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  Urwan screamed as blood spurted. His sword plummeted downward.

  Rand was already vaulting away, but the flat of the falling blade slammed his arm. His sword spun out of his hand, and he scrambled to retrieve it. The garn bent to pick up his fallen blade. They straightened together.

  Rand’s head spun, and he heaved a breath, trying to steady himself.

  The garn lunged.

  21

  VICTORY AND DEFEAT

  Mara emerged from a tunnel of strongwood branches into the golden heart of the inner garden. She traipsed the dewy paths carrying a lute with a purpose that involved Kai. He sat gazing at the falling water in the fountain pool with such intensity she thought he hadn’t noticed her.

  “Good morning, Mara,” he spoke without turning his head.

  “Traelein tells me you play the lute.” She glanced at her maid, waiting at the edge of the garden.

  Kai’s eyes had shone almost silver while he watched the water but now darkened. “Once.”

  “Will you again?” She held the instrument out to him.He accepted the lute but made no move to strum it. “I’ve lost the desire.”

  “But I want you to teach me.” The words came out in a rush, and she looked away with heat blooming in her cheeks. Her outburst had been selfish and brazen. “If you will,” she added to make amends.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Why do you want to learn?”

  She wanted to survive on her own, like the son of Ellendia who traveled as a minstrel, but she wouldn’t give her hopes away. “Must every wish have a reason?”

  “A fool trusts another who answers with a question.” He chided her with a smile.

  Her lips curved in response. “Would you use an ancient saying against me?”

  “Oh, so you know it?”

  “The Elder are not strangers to Kindren expressions. But won’t you give me a song? I’ve soaked these ridiculous slippers in the grass to beg for one.”

  “I’ve an idea you’ll haunt me lest I do.” He softened the sharp words with a smile. Frowning, he bent his head to tune the instrument while his fingers plucked the lute strings.

  She perched at the edge of the pool to wait, a pleasant task with a mist dancing above the water and the fragrance of new roses scenting the air.

  Kai lifted his head. “What will you have?”

  “Something inspiring.”

  A frown marred his brow, but then it cleared. “Perhaps you will find that quality in my tribute to Maeven of Braeth, your father’s mother.”

  “Tell me of her.”

  “She ruled Faeraven alone after her husband, Lof Shraen Timraen, was killed. You remind me of her at times.” Music rippled from his fingers on the strings. He gazed into the distance, as if seeing more than the garden before him, and sang.

  “Once upon a morning

  Rode a maid most fair

  On a prancing palfrey

  Golden light upon her hair,

  Oh, milady of beauty and grace.

  “In the middle of day,

  She took for her own

  A noble bridegroom

  And arose to the high throne.

  Oh milady of beauty and grace.

  “Came then the gloaming,

  When light forsakes the sky,

  And a deceitful heart

  Trades truth for a lie.

  Oh milady of beauty and grace.

  “In the marches of night

  Find comfort and peace

  In your bridegroom’s arms

  As mortal cares cease,

  Oh milady of beauty and grace.”

  The last strains faded into silence. Kai set the lute aside. “I haven’t the heart for more.”

  Nor had she the will to press him further. “Then I must content myself with the music you have given..”

  “I’ll try and play again for you another day.”

  He wanted to be alone, and she should let him, but sympathy held her fast. “The maiden you mentioned to Emmerich -- who is she?”

  He gave her his silence, the reply she deserved for such a personal question.

  “I’m sorry,” she stammered with quick regret. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He nodded toward the bronzed statue above the fountain. “Have you heard how Talan conquered his wingabeast?”

  “I know parts of the tale.”

  “Long before he became Lof Shraen of Faeraven, Talan was a wild youth who pursued the wingabeasts into the Maegrad Paessad—the impenetrable mountains in the north of Whellein.”

  She nodded. Everyone knew about the haven the wild wingabeasts returned to after their midnight flights. “He must have been determined.”

