The King of Forever (Scarlet and the White Wolf, #4) (11 page)

“Such a skill would make ser Keriss a powerful adversary indeed. It’s a talent that could save his life, if he honed it well.”

“You think he should try?”

“I think he is strong, but even if he were the strongest Hilurin in all the world, a Rshani opponent could snap his neck like a kitten.
If
the man could ever lay hands on him.”

“If,”
Liall agreed. Again, Nevoi made sense. The swordmaster was a valuable man, indeed.

“I will consider it,” Liall promised, “but for now, I must take my leave of you.” He bowed shortly to Nevoi, student to master. “I thank you for the instruction.”

Nevoi bowed back, much lower than Liall. He only allowed Liall to forget who was king when they were on the practice floor. “My lord honors me.”

They parted and Liall wished he could go immediately to Scarlet, to see the smile on his face and touch the softness of his skin. The intense attraction he had felt for Scarlet in the beginning had never faded, not even a little. Now, more than ever, he yearned to be with him, but one more matter required his attention.

He found the fire dying down in his solar. The guard lit some candles for him, threw four logs on the hearth, and left with a bow. Liall poured pale green wine into a cup. He sat and drank slowly, thinking over what he must say. When he’d finished two cups, he took a deep breath and found a sheet of vellum.

It was not every day that he summoned an Ancient to the Nauhinir.

––––––––

D
vi, the cook, waited by the table and held a chair for him. Scarlet frowned. No matter how often he told Nenos that such things were unnecessary, the polite old steward would smile and nod and then go about doing things the way he had always done them.

When he complained to Liall about how awkward it made him feel to have a chair held for him—a thing only done for women and the elderly in Scarlet’s experience—Liall had shrugged.

“Nenos runs my household in the manner he thinks best,” he had said. “On some matters, he won’t be moved. Unlike your homeland, there are no slaves here. Men and women serve by choice, and capable servants are most valued. They can also make life very difficult if they wish to. It would not be easy to convince him that his methods are incorrect.”

So Scarlet sighed and took the chair Dvi held for him. The dining hall was less formal than the one in their old chambers, thank the gods. Still, it was luxurious by his standards, and huge. The meal laid out on the trestle table was a variety of spiced dumplings stuffed with ginger pork or fruit jam. It was a dish he often requested, but one that Liall did not care for. Word that the king would not be dining with him must have reached the servants.

Dvi served the che in silence. A guard entered the room and signaled to Dvi, who bowed and left to speak with him. He returned in moments.

“You have a visitor, ser,” he told Scarlet.

Scarlet sipped the che and wondered if he should send for wine instead. At least he’d be able to sleep. “Who?”

“I hope you will forgive this intrusion.” Alexyin appeared in the doorway, his hands clasped and his spine stiff.

“I already know the king isn’t coming,” Scarlet sighed. “He didn’t have to send you.” His leg ached and he made a conscious effort not to rub it. His arm had healed quickly, but it had only been bruises and scrapes there. The gash on his leg was deep and it had hurt more than he let Liall know.

Alexyin glanced at the sparse meal on the table. “The king sends his apologies. He is delayed.”  

His voice was neutral, as always. Scarlet waved his hand at the dishes. “Are you hungry? It’s a shame to waste it.” He turned over a cup and poured green che into the porcelain. The steam had the scent of roses. “Liall likes this kind. A southern blend, he calls it. We had some when we were with the Kasiri. It’s still my favorite.” He pushed the cup forward and looked at Alexyin expectantly.

Alexyin sat down like he was lowering himself into a mud puddle. He put one finger on the cup but did not drink. “Thank you, ser.”

Scarlet held back a sigh
. I’ve heard warmer thanks from farmers I gouged for the price of a whetstone.

“Cheers.” He toasted Alexyin and sipped.

Alexyin inclined his head in response but still did not drink.

“You don’t like me much, do you?”

That was too blunt for Alexyin. “If I’ve given offense, I hope the king’s t’aishka will forgive me,” he said formally.

