Tigana (56 page)

Marius nodded. ‘From both of your Tyrants. Gifts, messages of felicitation, and generous offers to reopen the old trade routes by sea and land.’

‘And each urged you to scorn the other as being untrustworthy and unstable in his power.’

Marius was smiling faintly now. ‘Are you intercepting my mail, Pigeon? Each did exactly that.’

‘And what,’ Alessan asked, direct as an arrow, ‘have you replied?’ For the first time, unmistakably, there was a taut cord of tension in his voice.

Marius heard it too. ‘Nothing yet,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘I want a few more messages from each of them before I move.’

Alessan looked down and seemed to notice his clenched fingers for the first time. He unlaced them and ran a hand, predictably, through his hair.

‘You will have to move, though,’ he said with some difficulty. ‘You will obviously need trade. In your position you have to begin showing Quileia some of the benefits you can offer. Traffic north will be the quickest way, won’t it?’ There was an awkward kind of challenge in his tone.

‘Of course,’ Marius said simply. ‘I have to do it. Why else am I King? It is only a question of timing—and with what happened this morning I think my timing has just been moved up.’

Alessan nodded, as if he’d known all this already.

‘What will you do, then?’ he asked.

‘Open the passes for both of them. No preferences, no tariffs for either. I will let Alberico and Brandin send me all the gifts and goods and envoys they want. I’ll let their trade make me truly a King—a King who brings new prosperity to his people. And I need to start doing it soon. Immediately, I now suspect. I have to put Quileia so firmly on a new path that the old one recedes as fast as I can make it. Otherwise I’ll die having done nothing but live somewhat longer than most Year Kings, and the priestesses will be in power again before my bones are picked clean underground.’

Alessan closed his eyes. Devin became aware of the rustling of leaves all around them and the sporadic calling of birds. Then Alessan looked up at Marius again, the grey eyes wide and calm, and he said, bluntly:

‘My request: that you give me six months before deciding on trade. And something else, in that interval.’

‘The time alone is a great deal,’ Marius said very softly. ‘But tell me the rest, Pigeon. The something else.’

‘Three letters, Bear. I need three letters sent north. First letter: you say yes to Brandin, conditionally. You ask for time to consolidate your own position before exposing Quileia to outside influences. You make it clear that your inclination towards him is based on his appearing stronger than Alberico, more likely to endure. Second letter: you reject, sorrowfully, all overtures from Astibar. You write Alberico that you are intimidated by Brandin’s threats. That you would dearly love to trade with the Empire of Barbadior, need to trade with them, but the Ygrathen seems too strong in the Palm for you to risk offending him. You wish Alberico all good fortune. You ask him to keep in contact with you, discreetly. You say you will be watching events in the north with close interest. You have not yet given Brandin a final decision, and will delay as long as you can. You send your warmest regards to the Emperor.’

Devin was lost. He reverted to his trick of the winter: listen, remember, think about it later. Marius’s eyes were bright though, and the cold, unsettling smile was back.

‘And my third letter?’ he asked.

‘Is to the Governor of the Province of Senzio. Offering immediate trade, no tariffs, first choice of prime goods, secure anchorage in your harbours for their ships. Expressing deep admiration for Senzio’s brave independence and enterprise in the face of adversity.’ Alessan paused. ‘And this third letter, naturally—’

‘Will be intercepted by Alberico of Barbadior. Pigeon, do you know what you would be setting in motion? How incredibly dangerous a game this is?’

‘Wait a minute!’ Erlein di Senzio suddenly interjected, starting to rise.

‘You be silent!’
Alessan literally snarled the command in a voice Devin had never heard him use.

Erlein’s mouth snapped shut. He subsided, breathing harshly, his eyes coals of anger and burgeoning understanding. Alessan didn’t even look at him. Neither did Marius. The two of them sat on a golden carpet high in the mountains, seemingly oblivious to the existence of anything in the world but each other.

‘You
do
know, don’t you?’ Marius said finally. ‘You know exactly.’ There was a certain wonder in his voice.

Alessan nodded. ‘I’ve had enough time to think about it, Triad knows. Once the trade-routes open I think my province and its name are lost. With what you can offer him, Brandin will be a hero in the west, not a Tyrant. He will be so secure that there will be nothing I can do, Bear. Your Kingship may be my undoing. And my home’s.’

