The Sun Sword - The Broken Crown Part 68

The mantle.

"Member APhaniel?" The Berriliya said quietly.

"It is already done," the mage replied, quick with the words, as if he did not wish to appear to be following the commands of another. Strands of platinum hair flew a moment in the absolutely still room, and then he bowed sardonically to Kiriel. "Kiriel di'Ashaf," he said softly.

"Meralonne APhaniel," she replied.

"You have a good memory, Kiriel," The Kalakar said, as she took a seat at the long table, and motioned for their visitors to do the same. They could not shed power, but they could shed the formality of it, if they so chose.

"Too good a memory." It was Member APhaniel who spoke. "I do not believe that my given name was ever used in your presence."

"You are well enough known, Member APhaniel." It was the youngest woman in the room, save Kiriel, who spoke, tossing her dark curls out of the fringes of her lashes and binding them with a swathe of red cloth. "If she was curious, she could have asked. Devon said that the first thing you did was practically order King Cor-malyn to execute her."

"True enough." Gray eyes met black ones; a platinum brow lifted. "And is that what happened?"

Kiriel shrugged coolly. "No. I did not know who you were until someone spoke your name-but I knew of you." Let him wonder. It was, after all, the truth.

"I... see."

"Did she do it to you, as well?" Kiriel said, the bitterness in her voice adding years to her face." 'She'?""Evayne. Did she take you from your home and bring you here?""From my-" He froze, and she knew at once-the blood knew-that he was, for a moment, afraid. It was gone before she could hold it long enough to twist; gone before she could make a weapon of it that she could use. If she could; that had never been her art, thanks to Ashaf.

Ashaf's life had cost her much.

But her death had been worse.

"No, Kiriel," the mage said gravely, "Evayne did not bring me to Averalaan; I was here long before her birth."

They don't know, she thought suddenly. They don't know your secret. And they don't know mine.

But they know I have one.She did not reveal what he had not revealed. Because a secret, like a concealed dagger, was only useful once, and this was not the time for it.

"How do you know of me?"

She said nothing.

"I see." He bowed slightly. Conceding? "This is The Berriliya-Commander of the second army.

The Kalakar, as you know, is Commander of the third. Commander Allen," and the quietest man in the room nodded briefly, "commands the first army." He turned then to a woman whom Kiriel also recognized. "This is the Princess Mirialyn ACormaris; she represents the interests of the Crowns. This is Devon, and this is Jewel; they are both ATerafin."

"And they represent?"

"The interests of the Crown." It was the Princess who answered, drawing Kiriel's eye. Of all the people in the room, Mirialyn was hardest to look at-because once she started, Kiriel found it very, very difficult to stop. The Princess held a light like a vessel made for only that purpose;

where darkness edged her it was thin and fine, a net made of life, but not a plant with deep roots. Among the kin, beauty was defined solely by power.

And yet.

And yet they saw the light as clearly-more clearly- than she. They did not hold it; could not take it; could not contain it. Given enough time, they could corrupt it and destroy it, but a light such as Mirialyn ACormaris carried would take several lifetimes to dim and tarnish. And so they disavowed it.

She is lost to us, Kiriel. Look elsewhere; look long.

No. she shook her head as a voice that she never wanted to hear again touched her memory. Speaking words that were oft spoken, deeply felt.

I will not listen to you again.

"Sentrus."

Necessary interruption was usually humiliating; this was to be no exception, although no one laughed or sneered. Kiriel felt the sting across her pale skin, the burn of blush; she looked away from the Princess and struggled to continue to do so.

Jewel ATerafin felt the shift in Kiriel di'Ashaf; she could almost see it in the lines of the young woman's face. For a moment-for just a moment-entranced by the Princess of the blood, the clouds had separated, and a glimpse of something completely different had shown through.

A glimpse of something familiar; something that would have attracted her when she'd been on the streets; something worth reaching out for. Something worth following.

Something that she had followed, and taken in, at least once. It surprised her, and Jewel ATerafin was one of the seer-born; she wasn't used to being surprised.

She was a good judge of character. It was her pride, and it was more besides; it had kept her alive for long enough to come to the notice of The Terafin. She had lived in the twenty-fifth holding with her small den, much less worthy of note than even the b.a.s.t.a.r.d child of a well off patris. Stealing for a living was living, and only a fool tried to survive that life in this city on her own. Jewel was, and had been, no fool, but her lot had been slightly different than other orphaned children: Each and every member of the den she'd thieved with had been her personal choice.

And she had once taken in a killer.

Duster.

She hadn't thought about Duster for ten years.

Duster had been her right hand; Duster had been the heavy. In a fight, Duster had been the muscle -if something that graceful and fast could be called muscle. She'd been the easiest of the den to taunt into stupidity, and she held grudges for longer than a G.o.d. They'd made jokes about it, back then. Very quiet ones.