“Oh, stop it,” Scarlet said in disgust. “You don’t like me. You never have. I didn’t know why at first, and now it doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you like me or not. I
do
care that you think I don’t grieve for Cestimir.” Scarlet put a hand on his chest and spoke earnestly. He might not get another chance to talk to Alexyin like this, man-to-man. “Please believe me, Alexyin. I tried to get away, to run for help, but Melev was there and he prevented me. I...” He gestured helplessly. “I wasn’t strong enough to save Cestimir. By all the gods, I swear to you that I wanted to.”

“But you were strong enough to destroy Melev, whom not even our greatest swordsman could have bested,” Alexyin said harshly. “Tell me; how is it that your magic destroyed a creature that not ten of our warriors could bring down, but you could not save the future king of Rshan? Or was it because you wanted Nazheradei to be king?”

Scarlet recoiled. He suddenly realized that Alexyin believed him to be just as sly and evil as Vladei, that he suspected him of helping Liall to the throne over Cestimir’s dead body. The thought made him cold, and he recalled it was one of Liall’s oldest and most trusted friends that he was alone with.
A true friend will risk much to protect those they are loyal to, even murder.

I’m beginning to think like one of them.

Scarlet stared at Alexyin, wondering how to reach him. “I am not Rshani,” he said quietly. “I’m not one of you. I will never
be
one of you.”

Alexyin’s glare wavered. “I don’t take your meaning.” He half-rose from his chair. “I should go, ser.” He looked at Dvi, who shot an uncertain look at Scarlet.

“Sit down,” Scarlet commanded. When he obeyed, Scarlet took a deep breath and leaned forward.

“You keep expecting me to act like one of you, like a Rshani would, and you don’t know me. You don’t know my kind at all.” He held up his left hand with the missing finger, turning it so Alexyin could see the difference clearly.

“Isn’t this enough to prove I’m not like you? That I’m not like Vladei or Shikhoza or whoever you imagine? Your politics, these ambitions... I don’t have them. I don’t care about power or wealth or having men obey my commands. I’m only here because I wouldn’t leave Liall, and now
he
can’t leave. I would have preferred Cestimir to be king. Liall and I would probably be on our way back home by now, and happier to boot. We’d damn sure have more time together.” He gritted his teeth. “I don’t like your buggering land. It’s too cold. There’s no sun. I don’t recognize the trees or plants or the songs the birds make, and there’s no one here with a face like mine. You speak my language but none of you know anything about Hilurin beyond legends of evil magic, and everyone here mistrusts me, is frightened of me, or just plain hates me. Cestimir told me you were a wise man, but you wouldn’t know a Hilurin heart from a turnip.” Scarlet put his hand down, his throat tight. Would he never be done with this suspicion and dislike from Liall’s people? “And now you can go.”

Alexyin rose slowly, looking down at Scarlet, his hard face as closed and inscrutable as ever. “You have spoken plainly, so now must I: The king must marry and produce an heir. Only then will his reign be established, the kingdom secure, and his person safe. If you love him so much, put your own feelings aside and convince him of that. Then I may believe that you remain with my king for more than your own benefit.”

He was not hurt by the words, but he’d thought better of Alexyin than this. “I’ve been named
whore
by your lot already, Alexyin. More than once. I’m fucking tired of it.”

Alexyin bowed. “I apologize,” he said, sounding anything but apologetic.

Dvi showed the man out and did not return, and Scarlet was glad for it. He stared at the cup of che Alexyin had refused to drink. After a while, he picked it up and dashed the liquid into the fire. Coals popped and steam hissed up in a long finger of white, vanishing up the chimney.

Liall is the one thing I truly love about Rshan, and they’d be happy to take him away from me. They might even succeed. What would be left for me here, then?

There were several hours of the evening left and he had little to occupy him. He went to his couch under the big window and tried to read, but the pictures in the Sinha books—sketches of Ancients, snow bears, and patterns of stars—did not please him and the lines of script blurred together. Learning to read made his head ache and the silence of the apartment seemed to ring in his ears. Scarlet turned the page and idly traced his finger over the Sinha script. He recognized several words:
bear, red, sword, battle, love, blood
. Those were words that went well with stories. Raja meant red, and in a way so did Keriss.

“Red,” he murmured, his index finger following the curling lines of the word.

It began to glow.

