Andrea Höst - Voice of the Lost

"I won’t pretend that most of those who rule aren’t of Ibisian descent," she said, trying to be absolutely fair. "That is hardly surprising, when titles are hereditary. And Ibisians are not thought arrogant merely by accident. But I have seen no suffering. Or any indication that laws are interpreted in the favour of Ibis-lar over Farak-lar. Though hampered by Medarists and perhaps the pure camp of Ibisians, Palladians as a whole are prospering. It is only my opinion, but I do not think Emperor Grevain would overset that, simply to replace Kier Inelkar on the Silver Throne.

Tarsus' reaction was overwhelmed by Thessan’s. "You could hardly give us any other answer," he said, in a low, trembling voice. "I will not forget what you have done. You killed those who would have redressed the old wrong–"

"No." Medair said the word flatly, angrily. "I defended Athere against an invasion. Stop trying to fight a five-hundred year past war."

Tarsus again restrained his fellow, gripping Thessan’s arm tightly, then asked in a quieter, but no less accusative tone: "Can you deny that there are those in Palladium who wish to be freed from White Snake tyranny?"

Medair had to force herself not to simply send them away so she could return to mourning. Or give in to the very large part of her which wanted to slap Tarsus, to shriek and tear his hair and ask him how he dared to show himself before her when he had ignored their warnings, when he had run with that mirror, and let it fall and brought Illukar’s death down on him and left her with no way out.

She took a breath, slow and deep.

"Of course I can’t. What you refuse to let yourself acknowledge is that they are not the only true Palladians." Medair gestured past Tarsus, to the row of guards silently watching them, and flame-haired Liak ar Haedrin with her Ibisian uniform and creamy skin. "Were you going to liberate her from Ibisian rule? Or kill her along with the White Snakes you hate so much?"

Tarsus looked at Kel ar Haedrin for a long moment, and the Velvet Sword blinked back impassively. "The White Snake invasion was wrong," he said, apparently trying to rebuild the foundations of his animosity.

"Yes. And the Empire defended itself."

"They stole the throne!"

"They conquered Palladium," Medair said. "Five hundred years ago. And became part of it."

"What of those who don’t think White Snakes are a part of Palladium? What of those who raise their voices to me, to the true heir of that line, and ask for their freedom? Should I just ignore them?"

"Perhaps not." Medair looked at him, and her own anger faded. So earnest, so impassioned. But no longer sure that hate was the way. "Where would the killing have stopped, Tarsus? How many would it have taken, before you considered Palladium cleansed? Would you have killed all who were pale, or over-tall, just to be sure? Or would it be permitted to have a quarter Ibisian blood? An eighth? People who have lived in Palladium all their lives, who think of themselves as Palladian, who speak Parlance and who would consider you the invader? Will you also oust those who are Farakkian blood who have been appointed by Ibisians? Yes, you could make the Ibisians pay, but is it worth destroying Palladium in the process?"

"It can’t be forgotten," Thessan broke in. "It can’t just be put aside. They will always be invaders, they will always have been the ones who made war. They can’t be allowed to live." His voice was a pitch higher than usual, and he said the words as if he repeated a child’s well-worn lesson, a litany to block out any doubt. "A war does not finish merely because the victors have claimed the prize."

"What is your position, then, Thessan, by that way of thinking? Decia just invaded. Should that never be forgiven? Should Palladians not tolerate Decians to live?"

"No doubt the White Snakes are greedy for our land–" Thessan retorted, hotly, but Islantar’s cool voice slid into the fray.

"Palladium has no interest in expanding her borders," the Kierash said, with serene confidence. Thessan rounded on him as if looking for relief in action, and Medair saw the guards surge forward a step. Islantar didn’t move.

Held back, perhaps by the utter calm in the Kierash’s eyes, Thessan did no more than clench his fists. "The White Snakes are the problem," he said, desperately stubborn. "Without the White Snakes, there would be no war. Farakkan would be united once again."

Medair sighed softly. "I doubt it," she said. It was as much an admission to herself as anything. "The Ibisians invaded, true, but the Empire fell because the West took the opportunity it had been given."

Tarsus lifted a hand as if pushing that argument away. "The West was used by the White Snakes," he said, tightly.

"The West broke free of a conqueror. Don’t you see? Clinging to old grievances raises older ghosts. The West longed to go back to its old, fractured, fractious ways, but the Empire was too strong until the invasion. A Corminevar conquered Decia once. Made it a part of the Empire and installed a Duke. If you look back far enough, there was a time when Athere’s hill overlooked the grazing land of some cow-lord who had never heard of Corminevars."

Thessan shook his head, as if he had a bee trying to beat its way out of his skull. "This leads us nowhere. Cow-lords, the old disputes with the West. We are talking about now ."

"Yes. We are." It was Tarsus who said it, holding his head very high and still. "Thank you, Lady an Rynstar. I will – I am obliged for your opinion." He took Thessan’s arm in a tight grip and, with obvious effort, turned and walked through the line of guards and into the night.

"He’s thinking about it," Medair said when she and Islantar were alone. Half Kel ar Haedrin’s contingent remained, but had withdrawn so that they were barely visible. "Though perhaps bringing Thessan along was a mistake. He obviously has influence over Tarsus."

"But it is Prince Thessan I must convince," Islantar reminded her. "Tarsus might be used as he has been already, but unless we remove Queen Sendel’s line from Decia’s throne, Prince Thessan is the one who will fund a cause which should be long dead. And he does not have Tarsus' depth of empathy, nor the shock of causing this." Islantar glanced toward the Blight, and his face tightened. It could not be long, now, before Illukar attempted to stop what Tarsus had begun.

"I have asked Queen Sendel to allow me them both, for a year’s visit in Athere," Islantar continued. "And in that time–" He looked into the dark in the direction the Decian pair had gone. "Tarsus is already beginning to see that a ruler is owned by the people, not the other way around. Perhaps his ties to Thessan will be strong enough to bend the more rigid of that pair. And with both of them, and you, I may be able to weaken this eternal clutching of an old grievance to each new generation’s breast. The deaths of the past days will be a vivid wound, of course, but I can hope to ease it once the hurdle of the old is overcome."

"Were you ever given the chance to be a child, Kierash?" Medair asked, feebly. Islantar looked surprised, then smiled.

"For a short while. Even in my family, there is a childhood. But no more escape from the burdens of position than Tarsus." He paused, and then added with stark honesty, "Not killing him is the hardest thing I have ever done."

Medair felt a tremor run through her, and bit down on her lip, nodding, and so glad of him in that moment, sharing her loss.

He was holding himself very straight, eyes wide, and held out his hand. "I give you my name, Keris. I would ask that I might use yours."

"Of course," Medair said, automatically gripping the slim, pale fingers.

"Thank you, Medair." That young-old face briefly relaxed, then firmed, Kierash once more. "I have a more difficult request."