Part 17 (1/2)
”Watching them, Aeriel felt the pearlstuff subsiding, moving coolly within her, full of light. Before the kneeling prince, the grey horse s.h.i.+fted, danced.
”One shrug of your shoulders would have plunged me to my death,” said Irrylath quietly. ”Instead, faithfully, you kept your oath. Now I must keep mine. Take your vengeance, Avarclon. It is only just. I am yours. Do with me as you will.”
As he fell silent, the winged horse tossed his head, the long horn of twisted silver glinting keen upon his brow. The air hummed softly with its pa.s.sing.
”Dying in Pendar was a hard thing,” the starhorse answered. ”For a long time, my ghost thirsted for your death.”
Coming forward, Avarclon bowed his head till his mane brushed Irrylath's cheek. His horn rested blade-sharp upon the young man's shoulder, beside the great vein of his throat. The prince neither flinched nor pulled away. He only waited.
”But all have suffered the Witch's harm,” the Warhorse said, ”you as much as I or any other. One thing alone will satisfy me now. Do it, and I will count our score settled and done. Help me to repeople my deserted land. Aid me in rebuilding the great kingdom over which I once kept watch. Sit upon your father's throne at Tour-of-Kings, Prince Irrylath. Be king in Avaric.”
Aeriel felt the sweet rush of relief filling her. It swept over the other listeners like a tide. Roshka and Irrylath's Istern brothers gave a ragged cheer. White-faced, the Lady Syllva leaned in the arms of her youngest, Hadin. Sabr bowed her face to one hand and set her drawn dagger back in its sheath. Irrylath himself gazed at Avarclon in astonishment. The winged Warhorse pulled back a pace, snorting, his breath stirring the long strands of Irrylath's black hair. The prince reached up to him.
”That I will do,” he whispered, ”and gladly.”
He turned to Aeriel, jubilant, holding out his hand as though to share his joy with her-but Aeriel drew back. Talb's eye caught hers. Did he know? Did he guess?
”So the war is done,” the duarough mage said, ”and Irrylath is Avaric's king. But what of you, child? What will you do now?”
Aeriel could not reply. She wanted so to go to Irrylath, to take his hand, but she felt the radiance of the pearlstuff in her blood intensify: a warning. The Lady Syllva, her color regained, left Hadin and turned to Aeriel.
”I and my train return soon to Esternesse,” she said. ”But most of my sons must stay behind, each to aid his Ion in the rebuilding of the West. Only Hadin returns with me, for your native Pirs already has a sovereign.”
The Lady held out her hand to Aeriel.
”Will you not come with us, dear child, lend Hadin and me your company? Esternesse will be a lonely place without his brothers.”
The Lady's eyes invited her, her smile hopeful yet sad.
”It is to my rue that I bore only sons-never a daughter to be my heir. You are my niece, the daughter of my birthsister, who once ruled my dominion in my stead. Come across the Sea-of-Dust with us,” she said. ”Be heir to the Ladys.h.i.+p of Esternesse.”
Aeriel shook her head, refusing the other's hand. ”If it is the law in Esternesse that says no man may rule as Lord, then it is an unjust law. If it is merely custom, let it be custom no more. It is Hadin who shall be with you in Esternesse. Make him your heir.”
Syllva and her youngestborn exchanged a glance.
”Since you wish it,” the Lady replied at last, ”it will be so.”
Hadin bowed to Aeriel, his face full of wonder and delight. One by one, his Istern brothers came forward, each accompanying his Ion. The wolf of Bern spoke first.
”Come rule in my land, which was so pleasant once. Together, we shall make it so again.”
Aeriel shook her head. ”Let him who was your rider rule your land.”
Red Arat, one arm bandaged in a sling, came forward beside Elverlon.
”Be queen of my strange and wondrous land, Aeriel,” the c.o.c.katrice urged.
Shaking her head, she answered, ”Let Arat rule for me.”
Dappled Zambulon came forward, Syril at his side.
”Mine is the fairest land by far,” the winged panther purred. ”I and my people would welcome you.”
