Anne Bishop - Twilight's Dawn

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Return to the world of the Black Jewels with
bestselling author Anne Bishop.  Anne Bishop's "darkly fascinating"* (SF Site) Black Jewel novels have enthralled readers and critics alike with their mixture of fantasy, intrigue, and romance. Now in
, Bishop returns to the Blood realm with four all-new captivating novellas.

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Right now he didn’t trust Falonar at all, but that wouldn’t be a wise thing to say to his father—or his brother, for that matter. “Like what?”

“A challenge?”

Lucivar huffed out a laugh. “He’s arrogant, not stupid. He couldn’t survive me on a killing field.”

“But he is an aristo Warlord Prince who served in a less-than-honorable court. Was he free to leave, or would he have been considered a rogue when he left Prythian’s court and slipped in with the other Eyriens to try his luck at the service fair?”

“He said he couldn’t stomach what he was ordered to do,” Lucivar said. “I assumed he was rogue, but I didn’t care.”

“A man who lived by traditional Eyrien honor would have cared,” Saetan said. “Or at least cared about why a man broke an oath of loyalty.”

Snarling at the truth of that, Lucivar resumed pacing.

“So Falonar appeals to your sense of honor and tries to get you to give up your claim to Ebon Rih for ‘the good of the other Eyriens.’ What do you think would happen if you did step down?”

“Falonar would step in and become the next Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih and rule the valley in traditional Eyrien fashion.” And blood would be shed up and down the valley. The Rihlanders here, Blood and landen, wouldn’t tolerate the presence of another race who expected them to be accommodating, especially when accommodating meant becoming little better than slaves.

“If you step down, there will be no Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih,” Saetan said. “If you leave Ebon Rih, no one at the Keep will deny Falonar’s claim to being the leader of the Eyriens living in the valley, but the Rihlander villages here will have no duty to him. There will be no tithes to support him or his followers, because he will have no right to that income. He may be considered an equal to the Queens who rule the Blood villages, but not their superior. He would not be permitted to glut this land with Eyriens who can’t support themselves, and he certainly wouldn’t be permitted to bring in more warriors, because the number of warriors already here is sufficient to help the Rihlanders defend this land and its people.”

“And if he did try to bring in more?”

Saetan gave him a long stare before saying softly, “Don’t underestimate what guards the Keep, Lucivar.”

He heard the warning. Oh, yes, he heard the warning.

“I will give Falonar two points,” Saetan said. “First, you aren’t thinking like an Eyrien when it comes to the Eyriens in Ebon Rih. Who would you want with you on a battleground, Prince Yaslana? Who would you want supporting those men? Whose skills are useful? Who should be dismissed because they’re only extra weight? No one has reminded you of those completed contracts because they would have had to earn their living instead of expecting you to provide them with everything they want simply because you agreed to give them a chance to live in the territory you rule. They aren’t your children. Since you have sense enough not to spoil your own son, don’t spoil them. Give them a choice to stay or go, because the ones who can’t give you loyalty are no use to you in a fight—or in a healthy community.”

“Could I release Falonar from his contract?” Lucivar asked.

“If he wants to return to Terreille, you could forgive the rest of his contract. If he wants to stay in Kaeleer but no longer can serve you honorably, his contract could be transferred to a Queen of sufficient rank—meaning one who wears a Red Jewel or darker—who is willing to have an Eyrien Warlord Prince in her court.”

“I won’t let him serve Karla,” Lucivar said. She wasn’t the only Queen who wore Jewels darker than Sapphire, but after what Falonar did to Rainier, he wasn’t going to let the man near the Queen of Glacia and her weakened legs. “What’s the second thing?”

“People didn’t stop dying two years ago. Those who made the transition to demon-dead didn’t stop coming to Hell, didn’t stop wanting a last chance to take care of unfinished business.”

“So?”

“Come with me.”

He followed Saetan to the private part of the Keep’s huge library. On the blackwood table was a wooden box with a dozen audio crystals nestled in heavy silk.

Saetan put one of the crystals in the brass stand and used Craft to engage the sounds held in the crystal.

Andulvar’s voice. Lucivar’s chest ached. Hell’s fire, he missed his uncle. Saetan’s love and discipline and code of honor had shaped the core of who he was, but Andulvar, by being Andulvar, had shaped his sense of what it meant to be Eyrien.

How could he have forgotten that?

Then he focused on the words and gasped. “Stories?”

“Some stories,” Saetan replied. “Some legends as he was taught them. Some accounts of battles he was in. Prothvar has some stories and accounts of battles on a couple of those crystals too. And then there are these.” Returning that audio crystal to its place in the box, he called in another crystal and put it in the stand.

Lucivar didn’t recognize the voice, but he knew what he was hearing. “How? Where?”

“A historian storyteller from Askavi Terreille. He made the transition to demon-dead a couple of weeks ago. When he came to the Dark Realm, his main regret was that he had no apprentice while he walked among the living, had no one to learn the stories, and he worried that no one would remember what Askavi had been like before the purging, that the most recent history would be lost. So I showed him what Andulvar and I had done over the course of several winters.”

“He’s doing the same thing now?” Lucivar asked. “Recording the stories of Eyrien history so they won’t be forgotten?”

“Yes. If someone was interested in becoming the historian storyteller in your community, meetings could be arranged and held at the Keep.”

Maybe the storyteller could have an apprentice after all before he returned to the Darkness.

Saetan called in a thick sheaf of papers, carefully bound. He handed it to Lucivar. “Eyriens don’t have a lot of use for books, but I had all of Andulvar’s stories transcribed. I made two copies. One copy and the audio crystals will remain here in the Keep’s library, available to scholars and our family. The copy you’re holding is a gift from your uncle, and you may do with it as you please.”

“Thank you.” His throat was so tight it was hard to swallow. “I’ve let some things slide for the past couple of years. There were reasons for it, but now that needs to change.”

“Yes, it does. And there will be some who won’t like that change.”

Lucivar put a shield around the bound pages to keep them protected, then vanished them. “I’d better go. I promised Jaenelle I would tuck in Surreal and Rainier tonight, since they’ll both be resuming their training tomorrow.”

“You’re going to put a weapon in Surreal’s hands?” Saetan looked mildly alarmed. “Are you going to shield your balls?”

He laughed. “Damn right, I am.”

He headed for the library’s door. Saetan stayed at the table.

“Lucivar?”

He looked back.

“The next time someone tries to manipulate your heart by saying you don’t know Eyrien tradition, you remind that person that you follow Eyrien traditions that are far older than anything he could possibly know. Because, my darling, that is true. Andulvar was proud of you, as a man and as an Eyrien warrior. Does anyone else’s opinion really matter?”

Glancing up from the solitary card game he’d been playing, Rainier saw one of the younger Eyrien Warlords standing in The Tavern’s doorway, scanning the room.

Endar. Had a wife and two children—and lived with them, which, he’d gathered, was atypical in Eyrien society.

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