing daily through her efforts. Hers, and the Lord who commanded her.

If anyone did.

"Anya," Lord Ishavriel said.

She paused a moment, her expression openly shifting between glee and suspicion. At last, she said, "You can't hide him from me, Lord. I know where you sent him."

"Impossible," Assarak said flatly.

"That's what you always say, Assarak. That's what you said before I took the spell from your hands and sent—what was his name again?—something-or-other ad'Assarak into the cliff face to join with the rock." She laughed as she said it, and sauntered over to the table.

Lord Assarak stiffened.

Lord Isladar rose as well; Cortano did not. "Anya," Isladar said quietly, "if you wish information, you must join us at the table. It is," he added quietly, "quite black, but there are hints throughout of gold and blue. Come, you may have my seat, in return for which I ask only that you listen quietly."

She wavered a moment, half-suspicious. But there was about Isladar some quietness of manner that often lulled her tempers; he, of all the
Kialli
, had never fueled her sudden rage, piqued her angry curiosity. "I get your seat?"

"My seat," he said, nodding. "Come. I will remake it for you, if you so desire."

It was customary to add,
with your permission, Lord Ishavriel
, for Anya was clearly Lord Ishavriel's keep, but custom was often set aside when dealing with Anya. The great beasts that slumbered beneath the height of the Lord's spires were treated with less uncertainty than she.

"If you insist. You aren't talking about that boring boy again?"

"Which boy is that?" Isladar said, deftly and silently reforming the chair's back so that Anya might be seated in a throne of delicate beauty that better conformed to her diminutive size.

"You know the one—that half-slave that everyone goes on about."

"Ah. His name, Anya, is Valedan kai di'Leonne, and yes, I'm afraid we were speaking of him."

"But why?" She frowned. "I don't want to talk about a stupid boy. If he were here, I'd just kill him myself, and then there wouldn't be much reason to talk, would there?"

"He's not so easy to kill," Lord Assarak replied coldly.

"Oh, well, not for you. But I wouldn't have any problem I'm sure."

"But you might like him, Anya," Isladar said unexpectedly.

"I hardly think so.
I
am a mage, and
he
is a nothing."

"Ah. But he has declared himself a King."

"Well, maybe. But only of the Southern Barbarians, and they're all so stupid they don't even know about the real gods."

Cortano said nothing; she favored him with a side-glance that let him know how intentional the slight was. One day, Lord willing—which Lord, he didn't particularly care—he would see her dead.

"As you say. But he is… a danger to us."

"Etridian was supposed to kill him. I knew it! He failed again!"

One day, Lord willing, Cortano thought, they would
all
find the desire to cooperate for long enough to kill her.

"Yes," Isladar said, "and no."

"Which is it?"

"The boy lives."

"Then he failed."

"But apparently the boy has attracted the attention of a friend of yours."

"I don't have any—" Her eyes widened, and her lips lifted in what looked to be, inasmuch as she could have one, a genuine smile. Her face softened with a pleasure that had no malice and no triumph in it. She was lovely, in a vulnerable, happy way, for as long, Cortano thought bitterly, as it lasted. "Kiriel!"

"Indeed."

"But I haven't seen Kiriel for months!" Her eyes narrowed. "Lord Isladar, you aren't
lying
to me, are you?"

"No indeed, Anya. I see no need to lie. Kiriel di'Ashaf has found a home for herself in the heart of Averalaan." He paused, and looked out through the columns that defined the Shattered Hall's outer edge. "She will be traveling South," he said quietly. "To the Dominion. To serve the boy."

"But are you saying that she
likes
this boy?"

"I am saying only what we know, Anya. She either likes the boy, or she dislikes Etridian enough to interfere with his kill."

"She's done that before."

"I wouldn't know."

"You should. She
has
. I can't believe it! Kiriel! Isladar, this is the best news I've had since she left." A frown creased her loveliness, destroying it in an instant. "You don't think she likes this boy better than me, do you?"

"Anya, how could she?"

Again, her eyes narrowed, cat's eyes, crazed eyes. But Isladar's face was clear of malice, of amusement, of anything but truth.
Is this how you handle the darkness-born
? Cortano thought, not for the first time.

"When can we see her?"

"See her?"

"Of course. She's not as boring as the humans, and not as stupid as the demons. I miss her."

"Then we will make our plans, Anya, and perhaps we will indeed find her. I do not think it is time for her to return just yet."

"Why did she leave?"

"You will have to ask her, and I imagine that you will when we meet. Perhaps you should think about what you might want to do when you first see her."

She clapped, like a girl not yet burdened by age or responsibility, and bounced out of the chambers, wrath forgotten for a moment.

"Deftly done," Lord Ishavriel said, with a slight nod to Isladar. Allies a moment, Isladar nodded.

Then, as one, they turned to Cortano, the lone human in the cavernous, perfect hall. "You will tell your General," Lord Ishavriel said softly, "that his
Kialli
will begin to arrive during the Festival of the Moon; as he has requested, only those who bear human form will be sent.