He was so shocked that he threw the book to the floor. He pulled his feet up into the chair and looked down. The book had fallen page-down, its spine facing the ceiling.

Did I imagine that?

He stared at the book for long minutes, almost afraid that it would come alive and go flapping around the room like some demon-bird. Slowly, his courage returned and he reached to pick it up. The pages sighed together normally. When he rested it in his lap and turned the leaves, nothing happened. Nothing happened when he traced the letters again, and even when he found the initial word for
red
and attempted to repeat his actions exactly, nothing happened.

I’m idle too often. Mum always said idleness made me moody and prone to silly fancies. Maybe I did imagine it.

But he knew he had not. This ability was something new with his Gift, and unlike the incident with the apple tree, he had no clue what it could be used for. What good were glowing words on a page? It wasn’t like a healing chant or lighting a damp fire. It seemed very wrong that he should even be
able
to do something so useless with his magic. Everyone knew that Deva’s Gift was meant to help the Hilurin survive in a harsh world. Glowing words couldn’t do that.

He shook his head and got up to replace the book in the heavy wooden case. “Silly books,” he muttered. “Maybe Mum was right.” He abandoned trying to puzzle it out and began to undress for bed.

When Liall returned late in the night, he pretended to be asleep.

***

“U
p! Keep your guard up, I say!”

Golden motes of hay drifted through the torch light as Scarlet circled his opponent with a sparring long-knife in each hand. No matter how much Nevoi spat and shouted, Scarlet persisted in going for the low point, dodging under every one of Nevoi’s slashes and darting past him, behind him, always appearing where he was least expected. The horses stamped and snorted in their stalls, their instincts enticed by the sounds of combat. Nevoi’s sword clanged against Scarlet’s blunted blade, shearing sparks as Scarlet slipped past the attack once more. Another feint from Nevoi, pressing him on the left. He dropped his guard and dodged right, keeping Nevoi at bay with the dangerous point of his blade. Nevoi cursed and tried to bat his long-knife aside. Clashing steel rang like a bell.

“Guard up!”
Nevoi roared.

He was running out of breath. Scarlet spun on the ball of one foot, favoring his injured leg, turning, his long-knife slashing the air in a wide arc...

And hit nothing. Nevoi was no longer there. A cold line of metal kissed the side of Scarlet’s throat.

“Circles close, little one,” Nevoi panted close to his ear as they both stood frozen in fighting stance. “There’s your weakness.”

“I yield,” Scarlet wheezed, drawing in ragged breaths of air.

“I accept,” Nevoi grunted. The blade of the swordmaster rang as he slammed it back into the hilt at his waist. “Explain yourself.”

Scarlet dropped his stance and lowered the double long-knives. His arms felt heavy as stone. “How do you mean?”

“I told you to keep your guard up.”

Scarlet shook his head. His leg ached fiercely and it stung where the stitches had pulled against his skin. Esiuk was supposed to cut them out later today. “Keeping my guard up won’t do much good if the man can smash me like an acorn. You’re too strong. I can’t just guard and take the hit. I’d get hammered.”

“So you disobeyed my instructions, ignored my lesson?”

Scarlet straightened his back and shrugged.

Nevoi smiled. “Good.” He slapped Scarlet’s arm. “Very good. Next time, you practice with the sperret.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Scarlet limped with him to the alcove where their edged weapons hung on an old quintain packed in from the sparring yard. “I’m not letting you that close.” A sperret was a short, stabbing foil, more like a thick needle than a knife. It was a light weapon that could be easily hidden and quickly deployed. Kasiri fighters were known to favor the sperret, and so were women.

“Tradition says the sperret must be practiced with a shield. It’s a good weapon for small fighters, even better than the long-knife.”

“It’s a weapon for a girl or a thief.”

“We will not argue the point,” Nevoi conceded with good grace. “But I insist that you try, at the least. If it’s not your weapon, we will soon know it. You may be wiser than I when it comes to your limits.”

Nevoi always pushed him to the brink of what he was capable of, and the master steadfastly refused to allow Liall to witness their sparring.

“The young man is not your consort when he’s under my training,” he had informed the king, “but my student, and only that. If you wish for me to instruct him, you will allow me to do it in my customary way or you must find another teacher.”