Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

“Taxes? Do you charge them of Rhapsody as well? What kind of an account are you keeping for her expenses, and how do you expect to be paid?”

Achmed stopped and turned, leveling a sour look at Ashe. “I would pretend you have the ability to understand, but why bother? You think you’re a dragon, Ashe, but you are really just a giant leech. You’re one to talk of payback. She has given you everything—what has she gotten in return? What have any of us seen as a return on our investment?

“Sooner or later you’ll see her at the Cymrian Council, something she again will be responsible for calling, despite the fact that it was your bloody family’s responsibility. When the arse-rags meet, you will undoubtedly be made Lord Cymrian, a role for which, I might add, you’re perfect. Being worse than your grandfather would take some doing, and I don’t think you have it in you. You aren’t a wastrel, just a waste. You have the power to be the largest rock in history—all you have to do is fall into the pond—but you can’t raise yourself to make the slightest ripple. Whatever your titles may be, don’t flatter yourself to presume that you are her equal. She will outlive you, Ashe. We will all outlive you, like a blighted crop or a bad neighbor. Go away. We’ve already had to purify this island once.” He turned and walked back to the boat.

Awareness dawned, and Ashe saw past the barbed insults to what the Firbolg king was really saying. “It was your way of being near her, coming here.”

Achmed kept walking, but slowed his pace. “To be near her, all I’d have had to do was go with her to Tyrian. Stop assuming that everyone has the same motives you do.”

“You miss her, and you came down here to be with her, in a way, didn’t you?”

“What you think has no bearing on anything, Ashe. Sooner or later you will figure that out.” Achmed tossed his boots into the boat as he approached it.

“You love her too, don’t you?” Ashe’s voice was mild, resonant with understanding.

Achmed stopped, but did not turn around. He was silent for several moments. When he spoke his voice was dry but contained none of his usual sarcasm.

“No, Ashe; you love her too. And do you want to hear something amusing? Killing the Rakshas? She still thinks I did it for you.” He climbed aboard the boat, fit the oars in the oarlocks, and rowed away out of sight.

By the time Ashe got to Tyrian, Rhapsody had already come and gone.

Oelendra was busy repairing a shield when the door to her cottage opened. Surprise, then delight, then dismay crossed her face when Rhapsody came in, hanging her cloak and weapons at the door. Oelendra stood up to embrace her queen, relief filling her soul and allowing her to breathe freely for the first time in weeks.

“Thank the stars,” she murmured, burying her face in the shining hair and pulling Rhapsody even tighter. “You’re all right. Thank the stars.”

“I have, twice daily, as usual,” Rhapsody answered, not pulling away. “The F’dor is dead.”

“I know,” Oelendra said, drawing her over to the hearth and lowering her into the willow rocking chair she liked. “The news has spread quickly; Rial came by yesterday with word from Roland, through Bethany. No one seemed to have any word of you, however.”

Rhapsody nodded, accepting the mug Oelendra held out to her. “Good. We tried to be as anonymous as possible. What was said?”

“That Lanacan Orlando was in the midst of some rites in Ryles Cedelian the basilica of Bethe Corbair, when the bell tower was struck by lightning. Poor soul, he was incinerated instantly, along with the sanctuary of the basilica.”

A wry smile came to rest on the queen’s face. “An amazingly lucky thing that the bell tower itself was undamaged, wouldn’t you say?”

Oelendra laughed. “I would. Now, what really happened?” Rhapsody related the details of the fight as Oelendra listened raptly, nodding from time to time, or wincing when the tale warranted it. When she had finished, Oelendra put down her own mug and crossed her arms over her knees.

“Though I must admit I am thrilled to see you, why did you come back here instead of going to Elysian?”

Rhapsody shuddered inwardly at the thought. “Why would I go there? It’s haunted with old memories.”

“Well,” Oelendra said awkwardly, “one of those old memories is waiting for you there in desperate fear.” When Rhapsody looked puzzled, Oelendra sighed. “Gwydion.”

“Ashe is in Elysian? How do you know?”

“I saw him not long ago; the very night you went against the demon, in fact.”

“What is he doing in Elysian?”

“By now I would say he is probably panicking,” Oelendra answered. “He is waiting to see you, to assure himself that you survived the fight.”

“I doubt he is panicking any longer, then,” Rhapsody said, taking a sip of dot mwl . “I asked Achmed to look in on Elysian when he got back, to make sure the house and gardens were all right and such. He’ll let Ashe know I survived.”

“I think he would like to hear it from you,” said Oelendra. “You should talk to him, Rhapsody.”

Rhapsody choked on her drink, then coughed. “No, thank you, Oelendra, that is the last thing I need right now. I told Ashe I would see him at the Cymrian Council. That, by the way, is why I’m here.”

“The Cymrian Council?”

“Yes. It’s time. I’m here in Tyrian to make preparations for being away for quite a while. If I understand the old manuscripts we found in Gwylliam’s, they say the Summoner of the Council must stay within those lands from the time the Council horn is blown until the entire assemblage shows up, or the Cymrians can lose the compelling need that forces them to come.”

“Yes, that is how it works.”

“The gathering stage could take several months, so I need to have things in order here. I’d like to meet with you and Rial later today, if that’s convenient.”

“As you wish. So you’re going to summon the Cymrians?”

“Well, I’m going to try,” said Rhapsody, putting down her empty mug. She shook her head when Oelendra nodded toward the pot. “No, thank you. It was just what I needed to calm my nerves.” She saw that Oelendra was examining her face; she rose quickly and turned away, walking to the window and looking out into the light of early spring.

-^

It was too late. Oelendra had seen all she needed to. She decided to tread lightly. “You should go to Elysian first, dearest. Go see Gwydion. Let him reassure himself at least.”

An ugly laugh escaped the queen. “No. He’ll have to be satisfied with getting word firsthand from Achmed, Oelendra. He is not a part of my life anymore, and frankly, I have a few more weighty things on my mind right now. I think it’s abominable that he would leave his new wife alone to wait in Elysian, anyway.”

Oelendra coughed. “I think he would agree with that statement wholeheartedly,” she said. “But you should see him, darling. He is waiting to give you your memories back.”

Rhapsody looked at her in mild surprise. “He told you that?”

“Aye. Don’t be angry with him, Rhapsody; he was very upset when I saw him.”

Rhapsody looked back out the window. “I don’t want those memories back, Oelendra. He told me what some of them were the last time I saw him, and I don’t think I can survive any more deception and lies. Did you know that Llauron is not dead?”

“Aye, Gwydion told me. I can’t say I was surprised.”

“Well, believe me, I certainly was. Do you have any idea what it feels like to know that I, the woman who defended the Patriarch, called starfire down onto the Invoker, the head of the religion the people of Tyrian and I are more closely connected with, burning him alive? That the two men I have gone out of my way for more than anyone since I came to this land have used me in unspeakable ways to advance their own causes?” Rhapsody turned finally to face her mentor, and Oelendra’s heart went cold at the expression in the queen’s eyes. They were glowing with green fire, flickering with angry tears. “You have no idea what this little demon hunt has cost me, Oelendra.”