Sun Sword - The Riven Shield Part 18

But he would never be the striking figure that Alesso had cut then; he would never have that breadth of shoulder, that wild determination, that terrible grace of cunning that had given Alesso the Tor Leonne.

In his youth he had bitterly resented that fact.

Now, he was above it; unlike the ghost of the young Alesso di'Marente, his own youth did not haunt him. Nor did his dead.

But the living were treacherous.

He could not escape them.

Narro, great black beast with braided mane and braided tail, was restive. Sendari had given him leave to gallop three miles past the Northernmost edge of the encampment. But three miles for a horse of Narro's quality was the beginning of a run, not the end of it; he was restive. The robes of a Widan fell across his flanks as he tossed chunks of gra.s.s-laden dirt to and fro.

"Wait," he told the horse, pulling at the reins.

Narro accepted the command with ill grace. Sendari shrugged. There were none here to bear witness to his inability to exert perfect control over the beast, and the witness that would come would not judge him for the weakness.

The sun had risen; he judged time by the fall of shadows. There were other ways of judging it, but this way served him best; he had developed, over the long month, an instinctive acceptance of the rhythm of day.

He missed his wives. Many of the Tors who had gathered upon the plain had brought a wife or a concubine with them; those who had not had taken, from the Raverran villages, the companionship they required. Sendari found no comfort in the arms and the words of strangers, and beauty spoke not to his heart, but to something too cerebral to be easily comforted.

That part of him was Widan.

And the Widan's knees tightened around the girth of his horse as he heard the distant sounds of travel. There were men upon the road.

He nudged his horse forward; had to fight to hold him back. This meeting was not a meeting that he relished.

He saw the standard first; it was lifted by the hands of a man he did not recognize from this distance. Unfurled, heavy enough to withstand the ferocity of wind, it caught sunlight and scattered it. Six rays above the full face of the rising sun.

Adano kai di'Marano had come.

Behind the standard, four men traveled abreast, their horses cantering in a unison that spoke of the quality of their riders. Those riders wore the half sun, with six distinct rays; it marked them as Toran. Behind them followed another group of four, and behind them, two men rode abreast. Sendari counted them; eight, two, eight.

He waited; the distance between the riders and Narro lessened. Narro's neck rose; his nostrils flared. Sendari straightened his shoulders; ran one hand through his Widan's beard. Adano would know, if he saw the gesture, what it meant; the Widan was nervous.

Only when the standard-bearer stopped did Sendari dismount. Upon horseback, the differences between himself and his kai were p.r.o.nounced. Sendari wore a sword gracelessly; it fit him as well as any sword ever had. It was accoutrement, afterthought, a part of the uniform that spoke of coming war.

But it was not his weapon.

The ranks of the Toran broke as the two men in their center edged their horses forward.

They wore Marano colors: emerald and night blue beneath the hooded visage of white hunting bird. Beneath its flight, the sun, the rising sun.

He waited. Their horses slowed.

The older of the two dismounted. His stride was long, his steps quick.

"Sendari!"

Sendari par di'Marano bowed; the bow was perfect, inflected with genuine respect. When he rose, he stood ten feet from the kai Marano: his brother, Adano, the Tor'agar.

The sun had not aged him; the wind had not bowed him. He smiled, nodding at the glint of ruby and gold that divided their achievements.

"Adano."

"Par Marano," his brother said, extending his arms.

The embrace was brief. This much Sendari expected.

It was formal. This . . . he had not. And although Adano had chosen to travel with his eldest son-which was, in disputed terrain, an open gesture of trust-he did not summon his kai to his side.

Compared to other cuts, other losses, this was shallow, but it stung nonetheless. The human capacity for pain, it seemed, was endless and subtle.

Sendari stepped back and bowed, rising to the sight of Adano's almost expressionless face.

"We . . . have had word . . . that Ser Alesso has ma.s.sed his armies on the Northern front of Raverra."

Sendari nodded. "It is true."

"No word was sent to the Tyr'agnate."

"No word was received from him," Sendari replied, slipping with effort into the smooth neutrality of the High Court. "We do not trespa.s.s on the Terrean of Mancorvo; nor do we seek to feed or house our forces upon its soil. As such, word was not deemed necessary."