"Tell him also that, should he choose to ignore our request, and our admittedly interrupted agreement, those
Kialli
will choose a different way of pleasing the demands of
our
Lord." He bowed.

When he rose, his face was a mask of slate and steel.

"I will tell him," Cortano said quietly. "And as you have not summoned the Lord and the Lord's wrath,
Lord
Ishavriel, understand that those
Kialli
will be destroyed if they attempt to hunt in the city in a way that does not please the ruler of the Dominion."

They did not choose to rise with him, and he stiffened. But only for a moment. Although he knew a dismissal when he heard one, wisdom argued against a confrontation with the Lord's Fist over something as simple as pride. He chose to ignore the slight. It was mild, a man other than he might have missed it entirely. A man like Sendari.

He left without looking back.

Lord Isladar chose to take the seat he had offered Anya. She had deserted it, but the lines, delicate and flowery to excess, remained, cast in stone. He was aware that the juxtaposition between his own power and hers was accentuated by his place upon the throne of madness. He did very little unawares.

Cortano's exit had left them with very few words.

Lord Ishavriel was first to rise; Lord Isladar second. Nugratz, third, was by far the most majestic; he took to the air, lending credence to the illusion of height in the arches above.

Lord Etridian, Lord Alcrax, and Lord Assarak rose slowly.

"The day will come," Assarak said at last, "when we are not required to bend to the whim of mortals."

"They serve their purpose," Lord Isladar said.

"Spoken by the
Kialli
who raises humans in his spare time."

It was, of course, an insult. Etridian's smile was sharply edged.

However, Isladar did not bridle; nor did any obvious sign of anger disturb the neutrality of his expression. He lifted a hand; the gesture, modified somewhat by a flash of blue light that hinted at a power he did not, immediately, possess, called all of their attention.

Which he held for another ten seconds at most.

One of the lesser kin appeared in a burst of gray-limned shadow, two feet above the table. He collapsed there, falling face first into stone with a force greater than gravity or weakness: fear.

His body was pointed in a straight line like a spear or an arrow; he abased himself in Etridian's shadow. That shadow moved, claiming him, name and all.

"Lord," the creature said.

"You interrupt me."

Self-evident; the lesser kin did not choose to speak.

"This is, of course, important."

Perhaps because he could not. Isladar wondered idly whose power had brought the creature here. Etridian's,' in all probability. Or one of his lieutenants'. A moment passed. The shadow in Etridian's hands grew darker and more complex.

Sensing this, the kin struggled to raise its nameless face. "We've found him," he said.

Five Lords turned to face Etridian.

"Where?"

"In
Averalaan
, Lord."

"Impossible. I searched there myself after the death of Karathis. We all did."

"Accept my apologies for the intrusion," Isladar said softly, offering what only he could. "But
who
has been found?"

Grateful for the interruption, the creature nonetheless faced his master when he spoke, and he spoke only after Lord Etridian nodded.

"The Warlord," he said.

"And?"

"We… attempted to approach him. We are not certain what occurred during the watch of Lord Karathis."

"And?"

The sound of the creature convulsively swallowing was answer enough.

For everyone but his Lord.

"And?"

"He… was not interested in offering us his service."

"Difficult. But he has on occasion proved himself to be neutral."

"Lord." The creature hesitated.

Fire engulfed the flat surface of the wide stone table, surrounding him. Etridian had run out of patience.

"He was with a… human. A woman."

"And she?"

"She—wore a ring. They call it a House ring. It is… of import to the humans in the city."

Isladar rose, leaving Anya's throne to his shadows. "Which House?" he asked softly.

"Errador ad'Etridian said it was House Terafin."

"And it was gold? Platinum?"

"It was
human
," the creature snarled.

"We were once smiths," Lord Isladar said, "and of those things you deem
merely
human we created works of art and power that have not been rivaled since. And you cannot tell the
difference
?"

The creature's contempt was second only to its ignorance; they were interested now because Isladar rarely showed such a display of annoyance. It did not, however, last. He fell silent, and Etridian turned back to the creature who had shown himself to be of lesser value and power by his lack of memory.

"The woman. Was she tall? Short? Young? Did he
ever
speak her name?"

"Lord Isladar," Etridian said, "you question my servant too closely."

"My apologies, Lord Etridian. The Warlord, of course, was your watch. But the questions I ask are relevant to the responsibility our Lord gave to you."

"Very well. Answer him."

"Yes. Yes, he spoke her name—but we only recognized it as a name when she responded."

"That name?"

"Jewel," the creature said. "Shouted in warning."

"Then, kinlords," Lord Isladar said, "we have a problem."

"Speak, Isladar."

"The Warlord is not neutral in this battle. He will stand at the side of our enemies." Silence.

Etridian and Assarak: exchanged a glance. "He will not stand for long," Etridian said at last.