Again she shook her head. ”Let that be Syril's task.”
Bra.s.s-colored Terralon approached, accompanied by Syril's birthbrother, Lern.
”You spent your childhood in my land, great Aeriel,” said the gryphon of Terrain. ”Return. Be sibyl on the altar-cliffs of Orm, before whom even the satrap bows.”Sadly, Aeriel cast down her eyes. ”The sibyls of Orm are no more, I fear, and your consort the sfinx has deposed the satrap for trafficking in slaves. Let Lern replace him as ruler in my stead.”
Drawing near, Poratun in purple robes beckoned her from beside Ranilon.
”You have never seen my land,” the winged salamander said. ”But it is marvelous strange and fair. Come sample it and be its queen.”
Regretfully, Aeriel turned away. ”Give the crown to Poratun.”
Lastly, her own brother Roshka came forward beside the bronze stag Pirsalon. Hadin, who had been that Ion's rider during the war, stood back holding the reins of Nightwalker, Roshka's steed. This time it was the man who spoke and not the Ion.
”Erryl, my sister,” said Roshka, ”now called Aeriel, you are our father's firstborn and the right heir in Pirs. Return with me to take your place as suzeranee.”
With the greatest sorrow yet, Aeriel shook her head. ”It is true I am Pirs's rightful heir. But you have been its crown prince all the years that I was lost, a slave in Terrain. Be suzerain in my stead, brother. It is what I wish.”
Roshka bowed and fell back a pace as the others had done. Another came forward, laughing, then.
”So, little pale one,” Orrototo chided, her desert walking stick in hand. Aeriel eyed the cinnamon-colored chieftess of the Ma'ambai and felt her spirit ever so gently lift. ”You are refusing all honors and offers of crowns. Could it be, having accomplished your task, you now wish to rest?”
Wearily, Aeriel closed her eyes. If only she might rest. The dark chieftess touched her cheek.
”Come with me,” she said. ”Wander the dunes of Pendar as once you did. There, everyone goes where she wishes, and everyone is free.”
But Aeriel could only shake her head. ”Chieftess, my task is not yet done, and I am not yet free.”
The other's eyes grew rueful, but at last she, too, fell back. Talb the Mage spoke.
”Daughter, I, also, must go. Now that all this water is back in the world, the mighty underland streams of Aiderlan will once more begin to flow, and someone with a small store of sorcery”-here he scoffed modestly-”should be on hand to help things along. I'd beg you to come and lend your aid, if I'd the least hope of your saying yes.”
His wistfulness almost made her smile, though her heart was very sore-but a commotion parted the ranks of Syllva's bowwomen suddenly. The Isterners stepped hastily aside to allow a tight knot of little waist-high people through. None of them were any taller than Talb.
”Sorcery indeed!” the foremost snorted, her red hair falling in four thick braids, one before, one behind each ear. ”We can put all in Aiderlan to rights with machines alone, brother. You can keep your sorcery.”
Maruha stood indignantly before the little mage. She was garbed all in padded leather, a round s.h.i.+eld slung behind one shoulder and a shortsword at her belt. Aeriel spotted Collum and Brandl behind her, and others in battledress-but many in the group wore only the grey tatters of slaves. Marks upon the necks and wrists of some showed where collars and shackles had chafed, though those had now been struck away. They looked thin but flushed with triumph, still dizzy with disbelief. So these were the ones Oriencor had taken, Aeriel guessed, now rescued by their kith. Talb started back from Maruha in surprise.
”Well, sister,” he exclaimed. ”I vow! It has been a world's age since last we met.”
”Longer, since you traipsed off to Lonwury to study your nitpated sorcery. Never had any use for honest machinery, did you? Except apparatus for distilling your infernal drams.”
She humphed in disgust. Collum and Brandl exchanged a glance which, Aeriel noted wryly, held more than a little sympathy for Talb. Maruha caught the look and glowered.
”Now your nephew has gotten like notions of running off overland to become a bard! I haven't been able to keep his fingers off that little harp since we left the City of Crystalgla.s.s.”