Worldbinder (40 page)

They each found a pillow, and Siyaddah showed them that they could pull a lambskin over them if they got cold.

Rhianna lay down, and wondered how long Talon would be gone.

All night, she thought. Her mother here in Luciare would be sick with grief, Rhianna imagined, and she would need Talon to comfort her.

Rhianna wondered about her own mother. Common sense said that her mother was dead. On her own world, Rhianna’s father had killed her. Rhianna had been blindfolded at the time, and had not seen it. But she’d heard the blow land, a blow to the head that hit with a loud crack, and she’d heard her mother’s body fall.

But what about on this world? Rhianna wondered. Fallion and Jaz had a father here, or at least his shadow-half. Could I have my mother’s shadow self here?

She suddenly found herself growing misty-eyed at the prospect, and she fought back a sniffle. It was too much to hope for, but she dared imagine that she had a mother here.

Would I even know her if I saw her? Rhianna wondered.

Rhianna tried to recall her mother’s face. Sometimes she still saw it in dreams, but the memory had faded: red hair tied in a single braid, hanging down her back, an oval face generously dotted with freckles, fierce hazel eyes that were almost green, a small nose just a tad too thin.

Her body had always been well toned and muscled,
and she had walked with the deadly gait of a trained fighter.

There was so much fight in that woman, Rhianna thought, I cannot believe that she was bested in battle.

But she remembered the sound of her mother’s skull cracking open, and a knot in Rhianna’s belly tightened.

At that moment, there was a call at the door, and Daylan Hammer entered.

He spoke softly to their hostess for a moment, and then turned to Rhianna.

His smile was broad, but sad.

“My little one,” he said as he came to sit beside her. He took her hand, leaned his shoulder against her, but he sat facing Fallion.

“It has been many years,” he said softly to Fallion, “many years since you last appeared. Do you remember anything of your past life, of why you have spent so many centuries hiding, healing?”

Fallion shook his head.

“You should,” Daylan told him. “Your spirit has mended sufficiently. It, like your body, needs time to rest and heal when it is injured. I think it is healed, but now it is time for it to awaken.”

Daylan unclasped Rhianna’s hand, reached out to Fallion, and touched him with one finger, on the sternum. He said nothing that the human ear might hear, but Daylan was an expert at speaking as lords did on the netherworld, from spirit to spirit. Rhianna distinctly heard the words within her mind, “Waken, Light-bringer. The world has need of you and the hour is late.”

Fallion’s eyes widened just a little in surprise, then Daylan spoke in words for all to hear.

“Once there was One True World, where mankind thrived, beneath the shelter of a great tree. We lived in peace, and there was great prosperity, for men did not seek their own gain, but sought to enrich each other as much as themselves. The True Tree spread above us, hiding us from the eyes of our enemies, and whispering words of peace.

“We had enemies, but we also had each other. There were Darkling Glories that hunted us, creatures of great power that carried darkness with them wherever they went. And there were heroes among us who hunted the Darkling Glories in return, men called the Ael.

“You were one of the Ael,” Daylan told Fallion. “You were a champion who swore to serve his people, and for this the people gave you their support.

“So you were gifted with runes of power, much like the runelords on the world where you were born. But in those days, the taking and giving of endowments was not such a horrid thing. Dedicates did not die in the exchange. People chose their champions wisely, offering up endowments only to the most deserving, and as one of the Ael you would draw upon those runes only in moments of great extremity.

“To give an endowment, the best part of yourself, was not a sacrifice; it was an act of pure love.”

Rhianna had heard these stories before. She had learned them on Daylan’s knee as a child, in her brief stay in the netherworld. Now, she realized, Daylan was telling them to Fallion in an effort to waken the memories.

“Let me tell you how it will be,” Daylan said. “Tonight, Fallion, when next you sleep, you will recall your time beneath the great tree. You will remember the great hurt you suffered, and your valiant struggle to fight the Queen of the Loci. And when you wake, you will know what you must do….”

Daylan was not a large man. He did not tower over the group, and Rhianna imagined that if you spotted him in a market, you would not have thought him special. He did not look wiser than other men, or stronger.