  “Talan was Rivenn’s son.” He seemed to think that explained the matter, and perhaps it did. “From his early days, Talan dreamed of riding one of the wingabeasts he saw flying across the sky. No one thought it possible, but Talan proved it could be done, nearly losing his life in the process.” He stood. “Her name is Shae.”

  She stared at him, at a loss, but then understanding dawned on her. “If I may ask, what happened to her?”

  “Have you heard of the DawnSinger?”

  “Who has not? Her song carried on the wind, bringing healings throughout Elderland.”

  “Shae sang the mael lido, the death song meant to provide safe passage for the dead from this world into the next.”

  “And this is what makes you sad?” Her face heated with the realization that she’d asked another private question. Kai didn’t seem to mind, fortunately.“She sang her own death song.” He tossed a fallen leaf in the pool and watched as the currents spun it.

  “Did she…die, then?”

  His eyes took on a faraway look. “She dwells in the corridor between worlds. By trading places with Emmerich, she made a way for him to enter Elderland.”

  “Can she return?”

  He focused on her once more. “Have you heard of Gilead Riann?”

  “Only as a place of myth.”

  “The Gate of Life is very real, although it is not always found. After Shae went through the gateway, it vanished.” His voice caught on his last words. “I’m not sure of her safety.”

  “Can nothing be done for her?”

  “Only Emmerich can answer that.”

  Everything came back to Emmerich. “Will you ask his help?”

  “The Lof Shraen has sent a skilled tracker in search of Emmerich. I must satisfy myself with that.”

  “But surely—“

  He held up a hand. “Elcon has need of me here, and I will not break faith with my liege lord.”

  “Do you never wish for the freedom to make your own choices?”

  “Your youth speaks through you, Mara.” He smiled, but with sad eyes. “Yes. I have yearned for such freedom. I am surrendered to duty, however.”

  A browning scuttled by beneath the water, its fin breaking the surface. The fish rolled and dived. Kai’s leaf vessels rocked in its wake. Mara would normally smile at such a sight, but now she scowled. “The more I learn of duty, the less I like it. Why should it direct our lives?”

  He smiled. “We no longer speak of my affairs, I think.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “As Elcon’s daughter, I must keep my duty, or so I am told.”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “I can name no one less suited to become heir to a kingdom.”

  “Do you think so little of yourself?”

  His inquiry gave her pause, but she shook her head. “I see myself clearly. I know little of social grace, and nothing at all of ruling.”

  “These can be learned by the willing.”

  “There is that to consider as well. Surely I may have some say in my own life.”

  Kai laughed. “Spoken like a true daughter of Rivenn.”

  

  Rand’s knees trembled but thankfully held. He tightened his grip on his sword to keep it from wavering. Betraying any sign of weakness would bring a swift attack from his opponent.

&nb
sp; Urwan snarled at him from across the fighting area. One arm hung useless and blood coursed down his side. He had to be weakening, but a single stroke from his blade might still do its evil work. Urwan showed jagged teeth that could rend flesh and barreled toward him, limping on the foot Rand had attacked.

  Energy shuddered through Rand at the sight, freeing him from lethargy.

  Urwan charged, gaining speed. Rand vaulted sideways, but the garn spun toward him, the great sword whipping the air.

  Rand yielded, all the while deflecting blows.

  Urwan pressed his advantage.

  With no way of escape, Rand backed to the ropes.

  Hands grabbed at him. The mob must have broken through the barrier. Lurching sideways to shake them off, he narrowly missed the tip of Urwan’s sword. He rebuked the blow, but the impact jarred his arm into his shoulder. His sword flew, end over end, and landed between the ropes. The crowd thundered its approval, and angry shouts broke out from those brawling over his sword.

  With his weapon lost to him, only one chance remained. He dropped and rolled. Hooking his boots around the garn’s injured foot, he yanked with all his might. Urwan went down but somehow kept his weapon. Before the garn could regain his feet, Rand leaped up and stomped his sword hand.