She'd killed three men before she became one of Jewel's den-kin. The first one, in self-defense. The second, in anger. The third in vengeance, although she never would explain what had driven her to such a revenge. It was the third death that had made of Duster a killer.

But Duster had chosen the den. The den had chosen Duster. And although she had killed that lone man, had truly tested the limits of how much suffering she could both endure and willingly, personally inflict, she had served, in heat and cool anger, better than anyone. Had died in that service.

"Jewel?"

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I was-I was thinking." Devon raised a peppered brow, and she shook her head slightly: no threat.

Kiriel now hid behind shadows that were more than just lack of light.

Without thinking-and Jewel, surrounded by men and women of this rank, never acted without thinking-she brushed past Devon ATerafin, past Mirialyn ACormaris, past the three Commanders who had earned their place in a grim and b.l.o.o.d.y history-as if they were the pa.s.sersby, and this was the open street, and this young woman was in search of, in need of, a den.

And then, as she met dark eyes that were somehow shining like liquid gold, she froze.

"Kiriel di'Ashaf," she said quietly. "I'm Jewel ATera-fin. You can call me Jay."

Kiriel didn't answer.

Jewel didn't expect it. "You're part of the Kalakar House Guard. Pretty impressive for a newcomer. I know people who'd kill for a place here."

There was no reply.

"But you're wasted here, and we both know it."

She heard a cough at her elbow; two in fact. Ignored them both. "We are considering a

declaration of war against the Dominion of Annagar; it has happened before in the history of the Empire; no doubt, it will happen again. But this declaration-it's not ours alone to make.

"This is your war."Silence, one marked by the raising of eyebrows and exchanged glances between powerful men, and women, who had somehow become spectators.

"Don't tell me how to fight my battles," Kiriel said, relenting enough to show teeth.

"Jewel," Devon whispered, "what-"

"Not now." She didn't even look back at him. "I can't tell you how to fight them. 1 don't know

enough about what they are." She shrugged again. "But I do know what I saw in the Great

Chamber."

Kind's smile was thin and cold-but it was there. And it froze in place. "You're the one who shouted."

"Yes."

"You're fast." Respect, and Jewel knew she didn't often show it.

Jewel ATerafin didn't take respect she hadn't earned. Not from her den-kin. "No."

"Then what?"

"I'm seer-born."

Silence. Then, heavy with forced nonchalance, "What do you see for me?"

"War."

Kiriel snorted. It was odd; the single act of derision made her seem more youthful; almost her age, in fact.

"With me at your side."

"What?"

"What?"

What?

"You? You're no soldier."

"No. And neither are you. You're Kiriel. When your enemies come hunting you, they won't stop in the ranks of the foot soldiers-because you won't be there." She saw past the paling alabaster of Kiriel's skin, into the depths of eyes that were golden and cold.

Oh, the silence. Jewel wondered what in the h.e.l.ls she was doing, and she hoped, whatever it was, she was going to survive it.

"And where will I be, seer?"

"You'll be with the kai Leonne." Jewel knew the words were true the minute she said them. Just didn't know why, but it didn't concern her yet. It would, though."Why?""Because you've already saved his life once. And because, before this is out, Allasakar-Etridian won't seem like such a difficult foe."

Kiriel's eyes narrowed.

"Kiriel, your enemies and our enemies are the same, whether you know it or not. There will be a

Sun King in the Dominion of Annagar, or there will be a puppet.""And this so-called Sun King won't be your puppet?"Jewel shrugged. "Meet him. Decide for yourself. And decide, Kiriel di'Ashaf, just how far you're willing to go to protect him."

Kiriel shrugged, but the movement was forced and edged. "His protection is not my concern. I'm part of the House Guards," she said at last. "I'm one of-one of the Black Ospreys."

Jewel was surprised. She'd heard of them, though- who hadn't? It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that that was where Kiriel was placed. But she knew that Kiriel didn't belong there -because if she had, if she'd truly found kin, she wouldn't have had that momentary look that could draw Jay Markess across both a decade and a room. "But I'm going to war beside Valedan kai di'Leonne. We need to win this war," she told Kiriel, and knew it of a sudden for absolute truth. Felt it so sharply, the fear of loss was visceral.

"You can't."

Something in the girl's tone set Jewel's teeth on edge, but she'd heard it before, a dozen times. Fear made fear a weapon-and the G.o.ds knew in the streets of the lower holdings, you needed to hone whatever weapons you could. Jewel Markess had always understood the pleasure inherent in causing fear.

She didn't bother to hide hers behind bl.u.s.ter; no point to it. Because she knew that Kiriel's taunt was also Kiriel's truth, and for an icy second the ghostly otherwhere of a battlefield strewn with corpses fogged her vision.

She understood it then. The vision. The image of Kiriel, darkness wreathed and absorbed; the sight of Valedan, bleeding, bruised-and living.