But at this moment, she looked into his eyes and it seemed that he grew old. There was great sadness there, and infinite wisdom. He looked scarred and aged, like the majestic sandstone mountains in Landesfallen that have been battered and sculpted by the wind over the ages until their sides have worn away, creating faces as
smooth as bone, revealing the inner majesty of the mountain.

For a moment, Daylan did not look like a man, but a force of nature.

Fallion smiled weakly and looked down at his hands, as if unsure whether to believe Daylan.

“Fallion,” Daylan said. “Have you ever tried clutching your cape pin when you go to sleep?”

Rhianna smiled. As Fallion had discovered when he first touched it, if you held the pin long enough, it would show you visions of the One True World. A huge owl would fly to you and carry you away on a dizzying journey. It was more of a thrill than a comfort. No one could hold onto that pin for more than a few moments. As teens, Rhianna and Fallion had once made a game of it, trying to see who could hold it the longest.

“No,” Fallion said.

“Try it when next you sleep,” Daylan said. “It will show you the One True World as it once was, and help you to remember.”

Fallion nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Daylan climbed to his feet, and said, “I should let you get whatever rest you can. There will likely be fighting before morning.”

Fallion smiled at him, then glanced at Siyaddah. There were questions in her eyes, and she spoke softly to Daylan for a moment.

Daylan smiled at a question and began to translate. “She asks, why are you so brown? She says ‘You have the hair of the raven.’”

“Tell her that in my world,” Fallion said, “my grandmother was from Indhopal, a land far to the east. Her skin was dark and beautiful, like Siyaddah’s. My lineage connects with men and women of Indhopal many times over the past thousand years.”

Daylan translated, then relayed another question. “Oh,” Siyaddah said. “So you are of mixed breed, east and west?”

“Yes,” Fallion answered. “And I even have ancestors among the white skins, the Inkarrans to the south.”

Siyaddah asked a question. Daylan said, “She says that your eyes follow her, and that she has caught you looking at her many times. She wants to know, ‘Do you think she is beautiful?’”

Rhianna found her heart beating hard at the question, and she held her breath.

“Yes,” Fallion admitted, as Rhianna feared he would.

Daylan spoke a single word, and Siyaddah repeated Fallion’s answer in his own tongue, “Yes.”

Siyaddah smiled at him, began to speak. Her gaze was penetrating, frank. “She says that you are beautiful, too. She is not attracted to most of the men in Luciare. The warriors are too huge, too pale. If she were to mate with one of them, the chances are good that the child would be over-large, and she would die in childbirth. She wants to know if it is true that on your world, you were the son of Prince Urstone.”

Daylan smiled at this. Rhianna knew that Daylan knew the answers, but he seemed to enjoy watching Fallion squirm.

“On our world, Urstone was not a mere prince. He was the king, the High King of many realms, and his name will be forever revered. I am proud to be his son, and heir.”

Siyaddah smiled nervously at that news. She bit her lip, and spoke softly and rapidly. Daylan offered in a humble tone, “She thinks it would be good if all people were to be united, the small folk of your world with the true men of her world. She wants to know, ‘Do you agree?’”

“Yes,” Fallion said.

Daylan smiled secretively, as if he had just sprung a trap. “This is not just a question of principle with her,” Daylan corrected. “She is asking if you think, as leaders, you should unite. She is asking if you think that it would be in your … political interests to marry.”

Rhianna felt all of the air go out of her lungs. She hadn’t expected the questions to take this turn, at least so soon. Siyaddah was talking marriage. This was no declaration of love. It couldn’t be. Fallion and Siyaddah didn’t really even know each other. But in many lands, on Rhianna’s own world, political marriages had nothing to do with love. Siyaddah was frankly acknowledging that she felt attracted to him, and that Fallion, with potentially millions of followers, could be a powerful ally. Indeed, Siyaddah had to recognize that if the human alliance managed to overthrow the wyrmlings, in time Fallion could become the single most powerful lord alive.

She was right to consider such an alliance.

From his pillow, Jaz clapped and said, “Do it! Go ahead. I’ve never seen you this silly over a woman.”

Fallion froze, as if unsure what to say. He blushed and looked to Rhianna, as if seeking her advice.