  Urwan released the blade with a bellow.

  The breath rasped in Rand’s throat. Sweat stung his eyes. He hoisted the mighty sword and held the point to his opponent’s throat.

  The garn’s eyes widened in sudden recognition of death.

  The sword pierced flesh as the heat of battle carried Rand through.

  The garn spasmed and died.

  The mob hissed and cheered.

  With the world swinging, Rand raised the bloodied sword above his head. His arms shook from the strain as if palsied, and he fought the urge to heave. His father would proclaim him a warrior at last, but this victory tasted like defeat.

  

  Cold water hit Rand’s face, wrenching him from sleep. “Arise, champion!” Draeg’s friend, Lutz, held a dripping wooden bucket above him.

  Rand pushed to his hands and knees. Why had he made the floor his bed?

  Memory slammed back. He’d keeled over before reaching his cot and must have fallen asleep on the floor. But why was it night when it should be morning? He staggered to his feet, wincing as he jarred his shoulder, and glared at Lutz. “Why did you do that?”

  “I was told to give you a bath.” The guard guffawed.

  Rand glared at him as water ran in rivulets down his neck. With his strength restored and a weapon in his hands, he’d run this tormenter through. His thoughts brought him up short. When had he become vicious?

  The bucket thunked to the floor, and Lutz sketched a mocking bow. The tunic, surcoat, and leggings that he held in the crook of his arm swept the filthy puddle on the floor. He thrust the sullied garments at Rand. “You’re to make yourself presentable, champion.”

  Rand accepted the garb with his good arm. “I’ll need to remove this armor, and require water for drinking and washing—also a cloth to dry myself. Douse me again, and I’ll see you punished. I suggest you remember that as a member of the elite forces I outrank you.”

  Staring at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, Lutz backed toward the doorway. “I’ll fetch water from the well,” he murmured and fled.

  Rand smiled to himself. He’d made a start at regaining his freedom. Whether by intent or neglect, the guard had left the door unbarred. Rand chaffed to leave the cell but stayed put until the guard returned. A short while later, he strolled into the great hall of Pilaer, in appearance a conquering champion.

  Torches burned at intervals, sending grotesque shadows crawling up the whitewashed walls and making the figures in tapestries jump. A bruin and several elks turned on spits in the massive fireplaces in the hall’s outer wall. Between them, arched windows gave onto the tangled greenery of a long-abandoned garden and glimpses of the outer curtain wall. A rowdy tune started up in the minstrel’s gallery along the inner wall.

  His father, seated at table at the end of the chamber, looked up from gnawing a roasted kaeroc leg and beckoned him forward. Rand climbed the steps to the dais elevating his father’s table. “My son, you have proven yourself today.” His father swept his arm in a gesture of invitation. “Sit beside me and partake of the celebration feast.”

  Rand had no appetite, but he seated himself at the table in a carved chair cushioned in red velvet. On his father’s other side, Draeg applied himself to a joint of elk.

  Rand lifted the cup of mulled cider a servant set before him and drank with thirst, then signaled for a refill.

  Freaer raised his own cup. “I wish to reward you for an excellent showing in battle. Name your desire.”

  Rand all but choked on his cider. “My mother’s freedom.” The words jerked from him.

  His father frowned. “That is not possible. You must ask something else. Would you have gold? Or perchance a comely maiden has taken your eye.”

  “If you will not free my mother, at least let me visit her.”

  “Very well, but first you must prove yourself.” His father turned away to address Draeg. “As your reward, you may accompany Rand on his assignment.”

  Dismay, quickly masked, crossed Draeg’s face.

  Rand swallowed his own disappointment. Even if he could not yet free his mother, he had hoped to comfort her. He broke off a portion of roasted fowl from the platter before him. He must eat. He’d need strength for whatever new test his father devised. He would have preferred to slip away from the feast early, but guardians of Pilaer rose from their tables to proclaim toast after toast in tribute to his prowess. Or so they said. It proved a drinking game that ended in bawdy choruses with the object of their ‘admiration’ forgotten.