‘Are you sorry you helped me to it?’

Devin watched Alessan wrestle with that. There were currents of emotion running here, far beneath the surface of what he could see and understand. He listened, and remembered.

‘I should be sorry,’ Alessan murmured at length. ‘In a way it is a kind of treachery that I am not. But no, how can I possibly regret what we worked so hard to achieve?’ His smile was wistful.

Marius said, ‘You know I love you, Pigeon. Both of you.’

‘I know. We both know.’

‘You know what I am facing back home.’

‘I do. I have reason to remember.’

In the silence that followed Devin felt a sadness come over him, an echo of his mood at the end of the night. A sense of the terrible spaces that always seemed to lie between people. The gulfs that had to be crossed for even a simple touching.

And how much wider those gulfs must be for men such as these two, with their long dreams and the burdens of being who they were, and what. How hard it seemed, how brutally hard, for hands to reach out across so much history and such a weight of responsibility and loss.

‘Oh, Pigeon,’ said Marius of Quileia, his voice little more than a whisper, ‘you may have been an arrow shot from the white moon into my heart eighteen years ago. I love you as my son, Alessan bar Valentin. I will give you six months and your three letters. Build a bonfire to my memory if you hear that I have died.’

Even with what little he understood, on the uttermost edges of this, Devin felt a lump gather in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. He looked at the two of them and he couldn’t have said which man he admired more in that moment. The one who had asked, knowing what he asked, or the one who had given, knowing what he gave. He had an awareness though, humbling, inescapable, of how far yet he had to travel—a distance he might never traverse—before he could name himself a man after the fashion of these two.

‘Does either of you have any idea,’ Erlein di Senzio broke into the stillness, his voice grim as death, ‘how many innocent men and women may be butchered because of what you are about to do?’

Marius said nothing. Alessan wheeled on the wizard though.

‘Have
you
any idea,’ he said, his eyes like chips of grey ice, ‘how close I am to killing you for saying that?’ Erlein paled but did not draw back. Nor did his own eyes flinch away.

‘I did not ask to be born into this time, charged by my birth with trying to set it right,’ Alessan said, his voice held
tightly again as if under a leash. ‘I was the youngest child. This should have been my brothers’ burden, either or both of them. They died by the Deisa. Among the lucky ones.’ Bitterness cracked through for a moment.

And was beaten back. ‘I am trying to act for the whole of the Palm. Not just for Tigana and her lost name. I have been reviled as a traitor and a fool for doing so. My mother has cursed me because of this. I will accept that from her. To her I will hold myself accountable for blood and death and the destruction of what Tigana was if I fail. I will
not
hold myself subject to your judgement, Erlein di Senzio! I do not need you to tell me who or what is at risk in this. I need you to do what I tell you, nothing more! If you are going to die a slave you might as well be mine as anyone else’s. You are going to fight with me, Senzian. Whether through your will or against it you are going to fight with me for freedom!’

He fell silent. Devin felt himself trembling, as if a titanic thunderstorm had shaken the sky above the mountains and gone.

‘Why do you let him live?’ Marius of Quileia asked.

Alessan fought to collect himself He seemed to consider the matter. ‘Because he is a brave man in his own way,’ he answered at length. “Because it is true that his people will be placed in great danger by this. Because I have wronged him by his lights, and by my own. And because I have need of him.’

Marius shook his large head. ‘It is bad to have need of a man.’

‘I know, Bear.’

‘He may come back to you, even years later, and ask you for something very large. Something your heart will not let you refuse.’

‘I know, Bear,’ said Alessan. The two men looked at each other, sitting motionless on the golden carpet.

Devin turned away, feeling like an intruder on that exchange of glances. In the stillness of that pass below the heights of the Braccio Range birdsong rang out with piercing sweetness and, looking up to the south, Devin saw that the last of the high white clouds had drifted apart, revealing the dazzle of sunlit snow on the peaks. The world seemed to be a place of more beauty and more pain than he could ever have imagined it to be.

When they rode back down from the pass Baerd was waiting for them a few miles south of the castle, alone on his horse among the green of the foothills.