Don’t ask me, you fool
, she thought.
Don’t beg my permission.
Rhianna had proven her love for him. She’d offered up her life to Shadoath, hoping to rescue him. Rhianna had tendered her soul when she tried to kill Shadoath’s Dedicates, knowing that Fallion could never murder a child.

But Fallion begged Rhianna’s permission to marry another. He didn’t ask with his voice, but with his eyes.

And as Rhianna’s heart seemed to break, she realized that she could not deny him.

Right now, Rhianna could think of no greater way to prove her love than to give him the one thing that he wanted most.

“Jaz is right,” Rhianna said. “It could be a good match.” From the expression of disbelief in Fallion’s eyes, she knew that he wasn’t convinced of her sincerity, so she added more forcefully, “I’m telling you as a sister, one who loves you and wants you to be happy, consider the offer well.”

Fallion looked evenly at Siyaddah. “Yes,” he said, “I think that
politically
it could be good for us to marry.
And it may be that when we know each other better, we would find more personal reasons to do so.”

Siyaddah smiled, joy spreading across her face slowly, as pretty as an apple blossom opening. Rhianna could not help but admire her dark hair, her sparkling eyes, and her infectious smile.

She was not evil. She wasn’t trying to hurt Rhianna, and Rhianna could not hate her for being smitten by Fallion.

Then Siyaddah’s smile fell, and she looked to the floor and spoke.

“She will suggest this to her father,” Daylan interpreted, “but she fears that he would not approve. For many years, here upon this world, your father and hers were the best of friends, comrades in arms, until Prince Urstone was captured. Her father longs for his return, and he has been saving her, for Prince Urstone’s return. Her father hopes to marry her to Prince Urstone.”

How long could he have been saving her? Rhianna wondered. Siyaddah did not look to be old. Rhianna would have guessed that she was eighteen, certainly no more than twenty at the most. But Rhianna also knew that in many cultures women married young, and in royal families matches might well be made at birth.

What was Siyaddah really saying? Rhianna wondered. Was she so weak that she thought of herself only as a pawn to be used to make the strongest political alliance? Was she that calculating?

Or maybe she didn’t want to marry Prince Urstone. After all, he would be much older than her, and would be terribly scarred after years of torture among the wyrmlings. And if he was a large man, she had to fear the consequences of bearing his child.

But Rhianna suspected that she understood something about the woman. In Indhopal, a woman had always been expected to be perfectly subservient. There was no greater compliment to a princess than to say that she was a “dutiful daughter.”

As much as Rhianna might hate such attitudes, that is
what Siyaddah was, dutiful. Whatever mate her father chose for her, Siyaddah would smile and accept her fate.

“I see,” Fallion said, looking as if he had been slapped.

Daylan must have sensed the rising tension in the room. He looked from Fallion to Siyaddah to Rhianna, then abruptly excused himself.

Rhianna took his hand and walked with him to the door. Once outside, Daylan whispered, “You love Fallion, don’t you?”

Rhianna nodded.

“You may have to fight her to win his affection. You should fight her, you know. If you don’t, my robin’s egg, you will always regret it.”

“I know,” Rhianna said.

Daylan smiled. “If she were a woman of the horse clans, it would be a simple matter. You’d get on your horses and joust, the winner taking the spoils.”

“I’d win,” Rhianna said. “She’s weak.”

“I dare say that you would. But don’t make the mistake of believing that Siyaddah is weak. There are many kinds of strength, and you will never find a more worthy opponent. Dare I suggest an alternative?”

“What?” Rhianna asked.

“In Dalharristan, it is quite common for a king to take several wives.”

Rhianna gritted her teeth. “I will not share a husband. To do so would be to marry half a man.”

“I only suggest it,” Daylan said, “because once Siyaddah recognizes your love for Fallion, she will see it as a perfect solution to your problem. I thought that you should be forewarned.”

Rhianna found that the conversation was becoming uncomfortable. She sought to change the subject. “Uncle,” she said, “of all the millions of worlds, how is it that you keep watch upon these two that Fallion combined?”

“It’s not by accident,” Daylan admitted. “The two worlds
fit
together, locking like joints from hand to arm. Both worlds retain something unique from the One True
World, a memory of how the world should be. That is what drew Fallion’s spirit to his world.”