Part 23 (1/2)
He blinked up at her, startled. ”What-what does it mean?”
”Your father thought it a position of power, of leaders.h.i.+p. He believed a Cyne lived to be obeyed and to be served by the obedient. What do you think?”
”Well, I . . .” Well, what, Airleas Dimwit? You've dreamed of being set before the Stone every day since your father's death. What is it you dream of? ”It is leaders.h.i.+p, surely. A Cyne must lead his people to prosperity and strength.”
”How must he lead? By force? By guile?”
”By . . . by force of example.” There, that sounded good. He also felt it to be true. ”A Cyne must not be treacherous or greedy or hard-hearted. He must be honorable and trustworthy and compa.s.sionate. And just-of course, he must be just.”
Taminy rose and walked slowly to her window where the mullioned gla.s.s refracted the waning violet light of day. ”Why must he be these things?”
”Well . . . because it would please the Spirit. For the Spirit says, 'The most beloved of all things in My eyes is justice; turn your eyes toward it if you love Me.' And it would be a blessing to the people. If a Cyne isn't just and honorable and compa.s.sionate, his people will not be content, nor his country healthy.”
”Then the Cyne is governed by and dependent on the good-pleasure of others?”
”Of course. He must obey the Spirit and the Meri; he must respect the a.s.sembly and the Houses and the advice of the Privy Council . . . and the people, naturally, who speak to him through these means.”
”So, he is guided by those who look to him for guidance. Yet, is he not their master?”
Airleas knew a trick question when he heard one. He knew Taminy was leading him toward some end, and cursed his feeble wits for not divining what that end was. He called to mind the Cynes of Caraid-land who had been lauded for their spiritual greatness: Malcuim the Uniter, of course; his son Paecces, Peace-Lover; Bitan-ig, called the Preserver; Bearach Spearman; Siolta the Lawgiver; more recently, his grandfather, Ciarda, Friend of All.
Tales of Ciarda's exploits had always thrilled him-especially those that related how the young Cyneric had courageously weathered his own father's distrust and treachery to take the Throne at a young age; how he had braved the censure of the a.s.sembly and Privy Council in permitting his sister, Fioned, to marry a Hillwild Ren; how he had judiciously handled the trespa.s.s of Deasach fis.h.i.+ng fleets into Caraidin waters; how he had gone about the country in disguise to see how he might better serve his people.
Airleas met Taminy's eyes. That was it! In the life of a great Cyne like Ciarda it was so plain to see. ”The Cyne is not the master of the people, but their servant.”
Taminy didn't even leave him a moment to feel proud of himself. ”And what,” she asked him, ”is servitude?”
Airleas sighed and pondered the question. It was not something he'd thought about much-at least, not in connection with being Cyne. He suspected he was about to have that error pointed out to him.
”Well, it's . . . ah . . . serving the people, I suppose. Doing what's best for them.”
”And how does a Cyne serve his people? How does he determine what's best for them?”
Though Ciarda Malcuim had toured the country seeking the answer to that question, Airleas suspected that would not work for every Cyne.
Well, I can keep blathering and make real fool of myself and I can just admit- ”I-I don't know, Mistress. I suppose that's what I'm trying to learn.”
”Servitude,” said Taminy, ”is the station of preferring another to oneself. It is embodied in the act of putting another's welfare or interests before one's own. It is the continual bowing of one's will to the will of another.”
”The Meri,” he said. ”I must bow to the Meri's will. That's what you're telling me, isn't it? And that I must put the interests of my people before my own. But I do that already, don't I? The Meri's will is my will and my people's interests are my own.”
”Your people. They belong to you, do they?”
There was a glint of humor in those green eyes, but Airleas saw nothing even remotely humorous in the situation. He was frustrated, and let his frustration answer.
”Yes, of course they do. They certainly don't belong to Daimhin Feich. A Malcuim has always been Cyne.”
Taminy smiled, but behind that smile, Airleas sensed something darker, more urgent. ”The people you saw here this afternoon-do they belong to me?”
”Oh, yes! They adore you! They love you!”
”Why?”
”Be-because you heal them and-and soothe their anger and mend their broken hearts.”
”Odd. It seems to me that I belong to them.”
Airleas paused to consider that, and in the pause, light dawned. ”You serve them. That's what you mean. That's what a Cyne must do for his people. He must heal and soothe and mend . . . and guide-the way you guide me, with love and respect.”
”Why, Airleas? Why must a Cyne do these things for his people?”
”Because they're the right things to do. The Spirit blesses a Cyne who does these things with happiness and prosperity, and blesses his people likewise. And the people adore and obey such a Cyne.”
”What lies at the heart of a Cyne's justice and compa.s.sion? The hope of happiness and prosperity? The promise of obedience and adoration?”
Airleas chewed his lip. He wanted those things, all of them, but knew without doubt that they were not what a just Cyne-a Cyne like Ciarda-would base his Cynes.h.i.+p upon.
”Find the answer to that question, Airleas, and you will know why the Gwyr would not be seen by you today.”
A chill trembled up his spine and his lips went numb. ”Did Gwynet-?”
”Gwynet said nothing. Nor did she need to.”
”Will you tell me, please?” He begged. ”Will you tell me why the Gwyr slipped away from me? It would be so much quicker than me guessing.”
She laughed. ”Airleas, the only real answers are the ones we find ourselves. The ones we must buy with our tears and longing and desire. I will tell you this: The seat of a Cyne's power isn't the Throne, nor even the Stone of Ochan. His strongest fortress is not Mertuile, nor even Halig-liath. The seat of a Cyne's power and his fortress is the Covenant between G.o.d, Man and Meri. The more you understand the Covenant, the more firm will your rule be, and the more true your servitude.”
Away he went, feeling as he imagined a Prentice must feel on his first day of Pilgrimage when the Weard has at last set a riddle to be solved and a quest to be undertaken: Inspired, inadequate and a little confused.
Chapter 11.
Alas, for when the weapon is in the hand of the ignorant and cowardly, no one's life and belongings are safe; thieves grow in strength. Likewise, when a flawed priesthood acquires control of a system, it becomes as a wall between their people and the light of faith.
- Osraed Tynedale
A Brief History of the Cusps
It filled the eyes terribly and ten horses drew it. Even lashed down to its sledge, its muzzle lay level with the shoulders of its mounted escort. Children followed its progress through the streets of Creiddylad. Their elders stopped and stared as it pa.s.sed by, squinting against the glare of sun on the burnished black barrel. It gleamed golden, too, with radiating curls of some yellow metal that trailed from muzzle to flank as if spewed from a small Sun trapped within the gaping maw. Up the Cyne's Way it rolled, ponderous, making it's way to the gates of Mertuile.
Ruadh Feich's heart cowered in his breast as he watched its approach. He'd never seen anything like it-nor even imagined that such a weapon existed. His eyes turned to the half-dozen drays behind it and tried to picture what its ordnance must be like. Below him, the gates of Mertuile swung open to admit the colossus. Sweating cold with awe, Ruadh hurried down from the parapet to join his cousin in welcoming the Deasach party.