"Indeed."

"No word was received from the Tor'agar."

"There are some words that serafs cannot be entrusted to deliver," Adano replied. He hesitated, and then added, "I sent word to you."

"I am not the Tyr'agar."

"No. You are par di'Marano."

"And Widan."

"Indeed. Adviser to Ser Alesso."

Sendari nodded.

"And of the Serra Teresa?"

"I have not seen her since the Festival of the Moon."

"Others have?"

"Perhaps. No one in the Tor Leonne."

"Did you send her from the Tor?"

"I?" Bitter word. "The Serra Teresa answers to the kai Marano, when she chooses to answer at all. I thought, perhaps, you had summoned her North."

"In the North, at the moment, she would be of value to me. But no. I did not summon her." He drew his hands behind his back, clasping them there. "Sendari-"

"Kai Marano?"

"Is she dead?"

"Not by my hand."

"Forgive me. I had to ask."

"What is there to forgive? There was little love between us."

"But not none. She is Marano."

"Not none," Sendari replied. He met his brother's gaze. Held it. "But it is not of the Serra Teresa that we meet to speak."

"As you say."

"The Tyr'agnate?"

"The Serra Donna en'Lamberto received a letter," his brother replied. "Or so she said to one of my wives."

"And its contents?" Sendari's hand rose to his beard; Adano smiled in spite of the formality of his stance.

"It was a letter written to a Serra, by a Serra."

"Ah. And your wife?"

"She is well. She has hope that we will be spared the rigors of war in the future."

Sendari was weary.

Adano knew it; he wore the same lack of ease.

"You know the Tyr'agnate better than I," Sendari said quietly, hands idly brushing the strands of his beard. "You have served him well since ascending to our father's rank.

"What do you think he will do in the coming conflict?"

"It depends on the actions of Ser Alesso. The taking of the Tor Leonne occurred with no warning-none, at least, to the Lambertans. Mareo di'Lamberto is a man bound by honor, but he is not blinded by it. He is aware that Oerta and Sorga.s.sa have fielded armies in service to Ser Alesso. That did not come without negotiation."

"Ser Mareo kai di'Lamberto would never have condoned what occurred."

"And you expect him to do so now?"

"I expect nothing."

"Ah."

Ser Adano bowed. "Understand," he said, his tone a match for his brother's, "that I have sworn an oath to Lamberto."

"Indeed. As Tor'agar you could do little else."

"He is a man worthy of such an oath, Sendari."

"And Alesso di'Alesso is not?"

Adano met his brother's eyes. "Sendari." He raised a hand.

Sendari subsided.

"I am the kai," Adano told his brother. "I have, as I can, aided you. I sent Teresa to the Tor at your request. I sent information about the events in Mancorvo as it was politic. I will not order you not to serve Ser Alesso. No man who fought in the war almost thirteen years ago would.

"But I will not be forsworn." His gaze was now unwavering. "Mareo di'Lamberto was neutral to your cause."

"Neutrality was prudent."

"Yes. And Mareo di'Lamberto is prudent. But it was not merely a matter of prudence. Now he is torn."

"He owes no loyalty to the clan Leonne."

"None. And when the last member of that clan comes at the head of the Northern armies, he owes less than none."

"The Northern armies have moved, and in number. They are almost certainly ama.s.sing-if they have not already done so-within the borders of Averda."

"In what numbers?"

"We believe they have traveled with not less than twenty-five thousand men."

Adano's silence was gratifying. It did not, however, last.

"Mancorvo and Averda were not meant to survive the new Tyr's rule under their current rulers."

Sendari offered no reply; there was none that could be offered without insult.

Adano's lips thinned. His smile held no mirth whatsoever. "Rethink that strategy."

"The strategy is not mine."

"No. But Alesso values your counsel."

"And Mareo di'Lamberto values yours, does he not?"

"Yes. But he values it less than he values his clan. Less," he added, "than he valued his brother. When Ser Alesso can draw and wield the Sun Sword, the Tyr'agnate will offer his oath and his services."

"And until then?"

"I . . . believe that he will not move against you."

"That is all that we desire at the moment."