  Servants had long since removed the remnants of the repast, but ale still flowed. The fires burned low even as the noise level rose. Surely no one would miss him if he made his escape. He had no taste for the debauchery to come. He levered to his feet.

  His father caught his arm. “Must you leave? The daughters of Amora are about to dance for your pleasure.”

  Mother had not protected him from much, but she had taught him to avoid the tender mercies of the daughters of Amora. More than one Kindren had found himself in the dungeon after being driven by drink and lust into acts he could not afterwards recall. “Forgive me, but I am weary.”

  His father released his arm. “Go then, if you must. I will send for you in the morning.”

  Rand retreated from the chamber, walking a little taller after realizing no guard followed him. He skirted the outer bailey to avoid the sward where he’d fought Urwan. He passed beneath an archway and paused on the drawbridge to the inner bailey, breathing in the freshness of salt-tinged air. Water diverted from the faen rippled like black silk beneath him. The tide, covering the ugliness of the mud flats, lapped against the shore, tempting as a seductress.

  Perhaps he should escape into the faen, forget his identity, and never return. Why should he stay? Believing he could redeem his mother was probably foolhardy anyway. Even if he managed to find her, she might resist rescue.

  The night wind chilled his face. He turned his back on the faen and set off. How long ago it seemed since he had occupied the bed in his chamber. He let himself in at the door and swung about to latch it quickly behind him. Across the corridor, his mother’s chamber door stared at him.

  No. He would not allow himself to be swayed from his purpose. As long as a chance remained of saving his mother, he had to try.

  22

  Freedom and Imprisonment

  Across from Rand at the strongwood table in Pilaer’s war room, Draeg slouched in his chair, obviously suffering the effects of last night’s debauchery.

  At the table’s head, their father rubbed his hands along the arm rests of a high-backed chair carved in the shape of a gryphon with furled wings. Light tumbling into the chamber through high windows turned his hair gold but al
so revealed the redness of his eyes. “My armies are ready to march on Torindan, and when they do, Elcon will try to send his wife and daughter to safety through the escape tunnels.” He pinned Rand with his gaze. “You will assassinate them there.”

  “You want me to kill them both?” Rand couldn’t help the note of horror that crept into his voice.

  Draeg snickered.

  A line formed between their father’s brows. “I blame your mother for this softness. Mark my words, Rand. Fail in this duty, and she will pay the price alongside you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” The ‘duty’ expected of him had become even more onerous, but no good would come of pointing that out.

  “Good.” His father narrowed his eyes, as if reading something he didn’t like in Rand’s face. “Draegmor will ensure you complete your assignment.”

  Draeg sat straight in his chair, his startled expression making it clear that, whatever assignment he had expected had not been this.

  “That’s not necessary.” Rand spoke past a constriction in his throat.

  His father’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, but I insist.”

  “I will do my best.” Rand inclined his head, the very model of submission. He kept to himself what doing his best meant when he no longer served his father.

  “You will do more than that if you wish your mother to live,” his father snapped. He glared at Rand as if privy to his innermost thoughts.

  Uneasiness walked over Rand, and he hid himself more deeply, lest the shil shael betray him. “And if I succeed?”

  His father quaffed from his drinking horn and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I will allow you to decide her fate.”

  Rand gnawed his lip, unable to reply. His father named the very thing for which he’d yearned since he’d understood his mother’s sorrow. He would have smuggled her out of Pilaer long ago had she allowed him the liberty. With the choice removed from her, he could help her with his father’s blessing. The only problem with the plan was that it came at the cost of Mara’s, and now her father’s, life.

  “I would speak with the Lof Shraen.” A voice announced from the doorway.

  “Olaeg, why do you disturb me?” Father demanded.