His eyes widened when he saw Devin and Erlein, and a rare amusement was visible even behind his beard, as Alessan pulled to a halt in front of him.

‘You,’ said Baerd, ‘are even worse at these things than I am, despite everything you say.’

‘Not worse. As bad, perhaps,’ Alessan said, ruefully ducking his head. ‘After all, your
only
reason for refusing to come was so that he wouldn’t feel any extra pressure to—’

‘And after lashing me verbally for that, you go and take two complete strangers to reduce the pressure even more. I stand my ground: you are worse than I am.’

‘Lash me verbally,’ Alessan said.

Baerd shook his head. ‘How is he?”

‘Well enough. Under strain. Devin stopped an assassination attempt up there.’

‘What?’ Baerd glanced quickly at Devin, noting the torn shirt and hose and the scrapes and cuts.

‘You are going to have to teach me how to use a bow,’ Devin said. ‘There’s less wear and tear.’

Baerd smiled. ‘I will. First chance we have.’ Then something seemed to occur to him. ‘An assassination?’ he said to Alessan. ‘In the
mountains?
Surely not!’

Alessan’s expression was grim. ‘I’m afraid so. She carried a moon bow with a lock of his hair. The mountain taboo has obviously been lifted—at least for the purposes of murder.’

Baerd’s features creased with concern. He sat on his horse quietly a moment, then: ‘So he had no option really. He needs to act immediately. He said no?’

‘He said yes. We have six months and he will send the letters.’ Alessan hesitated. ‘He asked us to build a bonfire to his memory if he dies.’

Baerd suddenly turned his horse away. He sat staring fixedly off to the west. The late-afternoon sun was shedding an amber glow over the heather and bracken of the hills.

‘I love that man,’ Baerd said, still gazing into the distance.

‘I know,’ said Alessan. Slowly, Baerd turned back to him. They exchanged a look in silence.

‘Senzio?’ said Baerd.

Alessan nodded. ‘You will have to explain to Alienor how to set up the interception. These two will come west with me. You and Catriana and the Duke go north and then into Tregea. We start reaping what we’ve sown, Baerd. You know the timing as well as I do, and you’ll know what to do until we meet again, who we’ll want from the east. I’m not sure about Rovigo—I’ll leave that to you.’

‘I’m not happy about separate roads,’ Baerd murmured.

‘Neither am I, if you must know. If you have an alternative I’d be grateful to hear it.’

Baerd shook his head. ‘What will you do?’

‘Speak to some people on the way. See my mother. After that it depends on what I find. My own reaping in the west before summer comes.’

Baerd glanced briefly at Devin and Erlein. ‘Try not to let yourself be hurt,’ he said.

Alessan gave his shrug. ‘She’s dying, Baerd. And I’ve hurt her enough in eighteen years.’

‘You have not!’ the other replied with sudden anger. ‘You only wound yourself if you think that way.’

Alessan sighed. ‘She is dying unknown and alone in a Sanctuary of Eanna in a province called Lower Corte. She is not in the Palace by the Sea in Tigana. Do not say she has not been hurt.’

‘But not by you!’ Baerd protested. ‘Why do you do this to yourself?’

Again the shrug. ‘I have made certain choices in a dozen years since we came back from Quileia. I am willing to accept that others may disagree with those choices.’ His eyes flicked to Erlein. ‘Leave it, Baerd. I promise not to let this unbalance me, even without you there. Devin will help if I need help.’

Baerd grimaced behind his beard and looked as if he would pursue the matter further, but when he spoke again it was in a different voice. ‘You think this is it, then? You think it truly might happen now?’

‘I think it
has
to happen this summer or it never will. Unless, I suppose, someone does kill Marius in Quileia and we go back to stasis here, with nothing at all to work with. Which would mean that my mother and a great many other people were right. In which case you and I will simply have to sail into Chiara harbour and storm the palace walls alone and kill Brandin of Ygrath and watch the Palm become an outpost of Barbadior’s Empire. And what price Tigana then?’

He checked himself. Then continued in a lower voice: ‘Marius is the one wild card we have ever had, the one thing I’ve been waiting for and working for all these years. And he’s just agreed to let us play him as we need. We have a chance. It may not hurt to do some praying, all of us, in the days to come. This has been long enough in arriving.’