Page 95 of Court of Talons
My father explodes. “You should have died in the attempt! It is against every edict of the Exalted Imperium.” Something else seems to finally occur to him. “Where isNazar? The other guards? Surely they would not have let you?—”
“Hold, Lord Lemille.” Rihad crosses over to his throne and settles into it, looking down on me as if he’s been charged with solving a particularly perplexing riddle. “We are in your debt for your service and fervor. But you’re not being entirely honest with us, I think.”
He slides his glance to Miriam, who nods once. Rihad curls his lip. “I thought so. Would that your intuition could cut with a sharper blade, Councilor Miriam. For us to not realize that there was a woman in our midst…”
She appears unfazed by his rebuke, and once again I wonder how much she truly knows. “But there is a misdirection that Ihaveperceived,” she says, her eyes flashing. “Lemille, share the whole truth with us. This girl is your daughter.”
“No, she’s not!” My father’s denial is less alarming the second time. As he squares off against Miriam, my thoughts slip ahead to my own death.
Will they kill me by the time-honored form of execution, beheading, or will they simply call the guards in to slit my throat? I could run straight out of the First House—escape the way I did before, summoning Gent to carry me far away. But I had the advantage of surprise then…and a head start. This time I’d never reach the open air, where I could safely summon Gent. I’d be running directly into the arms of the guards.
I grit my teeth. The way of the warrior is death, Nazar has told me, too many times to count. I knew it when the band bit its way into my arm. I knew it when I first cut my hair and donned the attire of a man. Silently, I pray that Nazar andCaleb fled once they saw me disappear with my father. Nazar might have, I think. Caleb, I don’t know. He’s already displayed a perilous tendency to make unwise choices. And he isn’t exactly anonymous with his missing arm.
“Talia of the Tenth House.” Rihad’s voice seems to have acquired added resonance, and it quiets my own thoughts as well as my father’s and Miriam’s squabbling. “Either way, you cannot die this night.”
That sets Father off again. “Shemust,” he blusters. “It’s the rule of the Imperium.”
“And we must ever follow the orders of the Exalted Imperium,” Rihad says, derision dripping from his words. He leans forward, studying me like I’m a particularly poisonous beetle. “Oh, she will die, must die, as you say. But not tonight, I think. You weren’t watching the battle at the Tournament of Gold today, Lemille. You didn’t see what yourdaughterdid.”
“The petals.” Miriam’s words are so low as to be a whisper, but I hear her. She stares at me with renewed interest. “The connection with your Divh. But a woman…even a direct descendant of the first line.” She frowns. “It simply cannot be.”
Rihad continues as if Miriam hasn’t spoken, trampling over her words. “She beat multiple warriors, Lemille, or her Divh did. One she should have killed outright to save me the trouble. The others, however, were men of strength and worth.”
My father’s scoff is absolute. “She could do no such thing.”
“She could and she did, in so doing capturing the attention of the masses, I’m afraid. For Merritt of the Tenth House not to show his face tomorrow would cause…significant unrest. I can’t allow it.”
Beside Rihad, the great fireplace seems to sputter and pop, and I find my gaze drawn to it as the Lord Protector speaks. A shadow cast in the flames surges up with each crackling sizzle, and I imagine more than see the creature who was there before,staring at Rihad from the center of the blaze. A figure with his face in shadow, cloaked in fire…
“Talia!” Rihad barks the word so loud, I jump, and I force my attention back to him.
He still leans forward, his right arm bent, resting his elbow on his knee. “You will fight tomorrow, and you will fight honorably—or dishonorably, it makes no difference to me. But you will die, know that for certain. As will your attendants at the moment of your demise. Whether you fall by the hand of one man or many, it will be done by this hour tomorrow night.” He waves out toward the coliseum, far across the open plain.
“The Tournament of Gold is intended first and foremost as a skill competition between the very best warrior knights. It can be much more than that, however. It is also an opportunity for men to kill, if they are lucky…” He twists his lips. “Or be killed, if they aren’t.”
I lift my chin. If my life is ash, what I say here won’t matter. “There’s no honor in killing for sport. Surely some of the warriors left in this tournament believe that.”
“A true warrior knows no honor other than to his lord.” This time, it’s my father who speaks, not Rihad. Apparently, he’s regained his backbone, at least enough to spit words at me. “Which you would know if you were a man and had any shred of worth to you.”
I stiffen, but the matter is already settled in Rihad’s mind. “The men of the First and Second are mine to command,” he says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’ll face both in equal combat. And your partner in the team competition shall be Kheris of the Third.” He laughs as he sees the expression on my face. “At least you know his serpent well. Your Divh will have to be careful that it doesn’t face three opponents on the tournament field, not two.”
“She shouldn’t even be allowed to compete,” whines my father. For once, I almost agree with him. The mercy of a quick death seems far preferable to what awaits me in the coliseum.
“Shewon’t,” Rihad holds up a hand, in a voice now stony with command. “Merritt of the Tenth House will. And there he’ll also die—a second time—for the greater glory of the Protectorate. Guards!”
He eyes me as the men march into the room. “This night, you’ll be the esteemed guest of the First House,” he says, his lips flattening into a thin smile. “I trust you will be comfortable.”
Chapter 40
The dungeon of the First House is deep and complex, but that shouldn’t surprise me. What does surprise me, however, is how unusual it is. Rihad has hewn pathways through the rock that all, eventually, must end up opening onto the enormous cavern fed by the waterfall. I know what’s down there now, but from the chittering cries beneath me, it seems that Szonja isn’t the cavern’s lone occupant. Depending on what other wild animals Rihad has let roam free in the vast underground space, it would make for easy disposal of any unfortunate captive when Rihad tires of housing him.
Still, it also makes for a pleasant vista, I expect, when the sun is high in the sky. As long as whatever is below stays below. For long minutes, I remain far enough back on my ledge, beyond the bars, to avoid whatever animals lurk down there. The cell is quite livable, I decide. It contains nothing but a stone floor and one of the ubiquitous jugs of water, but it’s still…habitable. I’m wearing enough clothing to turn some of it into a makeshift pillow and blanket, but I have no thoughts of sleep. Instead, at length, I venture out onto the ledge and sit, my feet dangling over the edge.
Szonja doesn’t stir in the stillness below, but I have a sense of her anyway. I wonder if there’s any other human prisoner in the other dungeon cells. The place has an abandoned feeling to it, and I suspect Rihad cleaned house prior to the tournament. At the Tenth House, we don’t even have a dungeon. We’ve never had a need for one.
I sigh, thinking of what the Tenth House manor must look like now, in high summer. I left the animals in the capable hands of the chamberlain, and the lambs would now be steady on their feet, the foals gaining size and strength. Even the chickens would be deeply pleased with the weather. The spring has been long and wet, but now there would be sunshine every day. Sunshine and grain and safety. I received as much as well, as long as I’d lived in that house. Safety, perhaps not always. But sunshine and enough food to grow strong. And even my mother…
I swallow, pushing thoughts of her away. My mother was always kind to me, even as she was a follower of the Light, and moreover of my father. But she’d still done me an immense service at the moment of my birth, and probably many times thereafter until she died. She’d kept mealive…I can’t imagine the price she must have paid for that, especially since she’d borne my father no more children after Merritt.